Chapter 28
(Mickey POV)
Two weeks passed with the boys only contacting each other twice: the first time was when Ian texted Mickey to tell him that he had landed, and the second was an angry message Mickey had left to Ian's voicemail after he'd gotten drunk one Sunday night. He'd said something along the lines of "fuck you, douche-bag," and Ian hadn't replied.
Mickey was miserable, and seeing Mandy all happy again made him feel even worse. He wasn't jealous of his sister—not exactly—he just hated his situation and the fact that he was too far away to really fix it. Mandy told him to just suck it up and call Ian, so on Christmas Eve, that was exactly what Mickey did.
It was late... He was in his room while everyone else sat in the kitchen watching TV. Sara had brought over some really good weed and Mickey was high off his ass in no time. He'd already been drinking with Chris and Mandy since morning, so he blamed breaking his stubborn streak and calling Ian on the fact that he was fucked up. Gallagher didn't pick up until the fourth ring.
"Hello?"
"Hey..."
"Hi." When Mickey didn't respond, Ian asked, "Mickey?"
"Yeah, I'm here... Merry Christmas."
Ian let out a little snort. "Merry Christmas, Mick."
Mickey didn't know what else to say. Of course there were a shitload of things he wanted to say, but it was Christmas and he didn't want to fight with Gallagher. He just missed him...
"Is that it?" Ian asked.
"What the fuck else do you want me to say?" Mickey snarled back at him.
"Nothing. Nevermind."
"Yeah, 'nothing' is what I figured."
Mickey hung up. It was over, just like that. It had been a month since Thanksgiving, and that was all they said to each other. He sat on his bed and looked out the window at the snow falling down, while he took a drag from his cigarette.
He heard a sound from behind him and he turned to look. Mandy was standing there, leaning against the door frame. "What the fuck do you want?" he barked at her.
Mickey didn't know how long his sister had been standing there. She must have overheard his conversation. "Really?" she asked. "I mean, that's all you're gonna say to him?"
She crossed her arms and spat out, "You're a fucking pussy," before turning to rejoin the others in the kitchen.
Mickey was glad she left—that way she wouldn't see him starting to cry again.
He was miserable all winter, and it was clear that Mandy wasn't going to be any help. Whatever version of the story Gallagher had told her was enough to put her on his "side"—she wouldn't give Mickey any information on what was going on in Ian's life, even after he'd worked up the courage to outright ask her.
Mickey didn't know what to do. He'd never been in a relationship before, and he'd sure as hell never been in a fight like this. The only thing he was sure of was that he didn't want to lose Gallagher. He would do anything to make the redhead see that they were worth the effort.
One Wednesday afternoon in the middle of January, Mickey decided he couldn't fucking take it anymore.
[4:35pm Mickey: hey, think u could swing by the apartment tonight?]
[4:36pm Travis: sure man, what's up?]
[4:36pm Mickey: gotta talk to u bout something. need ur help.]
[4:38pm Travis: i finish work 5:30. i can be there by 6]
[4:39pm Mickey: k, that's great. thanks.]
By the time Travis came over, Mickey had already started his way through a six-pack. There were only two beers left. He offered one to Travis as his friend sat down on the couch next to him.
"You didn't sleep today?" Mickey shook his head. He didn't tell the guy he'd been too nervous to even think about sleeping. Travis started to pet Dexter, who was on the couch between them, and they mindlessly watched the Jerry Springer rerun that was on the TV.
It felt like it used to back when Travis was staying with them. They were just hanging out... It was weird to think that a year ago, Travis had been the one in Mickey's situation, suffering from the worst break-up of his life. Mickey took comfort in the fact that Travis wasn't pressuring him.
"Ian and I were dating," he blurted out when the episode of Springer ended.
There was no way to beat around the bush. He didn't want to start off by saying he was gay, because he really didn't think he was gay—at least not completely. He looked at Travis for any sign of shock or hatred or disgust, but the guy just continued petting the puppy.
"Were?" Travis asked, looking at Mickey now. "As in, past-tense?"
Mickey nodded.
"What happened?"
Mickey sighed. "I don't know, man. It just got out of control. Some fucked up shit happened to his family on Thanksgiving, and I think that's how it all got fucked up." Mickey took a deep breath before he began his explanation of everything that had gone down. "He felt like he should have been home, with them. He said he couldn't afford to come and visit again during the holidays, and the worst part is that I don't think he would have come even if he could have gotten a ticket. He said it wasn't fair that he was the one always doing the traveling and missing holidays with his family. He wanted me to go to Chicago to see him, but he knew I couldn't." Mickey's voice was coarse now with the effort of trying to hold in his emotions. "The worst part..." He cleared his throat and started again: "The worst part was that he said that having a long-distance relationship wasn't worth the effort."
Mickey didn't think he and Travis had ever had a conversation this long—at least, not on Mickey's part.
"He said that?" Travis asked.
"Well, not in those exact words. He said he didn't know if he could do it... that it wasn't fair that we had to be apart all the time, and that we couldn't have a relationship based on texts and only seeing each other a handful of times. He said that I couldn't even admit to people that we're together."
Travis laughed then, startling Mickey. "What the fuck man?"
"How long had this thing you guys had been going on?"
Mickey had to think before answering. "I dunno... end of August, I guess? Since his birthday."
Travis was still laughing. "Well, he's not wrong! I mean, it's been five months... and you're only telling me now?"
Micky frowned. "So you're taking his side too?"
