A/N So this is my first fic ever. It's also posted on AO3.

I'm so sorry this is my first fic EVER. Anything wrong is my fault.

In this Ian didn't leave, but didn't acknowledge Mickey any more, became obsessed with everything else. Ended up finishing school and enlisted after being denied from WestPoint.

The words rang in his ears at an annoyingly high pitch

"Killed in action, s'all they said." Mandy sobbed from her spot on the couch. When all he did was stare blankly she stood up and stood to where she was taller than him in her heels "It's all YOUR fault! You fucking pussy!" She spat the words at him as if they were acid.

His steps sounded like thunder, the streets weren't empty or quite. He was just tuning out everything, even the name being screamed at him.

"Mickey!" a hand landed on his shoulder causing him to flip around, the look in his eyes could only be described as dead, dead to the world and anybody on it. It was only Mandy chasing behind him.

"You're right you know." He laughed but it wasn't the one Ian had always fished for, it was a sickly cackle that would even make Terry want to dig hi own grave. "This is all my fault." Mandy just told him which cemetery and went the opposite direction. It had been three years since he had heard from the fire-haired boy. This was not how he wanted it to go. Now he has to leave his house, his personal hell-hole and meet up with some old 'friends' and an ex-lover.

Svetlana hadn't actually been pregnant and once he found out she just left, of course Terry wasn't too happy about this and Mickey didn't go home for over a week.

He locked himself in his room after Mandy's outburst "I didn't mean it," He could hear her whispering on the other side of the door "His funeral is in a bit…" her feet clicking as she walked away. He wasn't going.

He was at the cemetery now, the grass crunched under his feet. Gallagher was going to be in the special area, the area reserved for people who decided to get there asses to get shot off and succeeded. That was exactly what Ian was, somebody who succeeded at getting his ass shot off in action. If he wanted to get shot all he had to do was piss off Terry even further, s'all he had to do.

Mickey rubbed the threatening wetness from his eyes, this wasn't a time to pussy out. All the gravestones were plain and boring, all of them had tons of titles labeled under them while others had few. He neared Gallagher's, his fucking Gallagher's.

Ian Gallagher

He dropped to his knees and started to go over the letters of his last name with his thumb "You know, Gallagher, you were the pussy"

G

"Always scared to talk, always wanting me to shout"

a

"I tried to shove you away,"

l

"When that didn't work, I pulled you closer"

l

He was digging in his pocket now "You still wanted what you knew,"

a

He pulled out a baggie with several multi-colored pills in it out " you knew I couldn't give"

g

He stared at the baggie "But you know what,"

h

"I would've died for you, getting shot twice wasn't enough."

e

"As long as this never happened."

r

"But it'll all be fine." There were wet streaks on his cheeks now. He opened the baggie and poured all of them in his hand, his 'friends' said this would work. "This is all my fault in the end though, if I had never came back. Never hunted you down after the second trip, I could have saved you,"

"I'm so sorry..." he said swallowing each pill dry and laying directly on top of where his Firecrotch laid. Sleeping forever was something he could definitely get used to. He wouldn't be ready for whatever tomorrow brings. He closed his eyes and crossed his arms.

Whatever tomorrow brings I'll be there with open arms and open eyes