Jack Milkovich leaned back on his best friend's bed, and made himself comfortable.
"You know you've gotta go home at some point," Liam said, sitting on the bed.
"Fuck that," Jack pulled a cigarette out of the pack that was sitting on the windowsill, "You kickin' me out?"
Liam raised his hands in defense, "Hey, I'm cool with you staying here, but Fi-"
"Fucking Fi-"
"You're practically living here, man. You either need to go home or start pulling your own weight." Liam pulled the pack out of Jack's hand. "And get your own damn cigarettes."
Jack sat there scowling for a moment before taking a long drag of his smoke, exhaling, and saying quietly, "Fucking hate it there. My dad just works and drinks. He doesn't give a shit about me."
Liam looked sympathetic for a moment, before sighing and saying, "Yeah well, tough shit. I haven't seen my dad in a month and I was two the last time I saw my mom."
Jacks eyebrows shot up as he shook his head. He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, "Nuh-uh, we are not gonna play this game! You have a sister who practically is your mom, a brother who works for a college, and another brother who lives in the fucking north side. We both know who's gonna win this."
"Whatever," Liam muttered.
Jack put out his cigarette in the ashtray and stood up. "It's shit hanging out with you, man. Your sister hates Milkoviches, and my dad's a racist."
Liam shrugged, "At least he doesn't know you're fucking a black guy."
He rolled his eyes as he pulled his pants up over his boxers. "He'd fucking kill me."
"What exactly has he said about gay people before?" Liam was sure Jack was always exaggerating when he spoke about his dad that way.
Jack thought about it, pulling his shirt over his head. "Well... nothing. But you should hear my grandpa. He said the only thing worse than listening to foreigners trying to speak English is fags trying to have rights. Sometimes I think he actually knows, you know? Like he says that shit right to my dad all the time, like he's mad at him for having a gay son."
"How do you even know your dad would be like that too then?"
"Everyone knows that shit's hereditary or whatever."
"Homophobia?" Liam asked, laughing, "Dumbass, if that's hereditary then why are you gay?"
"Same reason you're black!" Jack argued with complete seriousness.
He laughed some more, "Man, you have no idea what you're talking about.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Jack muttered as he moved around, gathering clothes of his that had accumulated over the past few times he'd stayed over. He shoved them into an old drawstring bag that he knew Liam wouldn't miss. When he had his stuff all packed, he just stood by the door awkwardly. "So, you're family still has no clue we're fucking, right?"
Liam rolled his eyes, "Yeah, but, I still don't know why you care so much-I literally have a brother who's married to a man-why would they care about us?"
Jack scoffed, "He ain't married to a Milkovich."
"I don't think they'd care as much as you think," Liam said, a little too gently for Jack's liking.
He just sighed and looked away, "Whatever, man. See ya." He turned and walked out of the door and down the hall a bit.
Not two seconds later, Jack came back into the room, walked right up to Liam, and kissed him on the lips.
Liam reached up and grabbed the back of Jack's head, pulling him closer.
Eventually Jack pulled away.
Liam was grinning at him. "What was that for?" Jack usually only kissed him if it was going to lead to sex.
Jack blushed, "Just-thanks for letting me stay here even though your sister hates me."
"Anytime."
Jack left after that. He was suppressing a smile the whole way home.
Jack had been friends with Liam for as long as he could remember. Then one night, about a year ago, they had both been drunk and one thing had led to another.
Jack still just considered them to be friends, but there was definitely something there that hadn't been a year ago.
He was convinced his dad was racist, since he hated Jack spending time with Liam. The first time Jack had invited Liam over, when he was ten and Liam was twelve, and his dad had gotten home, he glared at Liam until he left, and then told Jack not to hang out with "that fucking kid." Jack couldn't think of any other reason why his dad would hate Liam so much.
Jack lived in a small, crappy apartment with just his dad. His room was practically a closet. He remembers that they moved there when he was four. His mom had lived with them for about a year, before she divorced his dad and got married to someone else, someone who was rich, and moved way out to Miami. She still sent him money every once in a while, and presents on Christmas and his birthday.
He always knew that his parents didn't love each other. When they had all been living in the apartment, his dad didn't even sleep in the bedroom, he'd always slept on the couch. They'd lived more like roommates than husband and wife. When he thought about it, he was confused as to why they had ever gotten married in the first place, but his dad never talked about it.
When he walked in the door, his dad was sitting on the chair, watching TV, with a beer in his hand, like always.
His dad looked at him with mild concern, "Hey, where've you been?"
"Told you," Jack said not looking at him, "was at a friend's house."
"Yeah well next time can you text me a little more than just 'staying another night' three nights in a row?"
Jack just grunted in response.
"You didn't even tell me whose house you were at."
He ignored him and went into the kitchen. He opened the pantry and hesitated at what he saw. There was every single one of Jack's favorite snack foods taking up the shelves. Several of them his dad didn't even like. Those had definitely not been there the last time he was home.
