Chapter Two: Movie Night
"Mickey, stop!" Mandy bellowed, grabbing hold of her brother's arm as he threw a chair across the room. The chair crashed against the wall, putting a hole through the wall and breaking as it hit the floor. It had barely missed Tony's head. The eldest Milkovich son dropped his arms from where he had been shielding himself, startled. He scowled and dashed forward. Mandy, who was still struggling with Mickey, put herself between the two, a hand on each chest. Mickey's breathing was heavy and erratic, his breath hot on her neck as he stared Tony down over Mandy's shoulder. Tony stared back, face set in angry stone and teeth bared. Mandy stood there in the thick tension, hands shaking a little because she worried for her safety, if she was being honest. Two Milkovich men going at it was never a good mix to throw oneself into. Even she knew that. She looked between her brothers, eyes daring. "Quit," she warned.
Mickey's breathing slowed. Mandy stared at him, watching his face relax a little. He swallowed a large gulp of air and licked the corner of his mouth before closing it. Tony slapped Mandy hand off of him, and when Mandy turned away from Mickey to snap at her least favorite sibling, Mickey took advantage of the situation and spat over Mandy's hair and right into Tony's left eye.
"Where the fuck where you?" Mickey yelled, pointing at Tony, temper escalating rapidly. Again.
Mandy dived out of the way as Tony wiped his face and tried to headbutt Mickey. She fell into the coffee table, still screaming at her brothers. A neighbor would probably call the cops if they kept this up. Mickey fell back into the couch, Tony against him, punching Mickey in the side. And Mandy stood up and grabbed a glass halfway full of milk from the coffee table. Everything was happening so fast and in such a chaotic mess. She threw it at the two. And it was as if they didn't even notice. The glass landed against the arm of the sofa, missing them, but spilling all over both of their heads. Covered in luke-warm milk, the brothers fought still. Mickey grabbed hold of Tony's face, squeezing and clawing, his own face twisted into a rage Mandy had only caught sight of once before. Had hope to never see again. It was terrifying and reminded her too much of their father's fury.
Clawing at Tony's face, Mickey pushed his brother's head into the arm of the sofa, where most of the milk had spilled. Tony's neck was turned at an extremely odd angle, and Mandy feared that Mickey might break Tony's neck if he kept up. Fortunately, Tony had enough wits about him to knee Mickey in the groin. Huffing out a groan, Mickey let go of Tony. Tony threw Mickey onto the floor while the younger man was writhing in pain. The throw put Mickey into the coffee table. All of the clutter went flying. Mandy fell on her own ass and scooted away quickly. Tony bumbled forward, nose bleeding and a large gash across his forehead. He picked Mickey up by his collar and slung the smaller man in a circle, letting Mickey go abruptly. Mickey crashed into the television this time.
"I said to fucking stop!" Mandy spat, struggling to her feet and finally charging forward, throwing herself onto Tony's back. Her hair was wild and in her face, stuffed into her mouth as she was thrashed about. Tony bucked her off, and Mandy fell hard into the leg of the coffee table. Yelling out in pain and grabbing her back, Mandy rolled around, teeth bared, face a perfect example of immense pain. The wood had gashed her just under her ribcage. She could tell because it stung like a bitch, and her favorite white tank top was staining.
Mickey gained composer, and shoved Tony, face hardened but somehow calmer. Tony looked back at Mandy, apologizing. Mandy was glad the two had stopped fighting, but really wished it hadn't taken her getting hurt to stop them. Mickey flipped Tony off. "Just get out," he growled through his teeth, full of venom.
Tony wrinkled his nose at Mickey, told him to go fuck himself, apologized to Mandy again, and then stomped off to his old room. Old because Tony was finally moving out. Had actually been living in the house for the last few months and had been collecting the last of his things earlier. That had been the reason for his visit today.
As Tony stormed back out, carrying two trash bags full of who knew what, Mickey had dropped to his knees beside of Mandy, helping her sit up. He looked up at Tony briefly, scowling, then shook his head and put pressure on Mandy's side. Tony slammed the door and the wall shook. Finally the house was quiet. Mandy pushed herself with her feet as Mickey pulled her toward the couch. She leaned back on the foot of the couch and held her hand over Mickey's on her side, looking at Mickey and wincing. Yet scowling at the same time. A look she secretly hated she was wonderful at pulling off.
Mickey peeling his hand back, and Mandy hissed in pain and hurried to put her own hand back against the wound. Frowning, Mickey tugged Mandy's hand back. She cussed him, but Mickey, as usual, didn't give two fucks. With one hand he held Mandy's hand back and with the other he lifted her shirt high enough to see the wound.
"Ouch!" Mandy screeched, punching Mickey in the shoulder. "That fucking hurts, you asshole!" she growled.
