Mickey got back to the cell first again that night, how did Gallagher always manage to hold out longer than him? Still, he's pretty bloody proud with how he dealt with the conversation between them earlier. He'd told Ian the truth, but he'd managed to do it without sounding like a pussy. He knew he'd accomplished in making it look like he didn't really care that much and he wanted to tap himself on the fucking back for how well he had played their game. He'd willingly given Ian the choice, which meant he didn't have to think anymore. For the second time in the last few days he didn't want the power, he wanted Ian to make the call and decide for them both. Judging by the other night Mickey thought he knew which way this would swing. Still though, there remained this shred of doubt that he couldn't quite shake as he stared at the ceiling trying to read the graffiti someone even more bored than him had left whilst they'd been doing their own stretch.
Ian had had the ball in his court before, and he had walked away from Mickey before too. Mickey felt his gut twist at the thought of Ian telling him they were done again. The last time he had Mickey had ended up here, because Mickey only knew how to relate pain to two things. One of them was pleasure, and the other was violence, Ian didn't leave him with a choice. Where could Mickey go now? He was already banged up.
He tried to reassure himself that it was Ian, not him who had made the most accurate comment of them all. It always ended up with them two. Would Ian really wanna fuck that pattern up now that he was facing eighteen months in this hellhole? Surely, now more than ever he would want Mickey close, but then Mickey knew not to underestimate him, Ian could be an independent prick when he wanted, he'd even fucked off to the army to prove that point.
Mickey had never been close with anyone. He had a dysfunctional relationship with his sister, but they'd never really been able to fix that. He and Mandy had both learnt from day one that being born into the Milkovich family meant a couple of things; one, you needed to know how to fight, and two, life was a free for all. They took a survival of the fittest approach towards everything they did, because no one else ever did fuck all to help them survive. Mickey knew someone up there must hate him because when they were dishing out families he'd been properly screwed. Getting too close to people brought weakness but Gallagher was his one and only exception to that most fundamental of rules.
When Mickey tried to work out why it always ended up back with them, he could only assume that despite their clear differences, they understood each other. They'd been through too much together to pretend like they couldn't instinctively and subconsciously work each other out. Mickey knew that Ian was the only person he'd ever let in and he didn't regret that, because he could never really regret what they had. But he did in a way wish that he had been stronger, so that Ian didn't make him feel so fucking weak.
He smashed his fist against the cold grey wall, hard enough to break skin, but not any bones. He hissed in frustration, he'd got himself chucked in here to get Ian out of his head, not for him to be practically living in it. He could feel he blood trickle down his wrist and didn't do a fucking thing to stop it, he just wanted to know where he stood. Mickey understood now, how Ian had felt back when Mickey was still so far in the closet he might as well have been fucking Mr Tumnus against a lamppost. He understood how Ian must have felt so screwed up trying to work out what the hell they were. So, because karma's a bitch now it was Mickey's turn and he didn't know how Gallagher had done this for as long as he had.
'You're bleeding.' Someone stated nonchalantly and Mickey knew that voice in a heartbeat. He'd been so engrained in his own head that he hadn't noticed Ian leant up against the bars of their cell looking as hot as ever. Mickey hated him for that.
'Thanks Sherlock.' Mickey replied as sarcastically as he could and Ian knew better than to ask why Mickey's knuckles were dripping.
'Listen Mick –' and Mickey didn't want him to carry on, he didn't even look at him because he didn't think he was going to like what he was about to hear. His heart was racing but his body was braced, ready to take the hit. He wasn't going to be afraid.
Fortunately for him, that was as far as the redhead even managed to get. An alarm blasted hard through the whole of D Block, drowning out everything as it screeched and echoed loudly around them. The deafening warning racked their brains before they had time to adjust that was when the chaos erupted.
