Chapter 2:
"Fuck, Gallagher?" Mickey slurred and tried to pull himself up out of the gutter, before stumbling and falling back down. "Jesus, Mickey!" Ian shouted, running over to assist the drunken boy.
"I'm fine!" Mickey insisted as Ian pulled him up and tried to help him walk.
"Fine? You're a fucking mess" he said, throwing Mickey's arm around his shoulder to guide him down the street, "let's get you home".
Mickey pulled away swiftly, "can't go home, the wife will lose her shit". Ian stomach turned instantly at the mere mention of Svetlana.
"I'll take you back to my place then," Ian paused, "you can sleep it off on the couch" he insisted practically dragging Mickey down the street.
"Your place?" Mickey grunted, "you don't live here, you fucking left". Mickey quickly pulled away from Ian and began to vomit profusely. Ian had seen Mickey drunk more times than he could count, he had seen him violent and angry and distant, but he had never seen him quite like this. If Ian didn't love the boy so much, he would have found him pathetic.
"Are you back?" Mickey murmured as Ian guided him into the Gallagher living room. He positioned Mickey on the couch and removed his vomit-stained singlet, revealing the pale, defined body that Ian knew so well. "Yeah Mick, I'm back" he replied, running his fingers through Mickey's short, black hair and waiting for him to fall asleep. He wanted to stay there all night, to lie down next to him and feel him breathe, but he knew that no good could possibly come of that. After Mickey had been silent for a while, Ian decided to head off to bed. He reached over Mickey's head to turn out the lamp on the end table, but caught himself gazing at a man that he once saw as strong and tough, now so vulnerable and broken. "I love you" Ian whispered as he turned out the light and headed towards the staircase. "I love you too," Mickey grunted before finally passing out.
Mickey awoke the next morning the way he usually did; with a killer hangover and the pain of knowing he'd dreamt about Ian Gallagher once again. The same dream every night for three months; Ian returning and Mickey telling him that he loved him. It wasn't until Mickey opened his eyes and the head spins ceased that he realised he was on the Gallagher's couch. Mickey racked his brain of the previous night's events; had he dreamt Gallagher's return once again or was Ian actually back from the army? How did he end up here? And where was his shirt? He could hear the younger Gallagher children getting ready for school. "Mickey Milkovich is asleep on our couch" Debbie informed Fiona who had just come downstairs.
"Jesus, since when did this house become a refuge for the Milkovich siblings., Ian emerged from upstairs. Mickey froze, he had seen Ian last night, but seeing him in the sober light of day, nothing he was feeling was being numbed by alcohol. The memories of the night before were coming back to Mickey in flashes, but seeing Ian triggered one memory he wasn't ready for; "I love you too". His heart sank into the pit of his stomach as he recalled his final words from the night before. "Fuck", he muttered under his breath. Maybe Gallagher didn't hear? Maybe he dreamt the last part? Maybe he could just slip out the door before Ian had a chance to say anything?
All the Gallagher's except Ian were now running out the door, heading off to school and work, and as each of his siblings left, Ian could feel the tension growing stronger. "How'd you sleep?" Ian asked as he sat down on the armchair next to the couch and handed him a cup of coffee. Mickey didn't reply; he just sipped his drink and starred straight ahead. He wasn't going to be fucked making small talk. "Why'd you come back?" Mickey snapped. It was painfully clear how much Mickey had been hurt by Ian's departure, though he would never admit it. "Got discharged… figured out that I used Lip's ID and sent me back. Can't enlist again". Mickey knew how much that must have been killing Ian, he didn't want the fucktard to get his head blown off by some towelhead, but he knew how badly Ian had wanted to be a soldier. "You were a dumbass to enlist in the first place!" Mickey taunted. Ian felt his blood boil, "yeah? Well you were a dumbass to marry some whore you hardly know!"Mickey pulled a crumpled cigarette packet out of his back pocket and lit a smoke, anything to avoid looking at Ian. "Is she really pregnant?" Ian asked quietly. Mickey nodded and took another drag of his smoke. Once again, Ian's stomach turned, making him feel a hundred times worse than any hangover Mickey could have. "Is it yours?"
Mickey stood up and pulled on his dirty singlet from the night before. "How the fuck should I know? It doesn't even matter… She's my family now, and so is the kid." Mickey shouted as he ashed out his cigarette, he wasn't going to discuss Svetlana and the baby with Ian, Ian left, just because he was sent home didn't make it any of his fucking business. "I gotta get home," he snapped and rushed out the door.
Ian sat in silence, Mickey Milkovich had told him he loved him, he was barely conscious, but he still said it. He had also called Svetlana his family, and Ian knew there was nothing more important to Mickey than family loyalty. Ian couldn't help but feel like everything had escalated during the months he was gone, the man he left behind was somehow more self-destructive and broken. Once again, Ian was left feeling just as conflicted as he had three months ago.