Mickey knew the exact moment that everything between he and Ian became something more than he'd ever intended it to be. He could tell you exactly when shit like Gallagher's feelings started to matter to him. He could tell you all of it, because even though he's tried, he couldn't ever quite manage to forget or stop caring.

And the thing was, he hated that Gallagher's feelings had started to matter to him, because it was because of shit like that that he found himself nervously smoking in his room before he went out to do something that Ian hadn't even asked him to do.

Because apparently Mickey did that now, actually thought about shit that was going to make Ian happy.

Gallagher would call it progress if he could hear Mickey's thoughts right then. He'd probably mutter something about how, "Well it has been about three years, Mick." Because Gallagher was a bullshit fucking fifteen when all of his shit started and Mickey still feels like maybe the universe is punking him here or something, because he doesn't deserve this.

Ian was eighteen now and ready to go off to WestPoint and Mickey may not like it, but that didn't mean he was about to do anything to try and stop him. That wasn't his right. The only other problem was that he could see it written as plain as day on Gallagher's face that he wanted Mickey to tell Mandy about them before he followed him out to New York. Because yes, he was gay enough to do shit like that apparently. Just uproot his entire life and move away from everything he knew like it was nothing.

But then Gallagher was pretty much his life anyway, as fucked as that sounded, so Mickey just thought, the hell's it really matter?

He had no problem moving out to New York, but confronting his sister about him being gay was fucking terrifying. And he knew how retarded that was, because he was afraid of her hating him or looking at him different, but she still loved Ian just the same as she would have done if he was straight. There was just always going to be that traitorous part of his brain that whispered to him that it was different, Mickey was her brother.

Still, they were leaving tomorrow afternoon, so Mickey knew he had to just suck it the fuck up and tell her. He had to grow a pair and not be such a fucking pussy.

He swallowed loudly and stubbed out his cigarette on the wall before deciding to just bite the bullet and go do it.

Mandy was in her room. He could hear her playing shitty music through the CD player Mickey had stolen a few years ago and given to her as a birthday present. When he walked in he had to pull a face at the sheer lack of clothing she was wearing, but she just flipped him off before he could say anything.

"The fuck you want assface?" she asked lighting up a smoke and taking a long drag from it.

Mickey leant against the doorframe to her room and folded his arms across his chest so that they wouldn't fidget with anything. He wasn't going to admit that he was nervous, no way.

"I'm leaving," he told her, amazed at how much more confident he sounded compared to how he actually felt.

Mandy's eyebrows flew up into her bangs, "Where the fuck to?"

He scratched at the back of his neck and grimaced a little, "New York."

He could tell from the way that her face scrunched up into a frown that Mandy hadn't connected the dots. But then Mandy had never been the most observant and Mickey had known all along that even had she walked in on him and Gallagher and seen them fucking, they still would have had to sit her town and tell her exactly what was going on. She wouldn't piece it together on her own, all the long trips Gallagher took to the bathroom, the visits to Juvie, the constant questions Ian would ask her sometimes about him and vice versa.

His sister wasn't an idiot, but sometimes she could be really dense.

"Why the fuck are you going to New York?" she asked, practically scoffing like the idea of it was insane.

He shrugged slowly, "I'm going with Ian."

"Ian's going to WestPoint," she said blankly, leaning forwards and placing her elbows on her raised knees and she looked so much like their mother in that moment that Mickey almost wanted to check for a needle in her arm.

Mickey let out a long breath and rubbed at his bottom lip. "No shit," he replied, "I figure I could get an apartment near campus or something."

She was still frowning, "Why the hell would you want to do that?"

Mickey groaned. "Jesus Christ, Mandy!" he ground out, staring up at the ceiling exasperatedly, because he didn't know how else to spoon feed this information to her, "I'm fucking gay, alright!"

She stared at him, eyes narrowing a little like she thought that maybe she could see a confirmation of it written on his skin somewhere. "No you're not," she said, like she honestly thought Mickey would make that shit up. With their dad, that would be like a dead sentence.

"Yes, I am," he replied, meeting her eyes, "And I'm going to New York with Gallagher."

She blinked and then carried on staring at him. "So you're fucking my best friend!" she asked and Mickey couldn't work out if she was mad, confused or just still didn't totally believe him, "How long for?"

"Going on three years," he shrugged, chewing at his bottom lip.

She threw the ashtray beside her at his head, screeching, "Three fucking years, Mickey!" at him with her eyes wide in that way that usually meant that shit was going to hit the fan. And yeah, he'd known she was going to get angry, but at least she wasn't crying.

"Fucking crazy bitch!" Mickey screamed at her as pottery and ash exploded around his head from where the ashtray had hit the wall. "The fuck is wrong with you!"

Mandy glared at him, but she seemed to deflate a little bit even if the look in her eyes was still burning. "Why the fuck did neither of you tell me?"

Mickey shifted awkwardly on his feet, shrugging his shoulders and rubbing a hand through his hair as he looked at her. "Because I didn't want you to fucking hate me," he growled at her, even though it came out more as a low mumble. He kept his eyes on hers as she moved towards him.

Her expression softened slightly at his words, but it still hurt like fuck when she punched him in the chest, the air rushing out of his lungs for a moment. "Like I could honestly give a fuck if you were gay, assface, Jesus!" she told him, rolling her eyes like that was the stupidest thing she'd ever heard before she wound her arms around his neck and hugged him tight enough that his eyes bugged out of his head a little.

And it reminded him of all the times it used to be them against the world, sitting in Mickey's bedroom with his hands over Mandy's ears as their parents screamed at each other.

He hugged her back automatically, pressing his face into the side of his sister's hair and breathing in the familiar scent of cheap shampoo. When they pulled apart, she grinned at him and Mickey had honestly never been gladder that he was leaving the next day, because he hated when his sister got that look in her eye.

"So hey, which one of you is the bottom?"

He didn't think it was at all wrong of him to just walk out of the room, because he so wasn't answering that. No way.