Mickey pursed his lips and stared at Mandy with wide, sarcastic eyes, saying, "You want to bleed out, then?"
Reluctantly, Mandy sighed and let Mickey look at her gash.
"It's not that bad," Mickey commented, letting Mandy's shirt down. He waved behind him and then started pushing up to his feet. "Go wash up," he said, straightening out his clothes, then added, "Just put some Bandaids on it, you god damned baby." And though his words were harsh, Mandy didn't miss the half grin her brother gave her before he started picking up the rubble.
When she came back from the bathroom, shutting Mickey's door behind her, Mandy stared at Mickey's back. He was rearranging the coffee table; propping it up with the two books that were mysteriously in the house. No one here read, and Mandy wasn't sure where the books had come from. Probably something Ian or Lip had left behind. They were props now. She leaned against the hallway frame and crossed her arms. She had changed into a different shirt. It was Mickey's; the cleanest one Mandy had found in the mess Mickey called a bedroom. She didn't want to wear her own shirts because most of them were too tight and would rub her side horribly. Mickey finished with the coffee table and stood up straight. From his profile, Mandy could tell her brother was still in turmoil. "Mick?" she called out quietly, getting his attention.
Mickey turned a little, glancing back at Mandy, face drawn. He held her stare. "How long?" Mickey asked.
Many knitted her brow. She knew what he was getting at and wished he would just leave it alone already.
"How fucking long, Mandy?" Mickey bit out, a little heated this time.
Mandy shook her head, swallowing hard and looking away from her brother's intense stare. She clenched her fists against her, trying not to hurt her wound but trying to ground herself. "I don't know," she whispered, suddenly ashamed.
"What?" Mickey asked, mouth dropping open and brows going up. "You don't know?" he laughed bitterly.
Turning back at him, frowning deeply, Mandy raised her lip and said, "Since mom left. There! Are you fucking happy now, Mickey? He's been fucking me since mom left!" Her voice threatened to break and Mandy slammed a fist against the wall beside her, trying to hold herself together.
"No, I'm not fucking happy!" Mickey roared, throwing his arms up and approaching her a little. He stopped a foot away, staring across at Mandy, pursing his lips into a wide frown, clearly fighting to hold his tongue. Mandy watched Mickey fume. Finally he brought a hand up and rubbed his face. "I'm going to kill him," he said calmly through his fingers.
Mandy rolled her eyes. "No you're not," she said. But something inside of her quivered because she could see it in Mickey's eyes that he was close to the edge. She wanted desperately to pull him back. So Mandy said what she hoped would help a little. She told him that their father didn't remember coming into her room sometimes. That he was always drunk or high when it happened. That Terry felt terrible about what had happened and had been drinking himself stupid since her abortion. That he was already killing himself, slowly. For Mickey to just forget he had even found out. That all Mandy wanted was for everything to go back to being fucking normal.
He just closed his eyes and breathed. Mandy watched Mickey take in what she had said. Watched him tilt his head down, bury his hands into the pockets of his zipped up hoodie-vest, and sigh. When he spoke, his voice was calm but held sadness. "And that makes it okay somehow?" Mickey eventually said, opening his eyes and staring at the floor as if it had offended him. "No," he went on, looking up at Mandy, "It's not okay. Nothing is okay."
"Mickey—''
"Stop," Mickey said, putting a hand out as he cut Mandy off. He rubbed his temples. "I need some fucking air," he said, shaking his head again and walking towards the door. He looked like the wind had been taken out of him.
Mandy didn't follow because she knew when her brother needed space. But she watched Mickey leave and her stomach sank. Mandy wasn't sure what her brother was going through internally, but she was pretty sure it must be serious, and must have been going on a lot longer than just today. Mickey seemed far too weighed down with a burden. He hadn't been right since she's picked him up from juvie last week. Something was off with Mickey, and Mandy would have been worried, if she wasn't in so much pain from her side. She pushed off of the frame and hobbled over to the sofa, sitting down. Unfortunately, she had forgotten about the spilled milk, and got her ass wet. Cursing under her breath, Mandy scooted out of the wet spot and curled her legs up under her as she leaned back, laying mostly flat and using the armrest as a pillow. She reached into the pocket of her jean skirt and pulled out her cellphone. It was a crappy flip-phone and had only about one hundred minutes left on it. Mandy looking through her contacts until she found Lip's phone number. She stared at the phone for a while. Debating.
Lip was probably out fucking Karen Jackson again. Mandy seethed, grinding her teeth together. She forcefully tossed her phone to the foot of the sofa and growled to herself. Staring up at the ceiling, Mandy thought maybe she would just phone Ian instead. The ginger was apparently the only decent man she had in her life. Too bad he was gay.
