Hello readers! This is my first fic in the Shameless US fandom so I do hope to hear your feedback, enjoy!
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and themes belong to their rightful owners.
Here we go!
"The End Days"
Chapter One: "Ghost"
Ian didn't realize how easy it can be to become invisible, a shell of one's self.
-;- -;-
The ground is a little wet but Ian couldn't care less; he has been laying there motionless for several minutes- hurting. He stares at the cloud deck passing over, wincing each time he blinks, grunting in sickness when the iron taste of blood goes down his throat when he swallows. He can tell the swelling in his left eye is getting worse. He doesn't even want to think about how his lip possibly looks right now.
He cannot bear to shut his eyes for longer than a beat because everything plays back to him and it feels more painful each time.
"So that's it? We're over?"
"You wanna fag bash?"
"You love me, and you're gay. Just admit it, ju-just this once!"
"You feel like a man now?"
Stop.
Ian can feel the dew from the ground seeping through his clothes so he finally decides to get up, his body stiff, groaning in protest when he finally sits upright. He turns his head and looks at the expanse of nothing, but, it was once Mickey's retreating form after he gave that last kick to his face.
"Feel better now."
-;-
Ian trudges up the stairs to the Gallagher abode but decides against going through the front door after he hears some commotion about gift baskets. He quietly goes through the side door, sneaks a bag of frozen peas and carrots out the fridge and successfully gets up the stairs without tripping over something in the chaotic kitchen.
No one heard or saw him and Ian wasn't sure how to feel about that.
He lies down on his bed, planting his face firmly on the frozen vegetables. It's hard to get comfortable with the cold bag but he sort of manages, drawing his knees up into the fetal position, broken.
Ian thinks about Mickey, naturally of course. Maybe its masochism, but he can't stop seeing his face on that day, that one day that set them back so much, and maybe ended them.
"Oh my god," Ian wheezes out, it guts him to know that earlier may be the last time they'll be alone together.
"So is it true? You're getting married?"
"Marr-" Ian chokes on the lump forming in the back in his throat. He stops fighting it. His nose is dripping and his face is wet in seconds' time. His body wracks with each hiccup. The dull ache in his abdomen can't compare to the heartbreak. He feels like his soul is slipping away, nothing will be left but an empty shell.
Mickey, his Mickey is going to become a father and is getting married to a woman. Ian wants to hate him, fuck him, right? Though he can't, somehow he knows Mickey is doing this because he feels he has to, or maybe his being forced by his bastard father Terry. It's also pretty difficult to hate someone you're in love with. Why can't it be different? Why can't this neighborhood be different? Why can't they be able to love each other and just be? They can watch action movies or lay a blanket down and look for shooting stars, which was probably what Mickey really wanted.
"God," Ian groaned, his eyes ran dry but his face is still throbbing from the exertion. He decides that the bag of vegetables is no good now that they are room temperature. He rolls off the bed, balance uneven as his head pounds; Ian chucks them in the garbage and peers out the bedroom door. No one is upstairs still and the noise downstairs has toned down to normal murmur. He takes this time to shower off the day.
"Jesus! Shit!" Ian looks at the mess his face is now. Left eye, swollen and bruised; the other eye is rimmed red from his tears; his bottom lip is definitely split and his teeth are tinged pink from the blood.
-;-
The water feels nice, it might be scorching on a random day but right now, it's nice.
Mickey perched on the ground underneath the bleachers and lights his post-coital cigarette, "Man that was good, missed ya." Ian, elated and surprised smiles and looks down to his boy, "You did?"
"Yeah, man."
Ian's lip twitched upwards. Mickey said so because he had to top in juvie all the time, it killed Ian's spirit a little back then but he knows now Mickey actually missed him. Ian's smile stretched but disappeared quickly once his split lip stung.
"Why, why, why?" he whispers and steps completely under the hot spray and lets it cascade down over his head.
Mickey. Ian's mind tortures him with montages of Mickey's face, his lips and the way he bites them in thought…or during sex. Ian internally chastises himself for letting his mind wander here, especially now that his cock is rising. He doesn't want to think of how soft Mickey's ass actually is, how he can feel heaven in such a tight space when he's buried in him, his grunts, his coos, how Mickey can tighten and loosen his grip when he handles Ian's cock once he gets close to the edge. Ian tries his hardest not to think about the odd dichotomy of the silky soft and firmness of Mickey's cock when he takes him in his mouth and the taste of his-
"Ungh, fuck it." Ian grabs a hold of his jutted cock and begins to slowly pump himself.
"What you going down for then?"
"You got any fuck left in you?"
"…you put them in my ass and you pull them out real slow."
Ian's breath is labored as he vigorously jerks himself. He throws his head back; ignoring the pain and scrunching his eyes shut and thinks of the noise of their skin meeting, the moans Mickey can't control, and the smell of his skin when they are spent.
"Christ! Yes, yes, ungh!" Ian's strokes and strokes until he his body seizes and the pleasure surges through him, the rest simply mixing with the water and going down the drain. He braces himself with his hand on the side tiles and turns off the water.
Ian doesn't want this to be the way he copes but it all he has left.
-;-
Ian sits on his bed dressed in gym shorts and a white tee lost in his thoughts once more. He can't dwell too long once Carl and Lip carrying Liam walks in for bed. Carl, dead on his feet mumbles a "night" before crashing on his pillow. Lip lays a sleeping Liam down in his bed and turns for his bunk before stopping and looking at Ian's face.
"Whoa, whoa!" Lip lightly exclaims, he gestures to his own face a circular motion, "What happened?"
Ian stomach drops, he wants to confide in Lip, tell him everything, but he can't, not right now. "I got a little carried away at ROTC workouts today." Good enough lie. Lip's face relaxes, he buys it.
"Be careful, man. Don't kill yourself before you get in the Army." Lip smirks at his own quip and hops up into his bed, not even ten minutes later he is snoring.
Ian releases a breath he didn't even realize he was holding and gets into bed properly.
He relaxes and closes his eyes, welcoming Mickey's face.
-;- -;-