Jack sighed, the feeling of guilt creeping over him. He knew this was his dad's way of getting him to stay at the house for a while. He knew his dad probably missed him.
When Jack thought about it, his dad had no one besides him. He didn't any friends, he didn't have a wife, and he didn't have any other kids. He didn't even have a girlfriend.
Sometimes it was easy for Jack to not feel bad for his dad. He could be a real shithead. They'd had yelling matches, loud enough to wake the dead, over what channel to watch. His dad could act like a stubborn prick and complain about having to give him a ride to this or that. And he hadn't made it to a parent/teacher conference since Jack was in first grade.
But then sometimes they would get along. They'd both laugh cruelly at the guy who tripped out in public. His dad would let him do doughnuts in the car, in an abandoned parking lot when he was only twelve. When he'd turned sixteen his dad let him start taking hits from his joints. Not that he hadn't been smoking since he was thirteen but he knew his dad liked to pretend he didn't know that, so he never got in trouble or anything.
Jack grabbed the can of Ranch Pringles and went back into the living room. He sat down in the arm chair.
"I was at Liam's." He finally said.
His dad looked over at him, opening his mouth, looking annoyed, but Jack suddenly felt this weird rush of adrenalin. If his dad was about to go on a rant, he wanted to give his dad something to rant about. "And you know what else? I'm fucking him!" He stood up suddenly, fearing he might have to bolt.
His dad closed his mouth suddenly, and he stared at Jack. Finally, he just shook his head, looked back at the TV, and said, "You'd be better off staying away from those people, and you especially shouldn't be fucking them."
Jack looked confused. That was less than half the reaction he was expecting. "What-black guys?"
His dad raised his eyebrows, "No, dumbass, Gallaghers. Gallaghers and Milkoviches just don't mix well in the long run."
"Wait-that's why you never wanted me to hang out with Liam? Not because he's black?" Everything Jack believed about his dad was suddenly getting warped.
His dad looked up at him. "Why would I give a shit about him being black?"
"Well...'cause...Grandpa..."
He rolled his eyes. "I am nothing like your fucking Grandpa, okay?"
Jack sat back down. He definitely wasn't expecting that. "So," he said quietly after a moment, "you don't care that I'm..."
He glanced at Jack, before muting the TV and turning toward him. "I don't care that you're gay. Just don't have a fucking trying-to-be-rebellious, coming out moment with your grandpa. Things will end a lot differently."
Jack nodded. He was smarter than coming out to his grandpa. "So... what is your problem with the Gallaghers then?"
He shrugged, "Gallaghers and Milkoviches aren't supposed to be in the same room together. You know what Gallaghers do to Milkoviches? They rip your heart out, chew it up, and spit into the toilet. They make you start to believe you're good enough for them, then they pull the rug out from under you, and remind you that you're nothing but a worthless piece of shit to them. And you're better than that."
Jack was thoroughly confused. "Dad... what the fuck are you even talking about?"
His dad leaned back in the chair, and unmuted the TV, "I'm just saying. Don't fall in love with a Gallagher."
He laughed, wondering if his dad was high, "Oh come on-what Gallagher have you fallen in love with?"
His dad had a look on his face then, like he was trying to decide something. Finally he said, "You're Aunt Mandy fell in love with Liam's older brother, Lip. And he dumped her for school."
"But... Aunt Mandy's married now... I think she's over it. And anyway, she's still practically best friends with their other brother, Ian."
He physically flinched at that statement, and Jack wondered if his dad was so hung up on his Gallaghers vs. Milkoviches theory that he didn't even like to be reminded that his sister was friends with one of them.
"Either way," Jack continued, "Liam's not like that, okay? He wouldn't treat me like that."
"Yeah, that's what... that's what Mandy thought."
"And like I said already, I think Aunt Mandy is over it..."
His dad sighed, turned off the TV, and stood up. "Whatever," he muttered making his way to his bedroom, "keep fucking that kid-I don't give a shit." He turned back to Jack. "But if he ever fucks with you, you better tell me so I can break his fucking legs. And you should know that I still think you can do better."
When Mickey got into his bedroom, he lied down and started rubbing his eyes. He sighed and grabbed a cigarette from the pack on his bedside table.
He had actually had a feeling about his son. He knew that many of Jack's friends had girlfriends, and it never seemed to bother Jack that he didn't. Jack never mentioned girls or talked about girls. From Mickey's perspective, he had no interaction with any girls ever, and yet he had found a box of condoms in Jack's room. Not to mention the fact that when Jack was little, he always wanted Mickey to buy him Ken dolls.
What Mickey hadn't seen coming, was his son sleeping with Liam Gallagher. He wondered if it was some kind of cruel joke made by the universe, and he prayed that things would turn out better for his son than they did for him. He knew, since the second he was born, that Jack would be better than Mickey, he'd make sure of it. And now he hoped Jack would live up to that, and not fuck things up like Mickey had.