"Hey."
Mickey opened his eyes at the sound of his sister's voice, but he didn't remove the blanket from over his head, not wanting her to see his bruised and battered face. He wasn't in the mood for her questions: ones he couldn't give her answers to because she couldn't know about any of it.
"The fuck you want?"
"The hell's up with you?" Mandy asked from the doorway. "You've been in bed for the past two days."
Mickey closed his eyes with a shaky exhale. "Don't you got school?"
"Yeah."
"Good, so run the fuck along and leave me alone."
"Fine, shithead." She hesitated before leaving to ask, "Are you good?"
"I'm fine," he snapped, hating the pity in her voice. "Can't a guy get some fuckin' sleep around here?"
"That's all you've been doin' is sleeping," she retorted. "Mickey, are you on something?"
"Get the fuck out," he snapped, not wanting to be mean but knowing it was the only way she'd take the hint and leave. "Shut the door on your way out."
"Suit yourself, asshole," she spat before softening her tone and saying, "I made eggs and left them on the stove if you get hungry."
Mickey didn't answer as he pulled the blanket tighter around himself, wishing he could completely shut out the rest of the world.
Ian pressed his forehead against the cold metal of his locker and groaned before banging his head a few times, causing a few of his classmates to throw odd looks his way. He glared right back at them, not in the mood for anyone's shit.
After hiding out in the house for two days, doing nothing but sleeping and eating junk food, he'd decided (with a little help from Fiona's bitching and nagging) that it was time to go back to school. He'd forced himself to get up and get dressed that morning; it was time to get some normalcy back in his life.
It didn't take long for Ian to regret his decision. He'd already gotten lectures from three of his teachers. After being absent for two weeks, his grades were severely lacking. He was behind in all of his classes, so he knew he had a big fucking hole to dig himself out of. For the first two months of the semester, his grades had been increasingly improving, thanks to Lip's tutoring and guidance. Now, they were entirely shot to hell. He knew he'd have to work his ass off from there on out just to stay afloat if he ever hoped to still make it into West Point.
He inhaled deeply and pushed himself away from the locker, intent on making it through the school day. He rubbed a hand down his face as he glanced around the crowded hallway, feeling discombobulated as he tried to remember which direction his next class was in. He froze when he caught sight of Mandy Milkovich walking in his direction.
Once Mandy was a few feet away, she did a double-take, no doubt realizing she was being gawked at. "Can I help fuckin' you?"
Ian knew he was treading on dangerous ground by talking to her, but he pushed ahead, desperately needing answers. "You're Mandy, right? Mandy Milkovich?"
"Yeah," she answered with a sneer. "Who the hell are you?"
"Uh, I'm Ian… Gallagher," he stammered. "We have History together."
"Okay," she intoned, looking unimpressed as she gave him a once-over. "The hell do you want?"
Ian hiked his backpack higher on his shoulder as he shuffled nervously on his feet. "You're, um, you're Mickey's sister, aren't you?"
"Not by choice," she replied, seeming to soften up a bit, though she still kept a wary eye on him. "Why, what's it to you?"
"Nothin', really."
Mandy snarled and nodded curtly before brushing past him. "Good talk, Ian Gallagher."
Before Ian could fully think through what he was about to say, he spun around. "Uh, hey, Mandy?"
Mandy turned around with a questioning look that was bordering on annoyance. "What?"
"Do you know where I can find Mickey?" he asked, the words coming out before he could stop them. "Where he usually hangs out? I need to see him."
"You need to see him?" she asked, looking beyond confused.
"I need to talk to him."
Mandy's mouth slowly curled into a smirk. "Wait, don't tell me you're friends with my brother? My brother doesn't have friends, especially creepy ginger ones." She walked closer, eyeing him up and down warily. "What d'you need to talk to him about?"
"I can't say," he said, swallowing thickly. Mandy was almost as intimidating as her brother.
"You don't have beef with him, do you? Did he stiff you or something?" Mandy asked. "Did he take your lunch money? Are you plannin' on meeting him somewhere with a bunch of your friends? Just to warn you, my brother packs heat everywhere he goes, and he's not afraid to shoot someone."
"No," Ian answered. "Uh, no beef. I just need to talk to him about somethin' important. That's all."
Mandy looked him over once more before finally allowing her hard exterior to crack. "I'm not gonna tell you where to find him. You tell me where he can find you, and I'll pass along the message. If he decides he wants to meet you, he'll show up," she affirmed with a shrug.
Ian ran a hand over his head and nodded, figuring that was better than nothing.
Mandy waited before snapping, "Are you gonna tell me where he can meet you, or are we gonna stand here starin' at each other all day?"
"Oh, right," he stammered. "Uh," he began, trying to think of a place where he could tell Mickey to meet him, someplace safe and secluded, somewhere that could be theirs if Mickey wanted it to be. He considered the abandoned building where everything had started but thought better of it; he never wanted to return there again. He then thought about another place where everything had started even before that; the very first place he'd ever laid eyes on Mickey Milkovich.