Travis calmed down but he was still smiling. "No, Mickey. I'm not taking his side. I'm just saying that he was right about that last part—about you being in the closet about your relationship."
"I'm not gay," Mickey said, voice low.
"I didn't say you were. I knew about you and Sara hooking up last year. And even if you were gay, do you think I would care? I mean, me, of all people?!" Travis looked like he genuinely meant it, and Mickey relaxed a tiny degree. "I don't think people need to define themselves sexually. Like I told you, I've always been into guys, but not everyone is the same... but that's not what matters right now. This fight you and Ian had... what are you gonna do about it?"
Mickey snorted. "If I had a fucking clue how to fix it, I'd have done it by now. I called him to wish him a Merry Christmas but that wasn't good enough for him. He wanted me to spill my guts out or something over the phone. I didn't want to fight... That wasn't why I'd called him... I just missed hearing his voice. I don't know what to fucking do! I don't even know if we've been broken up since Thanksgiving or not..."
"So he wanted to talk?"
"I guess... he was pressing me to say something else, but I just couldn't."
"I think you should call him again and be honest. Tell him how you feel and offer to bring him to NY for Spring Break. It's not a holiday, so it shouldn't be a problem. That way, you guys can talk in person. You need to convince him that your relationship is worth the effort."
"And if he doesn't want to come?" Mickey bit his bottom lip.
"Well, then suck it up and talk to him over the phone. At least then you'll know you tried everything."
Mickey thanked Travis for his advice and walked him out around a quarter to eight. He had just enough time to walk to the bar before starting his shift. He probably shouldn't have gone to work, but it was a slow night, so despite being completely stressed out and a little buzzed (he and Travis had shared another six-pack), he was able to get through it.
He closed up at 2am and sent Chris the usual message letting him know everything was okay, but not before drinking about four fingers of Jack. He told himself he needed the courage.
[2:02am Mickey: hey Firecrotch, u awake?]
It was only 1am in Chicago, and despite it being a school night, he hoped Ian would still be up.
[2:04am Firecrotch: yes.]
Well, it may not have been the most encouraging answer, but at least he wouldn't be waking the kid up. A groggy Ian was not a happy Ian. Mickey took a deep breath and pressed the number on his speed-dial. Ian picked up after the first ring.
"Hello?"
"Hi..."
"Hi Mick."
Fuck, this was already not going the way Mickey wanted it to go. He looked at the list he'd made. Yes, he'd written a list in his fucking palm about all the things he wanted to say to Ian. Thankfully it hadn't washed off while he was working. He bit his lip.
Okay, here goes nothing, he thought.
"Ian... I really want to talk to you. Need to talk to you. But first of all, I want you to know how much I miss you. These last two months have been hell without you. Shit, it feels so fucking weird to do this over the phone. I wish you were here. I wish I could hold you in my arms..."
He waited for some sort of reaction from Ian. "Are you still there?" he asked, worried that the redhead might have already hung up on him.
He heard a slow exhale and then Ian's voice say, "Yeah... I miss you too."
Relief flooded through Mickey. He felt a sliver of confidence pushing him to continue. At least he wouldn't be talking to an empty room, so to speak.
"Look, the thing you said about me not admitting that we're together... well, I told Travis about us."
"You did?"
"Yeah. He was cool with it."
Ian laughed. "Mickey, Travis is gay. Why wouldn't he be cool with it?"
Mickey shrugged and then realized that Ian couldn't see him, so he made a noncommittal grunt instead.
"I want to buy you a plane ticket to visit us in NY again. Can you come for Spring Break? It's not a holiday or anything... you're family wouldn't feel like you were skipping out on them... but, will you come?"
"I don't know, Mickey. Nothing has changed... What's the point?"
It looked like they would be having the conversation over the phone afterall.
"You're right: it's not fair that we have to be apart so much, and that we only get to see one another once in a while. It's not fair that you are the one who always has to come here to see me, and I'm sorry that I work such shitty hours. You know that if it was possible, I'd be back in Chicago with you. I'd do anything to be close to you. But listen—we'll only have to suffer a few more months. Once you start at West Point, you'll be so close that I'll be able to see you every weekend. We can do it for a little bit longer, don't you think?"
Mickey was sitting on the stairs to the apartment now, but he didn't want to go in and wake Mandy. He pulled his knees up and rested his chin on them, waiting for Ian's response.
"I just don't think it's worth the effort."
"Of course it is," Mickey said confidently.
"Why?" Ian demanded.
"Because I'd take being with you for a few days out of the year over not being with you at all. Because you matter to me! Please, Ian... Please come back. I can't take us being apart anymore..."
He'd prayed that he'd be able to control his feelings but this was just too much for Mickey to handle. He really didn't think he'd be able to survive if Ian rejected him.
"Please don't give up on us," he added in an almost whisper.
He heard Ian sniffle on the other end of the line. "Okay, Mickey. I'll come... But on one condition."
"Anything..." Mickey said, not even taking a second to think about it.
"I don't want to feel like you're ashamed of being with me. You have to tell your friends about us."
"Done." Mickey was giddy now. "I'm gonna call you again tomorrow when I finish work. Find out the start and end dates of your vacation and I'll give you Mrs. Lombardi's credit card info so you can buy the tickets online. I'll give her cash for it afterwards."
Ian yawned. "Alright."
"Great. Goodnight, Firecrotch."
Ian laughed. "'Night Mick."
