He didn't care. He doesn't care. This isn't his problem.
That's all Mickey could repeat to himself as he walked home from Ian's. He knew it was bullshit, of course he cared. Ian was the first person since Mandy to care about him. No one cares about him, but maybe if he thought it enough times he could convince himself of it.
Probably not.
Fuck that kid.
Lying on his bed with an icepack on his ribs wasn't unusual for Ian. In fact, it was pretty routine, but today was the first day Lip seemed to take interest in 8 years.
"Yours?" He mumbled around the cigarette he'd just lit.
"Nah, my fuckin' soulmate's an idiot."
Lip pushed off of the doorway he'd been leaning on and made his way over to sit on the desk at the end of Ian's bed. "Ah," he nodded and took a slow drag from his cigarette before continuing, "How often have you been hanging out with him?"
Ian wondered what that had to do with anything, but answered anyways, "Um, not too much. Why?"
Lip hopped off the desk and faced Ian, "Just the more you hang out with 'em the more it hurts. Trust me." Ian chuckled. "Mandy gives me bruises all the time. She really needs to control her temper."
At that, though, Ian outright laughed, "Yeah? Well, she sure doesn't appreciate your affinity for violence either. And I'd appreciate it if you stopped hurting my girlfriend."
Lip raised his eyebrows. "I'd appreciate it if she stopped hurting me, too."
"Truly a match made in heaven."
Lip snorted, "Literally."
"Holy shit!" Fiona yelled from downstairs. The crash of pan following close behind. Ian and Lip exchanged a quick glance before running to the kitchen, bruised ribs forgotten.
"Fiona!" They said in unison when they reached her.
"What the fuck, Jimmy!" She turned to reveal a nearly broken pinky.
Ian handed her his icepack.
"Asshole," she sighed as she placed it against her finger.
When she finally looked at them, Ian could barely contain his laughter. Soon, Fiona and Lip followed. The three of them stood in the kitchen bruised and laughing hysterically, probably looking insane. Once they quieted down, Fiona hugged her brothers, "Why did we get these people for soulmates?"
"We're Gallaghers," Lip said, "Is that even a question?" Fiona and Ian nodded, and she walked over to find paper towels. Suddenly, Lip looked toward the door and jogged up the stairs.
Fiona scoffed and opened her mouth to speak when she was cut off by the door being flung open.
"Ian!" Mandy shouted as she practically ran inside, tossing scarf and jacket in the general direction of the coat hooks. "Evan-"
"Mandy, I know you live here now, but that doesn't mean you can be as much of a tornado as the kids." Fiona said over her shoulder while she looked for Liam's snacks.
"Oh! Right." Mandy spun around and hung up her jacket. "Okay, did you hear what happened to Evan Chase and those idiots that beat you up?"
"Uh, no."
"Some kid totally whooped their asses. I think one of them's in the hospital." Her face shone with excitement at the morbid news.
"Holy shit. When?" Ian would be lying if he said he wasn't happy at all, but he certainly wasn't as delighted as Mandy.
"I don't know some time after school yesterday." She grabbed an apple just before Carl could get it.
"Hey!" He jumped trying to get the apple from the hand she'd stretched high above her head.
"Fight ya for it." She smirked and Carl smiled.
"Alright."
She raced into the living room and Carl was after her in a flash. Ian just shook his head and watched them from the kitchen. Lip descended the stairs once again and looked around. "Mandy here?"
"Living room." Ian answered. "She's fighting Carl for an apple."
"Fuck. Mandy!" He yelled poking at a bruise already blooming on his arm.
"Is that a different shirt?" Fiona smiled, raising an eyebrow.
Lip shot her a quick glare before racing to break up the fight that would inevitably end in sizable injuries for both parties, and Lip.
"I'd have Veronica look at that if I were you, Fi." Ian offered as he slid his arms into the sleeves of his coat. "I'll be back later."
He barely heard Fiona call out a "Where" before he closed the door and jogged up the street. He could feel the cold seeping through his jacket, the familiar burn of the cold air in his lungs. He rubbed his hands together as he walked careful to not put too much pressure on the bruises on his knuckles.
Mickey had definitely gotten in a fight and he was going to find out who with.
It was easy to tell when your soulmate was near after a while. You could sense them. There's a pull deep inside of you that draws you to them -that always wants you to be near them if they are near.
That's why Mickey suddenly woke up from where he'd been dozing on the couch, and stared at the front door, anxiety increasing with each passing second. He debated just opening the door and getting it over with, but before he had the chance to Ian was knocking. Mickey sat for a moment longer, trying to collect himself and breathe normally. He refused to be rattled by some kid.
But those plans were out the door the second it was opened. The breath flew from Mickey's lungs at the sight of Ian's face. It was like he'd gotten more beautiful overnight, if that was even possible. He felt the warm feeling of Ian's presence and that Ian was feeling towards him. And he soaked it in.
Then, he realised Ian was freezing and was most likely there to talk. "You, uh, you wanna come in?" Mickey asked, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.
"Yeah." Ian smiled as he walked past Mickey and into the house. "Terry home?"
"Uh, no." Mickey said, rubbing his lip. "Just me." Ian nodded and let out a short breath.
The next thing Mickey knew Ian's lips were on his. His eyes flew wide but soon fluttered shut as he relaxed into that perfect moment. There's really no way Mickey could explain the calm and safety that seemed to fall around them the moment their lips met, or the way the rest of the world just fell away, or how he felt like he'd been doing this his whole life, like he was made to kiss Ian. All he knows is that his skin burned where Ian's hands held him and his cheeks flushed. Then, he grasped at Ian's jacket and kissed back, and tried to describe every ounce of feeling he could without speaking at all.