"Tell him to meet me tonight at eight o'clock," he answered. "At the baseball field over on Emerald."
Mandy gave him a parting smirk as she walked backward before turning and heading away from him.
Ian watched her walk away, his heart pounding in his throat. He didn't know if Mickey would even show up, or how he would react to him approaching his sister, but Ian had every intention of going to that baseball field and finding out.
When Mandy got home from school, it surprised her to find Mickey out of bed. He was sitting at the kitchen table, an untouched bologna sandwich sitting in front of him, blankly staring off into space as he smoked a cigarette. She was about to open her mouth to shoot off one of her usual sarcastic remarks, but she froze when she saw the bruises and cuts on his face.
"Jesus, what the hell happened to your face?"
"Don't worry about it," Mickey grumbled. "It's none of your business."
Mandy rolled her eyes and dropped her backpack on the floor. "Just wonderin' what fucked-up shit you've gotten yourself into this time. You disappear for two weeks, you get the shit beat outta you by god knows who, you won't get outta bed, then some weird redhead was askin' about you at school today, wanting to meet you somewhere private tonight—"
"Wait, what?" he asked, his head shooting up when her words registered. "Back the fuck up. What redhead?"
Mandy shrugged as she walked to the fridge to grab a diet pop. "Yeah, some Gallagher." She spat out the last name as if it was a dirty word. "He came up to me after my fifth-period class and asked me where he could find you. I told him I wasn't fuckin' tellin' him anything, that if you wanted to meet him, it would be up to you to show up. He said to meet him at some baseball field over on Emerald tonight at eight."
Mickey took that information in, not exactly knowing how to feel about it. On the one hand, he couldn't believe Ian had the balls to go up to Mandy and ask about him. He was both embarrassingly happy and undeniably pissed off at that fact. He'd made it clear to Ian that he wanted Mandy to have nothing to do with any of it. On the other hand, he felt relieved to know that Ian didn't hate him for disappearing on him.
He rubbed the nape of his neck, hoping Mandy wouldn't press for more information, but she did.
"So, you mind tellin' me how you're even associated with a fuckin' Gallagher?"
"Don't worry about it."
"Broken record, much?"
Mickey shot her the finger.
"Does the kid owe you money or something?"
"Fuck off," Mickey said as he stood, intent on disappearing back into the safety of his room.
"Just don't kill the kid if you meet up with him," she called out. "He's kinda fuckin' adorable. I might have to hit that."
Mickey halted the slightest bit before making it to his room.
Ian walked into the house and dumped his backpack and coat on the floor before making his way to the kitchen, intent on fixing himself a triple-decker turkey sandwich. He'd skipped lunch to get some homework done, and he was fucking famished. When he entered the kitchen and reached for the fridge, he found Frank standing at the counter, no doubt searching the cupboards for any loose change he could rob from his own family.
The rage Ian felt in that moment at the sight of Frank was indescribable.
Frank looked up after sensing he had company. "Oh, hey there, son," he said casually as if he had no idea Ian had been missing for weeks because of him. "You got any money for your dear ol' dad?"
Ian said nothing at first. He stared back at Frank with clenched fists, his anger stewing. After a few beats, he rushed at him, crashing into him and slamming the older man hard against the counter.
"You son of a bitch!" Ian growled as they both collapsed to the floor. He straddled Frank and punched him hard in the mouth, instantly splitting Frank's upper lip. He kept hitting, easily overpowering the weak and drunken older man. "You son of a bitch, piece a shit!" he yelled as hot tears rolled down his cheeks.
Just as he was about to beat Frank into a bloody pulp, he was pulled back by strong arms. He got in a few solid kicks to the man's ribs before he was dragged away.
"Christ, Ian! That's enough!" Lip admonished, holding a struggling Ian back as best as he could.
"Let me fuckin' go, Lip!" Ian roared through his tears as he glared down at a battered, bloody Frank with intense hatred. "Get off me!"
"He's not worth it, man. He isn't fuckin' worth it," Lip said, waiting a few dozen seconds until Ian finally slumped dejectedly in his arms, his breathing becoming slightly less erratic. He eventually loosened his grip on his younger brother.
Ian took the opportunity and shrugged completely out of Lip's grasp. He then stomped through the living room, grabbed his coat, and slammed the door on the way out of the house.
Ian had a good hour and a half before he had to be at the baseball field, so he wandered around the neighborhood, taking the opportunity to clear his head and calm his nerves. He shoved his bloody hands inside his coat pockets and hung his head against the bitter November wind.
Without realizing it, he found himself in front of the Kash and Grab. He stood in the middle of the sidewalk, thinking the place looked exactly the same but not the same at all. It felt like a lifetime ago since he and Kash walked out of the store and were ambushed by the Milkovich brothers.
After dragging nervously on a cigarette and contemplating it for a few minutes, he knew he needed to find a job. There was no way around that, not with the squirrel fund dwindling. Unfortunately, the Kash and Grab was too perfect to let go. Linda was lenient with his hours, and the pay was decent for a job where he sat on his ass most of the time. He just didn't know how he would deal with Kash.
