Ian and Mandy didn't realize how big New York City was until they got jammed in the traffic.

Many more massive buildings, streets packed full of taxies and pedestrians, and the Empire State Building. And it seemed so much louder than Chicago ever was.

After about an hour of looking around the general areas, Ian began to figure out that it wouldn't be as easy finding Mickey as they'd thought. They didn't exactly have any photos to show of him, and it was obvious that no one was going to be willing to stop walking long enough to help.

Eventually, Mandy led Ian to a bench in Central Park and sat down, exhausted from looking. They'd left the car in some parking garage that Ian made sure to memorize the address of.

"Where the fuck are we supposed to look now?" Mandy groaned, fanning herself. He thought the heat in Chicago was bad, here it feels so blistering that he wondered if this was how Afghanistan would be.

"I don't know…Maybe find the police station and ask for help finding him?" Ian kept looking around, hoping to see Mickey out of nowhere. He could already feel his heart trying to escape his chest, as if searching on its own accord for some missing piece.

"Please tell me you aren't serious." She stared at Ian dubiously.

"All right, I see your point, but I'm just throwing ideas out here, Mandy. We've never been here before. We have no fucking idea where Mickey is. The best thing we can do is keep wandering around hoping we don't get lost trying to find him."

Ian stood up. It was no wonder why Mickey would choose New York City out of any place to go. It's big enough and busy enough to keep from being found. Even the homophobic prick Terry would have a hard ass job searching for his son here.

And as he was thinking it, suddenly there was Mickey.

Ian thought he was imagining it at first. That his mind was projecting what he wanted to see. It most certainly looked like Mickey Milkovich. Short black hair that spiked slightly, pale skin, definitely wearing a tank that he remembered the shorter boy had once.

"Holy fuck, Ian, is that Mickey?" Mandy's voice was loud next to him. He hadn't heard her move.

So it wasn't just him seeing it.

"I think it is…" He mumbled.

Mandy took off in the direction Mickey was standing, waiting for the group to walk. Ian caught up and grabbed her arm.

"Hold it, Mandy."

"What? He's right there! Let's grab his ass, throw him in the car and go." She growled.

"You really think that's going to work? How about following him and finding out where he's been staying. Then the can talk to him." What was it with Milkovichs that made them think the only answer to things was violence and impatience?

Mandy groaned and pulled her arm away from the red heard, crossing them over her chest, which only made her breasts pop out more from the thing she called a shirt.

"Fine. We follow him, get his address, then get him first thing in the morning." She grumbled out.

"Sounds like a much better plan than jumping him right now." Ian remarked.

"Fuck off."

Ian just rolled his eyes and joined the crowd, keeping Mandy by his side. They followed Mickey from a distance, watching as he snatched some cigarettes from a stand and a random magazine, even making a point to go into a store for beer and a Lunchable before leading them to an alley-like area full of apartments. They watched as he went to a door marked with the number 15 and went inside.

After a few minutes, they decided to find a nearby hotel to stay the night in.

"Okay, so we know where he is…" Mandy stated as they walked.

"We just have to be here before he leaves." Ian replied, nodding.

The only real question was, How?