Mickey was the first to dash out of the cell to see what was happening, purely because Gallagher hadn't clocked on that WWIII had just broken out on the ground floor. Mickey stared over the balcony in horror at the anarchy that was ascending from below. A full out riot had begun, fully grown adult rational men were wrestling each other to the ground, knocking teeth out, busting lips, blackening eyes and breaking bones. That was when Mickey reminded himself that these weren't rational men, they were convicts.
Those that weren't fighting were watching, shouting, encouraging others to kill or threatening to do it themselves. Cowards, he thought to himself. Toilet paper was flying through the air and the floors above joined in with the pandemonium and if Mickey was deep enough, the scene before him could have looked like an artistic protest. Those in maximum security were beating the bars of their cells like caged apes, desperate to get involved in the action. Guards were calling for back up, they were vastly outnumbered by the primal thugs that thrived on this bedlam.
This had only happened once before whilst Mickey had been incarcerated and it hadn't been on this scale. Everyone was fighting to the death and no one wanted to give up, they used every weapon that they had hidden, stashed away for opportunities just like this where they could kill their enemies or provide back up for allies. Mickey had fought last time, caught a couple of nasty punches but nothing too bad. The blood pumped around his body as he observed the onslaught in front of him, wanting to jump straight into the frenzy like he had last time. When he turned around though his eyes locked on Gallagher, his already pale skin had turned a deathly shade of white and his eyes were wide with shock. He knew that Ian could fight, he would give as good as he got, but the redhead didn't fight like this, and he definitely didn't fight to kill just for the kicks. Mickey knew then that Ian deserved better than him, because he did, his heart wasn't good like Ian's was.
A more overwhelming instinct kicked in then, the fight creeping higher, escalating between more and more guys. He needed Gallagher safe, but where could they go? They couldn't run, he had a fucking reputation to protect.
'Too pussy to join in with the fun huh Milky?'
Mickey whipped round to find Double C chiding him, he had the guard (Mickey was ninety nine percent it was Bradley) in a headlock. To give him credit the guy was fighting back hard but Double C was considerably stronger than he looked.
'Get the fuck off him man.' Mickey snarled, of all the people in this place that deserved to die, Bradley wasn't one of them, and Mickey knew that was exactly why Double C had picked him.
'I can exchange him for the pretty redhead, if you'd prefer.' Double C leered back raking his eyes over Ian like he was an animal at the slaughter. He was holding the guard back with impressive ease.
At that, for the first time since he'd been in here, genuine fear raced through Mickey's body. Not Ian, not fucking Gallagher. To give him credit too, Mickey saw Ian pull himself together, ready to defend himself, ready to kill if he really had to.
'I've already warned you once. Keep your fucking hands off him.' Mickey gritted out. His fists were ready and his eyes were dark, pupils blown as the anger pulsed through him at Double C's heavy threat. He watched as a disturbing smile broke across the blonde villain's face and he glanced down at the guard he was still restraining as if it was taking no energy at all.
'Calm down princess, so protective over your pet, don't worry I'm saving you both for something special.' He promised and then all Mickey saw was a flash of metal as Double C slashed Bradley's throat in one sharp move. The noise around them raged on as the blood spurted out of the guard's neck, gushing red. Ian watched on in shock as the body slowly drained of blood and the life seeped out of Bradley. Double C cackled like a maniac and then ran off gleefully to join the disarray that was still continuing below them.
'Get back in the cell.' Mickey barked at Ian and for once he just did as he was told, still too stunned to challenge in return. Mickey got involved and fought who he had to maintain his reputation, but he did his best to make sure he didn't take any more lives. There had been enough bloodshed.
Eventually about half an hour later when there were a ton more casualties and a few more dead they were restrained and the guards regained control of the block. Mickey was thrown roughly back into his cell, he'd taken a gash to the head and blood was streaming down his face, he also suspected a dislocated shoulder and a couple of broken ribs. Gallagher didn't even notice his presence, he just stared blankly back outside the bars. When Mickey followed his gazed he realised that Ian was watching Bradley's cold dead eyes as if he expected them to blink.