Wincing as she sat up, Mandy fetched the phone back and called Ian. She knew he wasn't at work today. It was Saturday, his day off. And it was pretty late, so Mandy figured Ian was likely at home winding down. When he answered, Mandy could tell he had been napping.
"You wanna come over and watch a movie or something?" Mandy asked, twirling a piece of her hair, frowning out into space and really hoping Ian would just say yes. Because she really didn't want to be alone right now. And who knew when Mickey would be back. He had been leaving for hours every night since getting out of juvie. Sometimes he didn't get back in until past two in the morning.
"I don't know," Ian said, groggy and clearly hesitant, "I kind of promised Fiona I would clean up some," he trailed.
Mandy punched the cushion beneath her, holding her temper. She sighed out heavily, fast and annoyed. "You've been avoiding me, Ian," she said bluntly. "Quit making excuses. Get your ass over here now," she went on, "or fuck you!"
All was quiet on Ian end. Mandy heard him moving around. Eventually he sighed and told her he would be over in a few minutes. And for him to have lived so close, it took Ian quite a while to knock on her door.
The movie they ended up watching was so boring that Mandy wanted to claw her eyes out. "Great choice," she teased Ian, tossing a piece of popcorn at his face, her legs draped over his legs.
Ian smiled at her goofy, pinching her calf. She laughed and kicked at him. The clock said it was after one in the morning, so Mandy figured it was close to two actually, since the batteries in that clock were dying. Ian yawned loudly, then leaned forward and swiped the can of soda that was either his or hers, Mandy wasn't sure, from the coffee table. He swigged the rest of it, the crushed the can and sat it back on the coffee table. Knitting his brow and smirking, confused as he looked down at something, Ian said, "Why is my book holding up your table?"
Mandy looked down, following Ian's gaze. She shrugged and shifted back into place, throwing another piece of popcorn at Ian's ear this time. "Broke it," she said simply. It was the truth, only sans the details. Mandy hoped Ian wouldn't actually press the issue because Mandy had just gotten the incident off of her mind. But Mandy wasn't lucky, so of course he did. Casually and unintentionally upsetting Mandy. He looked at Mandy strangely when she scowled at him and nearly bit his head off.
"What the hell is your problem?" Ian asked, hurt and confused.
Mandy stopped scowling at him, her face slowly falling into regret. She puffed out her cheeks and blew out for a long time, frustrated. Tilting her head back on the armrest, Mandy apologized for being a bitch. "Just a lot of stuff going on since Mickey came home," she explained. Mandy didn't miss the odd look that crossed Ian's face. Or how quickly he tried covering it up. She frowned, wondering if Ian's avoiding her for the past week had anything to do with Mickey. She was putting two and two together, and honestly it looked to her like Ian's avoiding her must have everything to do with Mickey. And she wasn't sure why. Mandy thought instead of just asking Ian, since he probably wouldn't be honest anyway, she would skirt the issue until she had enough information to piece together the puzzle herself. So she decided to keep talking about Mickey.
Ian stopped her mid-sentence after a few minutes of Mandy talking about Mickey's weird moods. "Say that again," Ian said, pulling a disbelieving face.
Mandy frowned, cocking a brow. "He's been leaving every night. I think he's on drugs," she said. "What do you think?" she pressed. "Does that sound like someone who's on drugs?" She sat up, pulling her legs under her and sitting the popcorn bowl on the floor. "Cause I know a lot of people get hooked on heroin and stuff when they're in jail," Mandy sighed out, staring intently at Ian. "It happened to my dad and all."
Scratching his head and looking away, appearing to be surprised, Ian cleared his throat. "Maybe," he said, shrugging. "But most people don't get hooked on drugs from just a year in juvie," he added. Then he furrowed his brow, and Mandy had to squint to catch the worry on his face, but she saw it. "Maybe he just has a lot on his mind," Ian trailed.
The hell was that about? She gnawed her bottom lip, curious now more so than before.
"Nah," Mandy said, yawning. Her eyes closed briefly, but she opened one to observe her best friend. "Mickey doesn't really do a lot of thinking," she said, feeling sleepy now.
Ian looked at her for a second, eyes searching, then gave a half-hearted grin and snorted. He reached over and patted Mandy's shoulder once. After that he stretched and began standing. Mandy's eyes followed him like magnets. "I should go," Ian said, smiling honestly now. "I'm about to pass out."
Mandy hummed in agreement and saw him to the door. When she shut the door and turned off the television, Mandy stood in the middle of her cramped living room with all of the lights now out. She stared at herself in the darkened screen until her vision became focused to see enough. Finally she made her way into her bedroom and curled up under her covers. She shut her eyes tightly and told herself that everything would be okay. She laid there waiting for Mickey to come home. His snores helped her sleep at night.