Ian woke with a start when he heard the bang from the kitchen. As he went downstairs, he made sure to grab the baseball bat hanging near the bottom of the stairs. He shuffled quietly into the kitchen, bat slightly raised and jumped when Lip came out from behind the refrigerator door, a bag of frozen peas held to his swollen left eye.

"Mickey's back!"

"Hey Ginger!"

Ian had found Mickey, as he'd suspected, under the El, with a gun and target. Mickey's greeting, however, had taken him by surprise.

"I …"

"It suits you, Firecrotch! Not sure he's really your type, though." Mickey still hadn't actually looked at him.

Mickey shot at the target. Three bulls eyes.

"Mickey, I can explain…"

"Explain what? Explain that you're fuckin' some old guy, who looks old enough to be your grandpa? Or explain why your brother knows about me?" Mickey scowled as he turned to face the target again, his furrowed brow becoming more wrinkled.

"I'm sorry!"

"For what? Like I said, we're not boyfriend and girlfriend, we're not married! You don't mean shit to me!"

"Then why did you beat up Lip?"

"'Cos he was shoutin' his mouth off 'bout me!" At this Mickey turned to face Ian, gun still in hand. "Sayin' that I should stay away from you 'cos I'd hurt you!?" The 'hurt you' was said with air quotes and a sarcastic tone. This hurt Ian, more than he thought it would. Ian stopped and breathed in deep breaths, watching Mickey reloading his gun.

"You did." Was all that Ian managed after a long silence.

At that, Mickey lowered the gun and turned to look Ian in the eye. Ian wasn't sure exactly what was going on in Mickey Milkovich's head, he never really did. But at that moment, Mickey's eyes began to well, and his hands began to shake. Ian had never seen Mickey cry, and wasn't sure he ever wanted to.

"So is that why you did it?"

"What?"

"Told Lip about us. Why you fucked some other guy? To get back at me? To hurt me back?"

"You said it was over!"

"Right! Course I did!"

"What do you want from me Mickey?!" Ian's voice was growing louder. Mickey was inching towards him, still not letting go of the gun.

"Nothing!" Mickey's voice had risen to the same level as Ian's, months of anger and pain now beginning to spill out from both boys.

"Then who the hell are you to tell me who I can, and can't fuck?! Like you said Mick, you're not my girlfriend!" As Ian said this, Mickey's face became darker, and he moved in closer, his grip tightening around the gun in his right hand.

"Fuck you Ian! I do you a favour by not killing Frank, and this is how you thank me? By fucking the first guy you find?! I can't believe I was such an idiot! Do you know how much I risked by sneaking around with you?!"

"Well it's over! So you don't have to worry about that now. I'm doing you a favour! You can go back to whatever it is that you do!" Ian began to walk away, but Mickey chased after him.

"So that's it? You're such a pussy Gallagher!"

That did it. Ian turned and swung. He clapped Mickey square in the jaw. They began to fight, wrestling under the rumbling El. Blood began to flow and all of the pent up anger Ian had towards Mickey started to subside and he remembered exactly what it was in the boy that first made him so attractive.

But Mickey was different, Ian was different. They couldn't go back to how it was.

Despite all of the training Ian did, and all the weights he lifted, he still couldn't best Mickey, who had a technique of fighting all his own. Ian was pinned after a few minutes of punching and wrestling. Mickey didn't have a crow bar in his hand, and his gun had fallen at some point during the fight, but his arm was raised as it had been the first time. Mickey's fist was tense and ready to clock Ian. The one hand he had pressed against Ian tightened around his right bicep. Ian braced himself for the hit, but it didn't come.

Mickey lowered his arm to his side, loosened his grip on Ian's bicep. Ian was expecting Mickey to finally do the one thing Ian wanted, kiss him. But he didn't and instead he stood. He turned slowly, retrieved his gun, and slumped off.

By the time Ian had finally caught up with Mickey, he was climbing the last step to his front porch.

"Mickey!"

The troubled teen stopped and turned to face the red haired youth on the other side of the gate. Ian ran up to him, and waited for Mickey to open the door, but he just stood there staring blankly at the ground. Ian did something that would get most people shot or stabbed by Mickey Milkovich, but he didn't care. He grabbed Mickey's gun hand, and lifted his face with the other. The boys held eye contact for a few minutes before Mickey ripped his hand away and dashed inside, with Ian following.

"Fuck off Ian, I mean it!"

"Not until you tell me why you beat up Lip! It's me you're mad at, not him!"

"He fucked Mandy! Ok? He fucked my sister, and then he started talking about you, and…"

"And what? You felt guilty about trying to kill my dad that you hit out?"

"No! Not that…"

"What?!"

"I saw you! Ok? With him! The old guy, the one that called you Ginger! I got out early, and didn't tell anyone so I could… So I could go see you, and try and explain what I did! And instead of you moping around, and missing me, you're off fucking the first guy that comes along! I knew you liked 'em older, didn't think you liked 'em that old! And then I saw Lip! Smug asshole! He comes along telling me how I fucked up and don't deserve you, and that you've moved on! So I hit him, alright?"

"I… Mickey…"

"Now fuck off!" Mickey had made his way to the front door, and was holding it open for Ian.

"No!" Ian moved towards Mickey, placed his hand over the one holding the door open and forced it closed.