He stomped out the cigarette, opened the door, and made his way inside, immediately spotting his ex-lover doing a sudoku puzzle behind the counter.
The store owner glanced up before doing a double-take. His eyes lit up at the sight of Ian. "Ian?" Kash immediately jumped up from his stool and hurried around the counter. "Ian, oh," he said, grabbing Ian by the back of the head and pulling him in for a tight embrace. "Where have you been? I've been worried sick about you."
"Not worried enough to call the cops, though, right?" Ian muttered into Kash's shoulder, his arms remaining flat at his sides as Kash hugged him.
Kash pulled away, his expression pain-stricken. "I would have," he said. "After a few days, when you didn't show up for work, I went to your family. They told me I couldn't go to the cops. Ian, you know I would've… You know I love you—"
"It's fine," Ian interjected, holding up a hand to silence him, not wanting to hear how much Kash supposedly cared about him; that was the last thing he needed to hear.
"What happened to you?" Kash pressed. "Those guys, they took—"
"Long story, don't really feel like talkin' about it," Ian answered, his tone sullen.
Kash pulled Ian in for another hug and kissed his temple before nuzzling his hair. "I'm so glad you're here. I missed you."
Ian recognized the sudden deep timbre of Kash's voice and pulled away before the older man could get any ideas. He knew that tone well; it usually ended with Kash bent over in the cooler. Not that day. Never again. "I came to see if my job was still open."
"Yeah, of course," Kash assured, reaching up to caress Ian's cheek.
Ian grabbed Kash's wrist, pulling the older man's hand away from his face. "Don't, Kash."
Kash looked genuinely confused by Ian's rejection. "What's the matter?"
"Look, a lot's changed in the past few weeks," Ian said after a beat. "I've changed." He then sighed, deciding to get it over with. "I don't think this is gonna work out anymore."
Kash stared back at him, his mouth opening and closing several times before he said, "Why, what's changed?"
"Jesus, Kash!" Ian exclaimed, his arms flailing. "You're married to my boss! You have kids! I'm sixteen years old! We never shoulda happened in the first place!"
Kash took a step forward, to which Ian took two steps back. He then frowned at him. "What's going on? A few weeks ago, you and I were pretty hot and heavy. You couldn't keep your hands off me. You disappear and come back, and suddenly you don't wanna be with me?"
Ian ran a hand over his face and sighed before saying, "There's someone else, alright, Kash? I met someone else."
Kash visibly stiffened, his expression hardening. "You met someone else?"
"Yeah, someone else. Someone my age," Ian exclaimed. "Someone who isn't married with fucking kids!"
"I see." Kash was silent for a few beats before saying, "Well, then, I'm sorry."
"You're sorry?" Ian asked with a frown. "What d'you mean you're sorry?"
Kash crossed his arms over his chest and looked away from Ian's heated stare. "You can't work here anymore. I've already filled your position."
"What, so because I won't fuck you anymore, I can't have my job back?" Ian bellowed. "Kash, I need this job. You know how much I need this job!"
The older man said nothing to that before turning and heading back around the counter.
Ian stared at his former lover, wondering what the hell he ever saw in the man. "Fuck you," he spat before walking to the door and angrily pushing his way outside.
Ian made his way to the baseball field. He didn't know what time it was; he was guessing no later than seven. He'd lost his watch somewhere between Cicero and Canaryville, and he knew he needed to get a new one soon.
He walked into the dugout area and spread out on the narrow bench, huddling deep into his coat against the cold, the three concrete walls surrounding him breaking the wind somewhat so that the chill wasn't completely unbearable. He closed his eyes and inhaled the cold air, letting it expand his lungs to where it was almost painful.
He didn't know what he'd do if Mickey didn't show up. The truth was, he wasn't expecting him to come. Still, he held onto that small shred of hope that maybe Mickey was missing him just as much as he missed Mickey.
He dozed off from sheer emotional exhaustion alone and woke up sometime later to complete darkness. He didn't know what time it was or how long he'd been asleep. He sat up and looked around groggily, seeing he was still alone. His heart sank in his chest. He rested his head back, closing his eyes and trying not to let the disappointment consume him.
It's not like he'd expected him to show up…
He stood, defeated and frozen to the core, and was intent on heading home, silently thankful that they were able to pay the gas bill that month, so at least he had a warm home to look forward to. He froze in place when he glanced up, spotting a lone figure making their way across the baseball field towards him. His heart thundered in his chest, not believing what he was seeing.
Numbly, he walked his way down and out of the dugout before starting across the field, his heart still pounding in his chest as he did so. The closer he got to Mickey, the more the layers of pain and anguish and sadness that had been encompassing him for the past few days stripped away.
Once he was a few feet away from Mickey, he didn't even look at him. He grabbed hold of Mickey's coat with both hands and tugged Mickey desperately to him, letting out an emotional gasp. They collided into each other and dug their faces in each other's coats, both boys letting out shaky, wet exhales as they clung to each other desperately.