When Mickey was young his mom would come into his room and smoke a cigarette on the corner of his bed. She never asked to come in but then again – he never kicked her out. There was a small part of him that used to warm at the attention, no matter how fleeting or laced in a drug haze, it was nice.

"Listen to what I'm about to tell you." Her hand shook as she brought the Marlboro to her bloodied lips. "I do this all for love." He sat on his hands in an attempt to not reach out for the woman next to him. "Love is the strongest human emotion Michael."

Another drag of smoke and he noticed blood drip down onto his comforter. The cut on her forehead looking jagged and angry and leaving trace evidence of the only love he'd ever known.

Later that night after Mandy fell asleep curled up between his dresser and closet, Mickey cursed at the spot of blood. His spit doing nothing but making the red bloom in size and he realized that his mother was wrong.

Because he was 10 and he loved her, but his door was locked against her screaming fists anyway. Because Terry was drunk, and because Mandy was only 8. Because the only thing stronger than love is fear.

The bathroom door swung open with a force that could only be achieved from panic. Fiona closed it tightly shut behind her and stood before him.

"Your dad is dead." No remorse, no surprise, no infliction at all. She could have just told him that his shoes were untied. "If you take the fall for this, you'll go away."

His heel hit the base of the bathtub and the noise echoed around them. "It's worth it."

"Is it?" The accusation clear in her voice, "because I'm not talking juvie where you spend sometime serving a time out. I'm talking prison Mickey. This isn't a joke."

He chewed down his nails until he was swallowing blood. "You know how people say they'll take a bullet for someone?" Fiona handed him a wad of toilet paper for his finger. "I think that's shit. I don't want anyone taking a bullet for me."

"Mickey you don't understa—"

"That's what Ian is." He bit back feeling the truth in his words. "He's a walking target." He took in a shaky breath. "I'm not gonna let him take any bullets for me."

Fiona rubbed a hand over her neck and dropped it back down in exasperation. "Well what about you? You think he wants you taking one for him? How do you think he'll feel?"

"I don't care."

"Oh you don't care?"

"No." He growled out the word. "I don't care because if he –" His eyes closed scrunching so tightly that they hurt. "It would be worse than taking it myself."

She eyed him carefully. "But you'll do that to him? You'll let him feel that?"

Mickey thought back to the wedding. To Ian's hurt and hopeful eyes darkening with vodka and pain. He thought back to how much it killed him to marry Svetlana and how sick with fear he was knowing that one bad move and he'd be going to sleep with a bullet between his eyes.

But most importantly he thought about how with each surge of rage and pain the red head clawed at both their skin with – he had to breathe to do it.

Ian was breathing and living and that was the answer in and of itself.

He looked Fiona directly in her eyes. "Yes."

The sun was too bright. Even through his closed eyes Ian felt like he was squinting. An irrational anger began to form in his mind because Todd was supposed to close the blinds before he fell asleep – the blinds were wide open.

Ian rolled over and stared at the man next to him. He wanted to wake him up too. Not because he particularly wanted to talk to him right then but more so for petty vengeance. Because it was his lack of being able to remember the one thing Ian asks that had him up at 7:30 on a Sunday morning. Because why should he get to sleep in if Ian couldn't?

The floor was cold on his bare feet as he made his way to the kitchen. The smell of bacon in the air now officially the only thing spurring him forward. Todd could thank a pig later for the fight he just barely escaped.

But he wouldn't, he was a vegetarian.

"What are you doing up?" Mandy smiled at him from behind her computer. Her legs wrapped up underneath her and a cup of coffee steaming near her hand.

He shuffled over to get a cup for himself. "Blinds."

Mandy laughed. "Ah, Todd's gonna suffer for that one." She chewed off a piece of bagel. "How hard is it for someone to remember to close the blinds? It's like locking the door when you leave."

Ian shook his head in disbelief and sat down at the table across from her. "I couldn't even tell you how many fights we've had over that alone." He reached for a piece of bacon off the plate between them. "I mean full blown haven't talked for days fights."

Mandy rolled her eyes. "Whatever he's a pussy anyway." She typed something out on her keyboard and tilted her head in thought.

"What ya working on?"

She sighed and slumped her shoulders. "Piece on that band I saw the other night."

"Marco's band?"

She nodded before starting to type again. "They're shit but I'm trying to leave that part out."

He reached for another strip of meat. "I never saw him play. Gail said they were pretty good."

Mandy scoffed. "Yea and Gail is also half deaf."

A comfortable silence fell between them with the only noise being Mandy's fingers tapping against the keys. He kicked his feet up on another chair and leaned his head back. Maybe he could fall asleep again after all.

"And he doesn't even like bacon!" Mandy exclaimed closing her laptop with a forceful whack.

Ian kept his eyes closed trying to focus on blotting out the world. "Who?"

"Todd." Her chair scraped across the floor and he could hear her walk back to the kitchen counter. "I mean he comes into our apartment criticizing our food and it just—"

Ian opened an eye. "Just what?"

She took a steadying breath before shaking her head quickly and offering a smile. "Nothing. Just ignore me, it's a shitty day."

Her hair hung limp and blonde. When they first moved into their tiny two bedroom apartment in New York 3 years ago – that was the first thing she did. Ian had spent all day smoking a pack of cigarettes that he didn't even want and Mandy walked through the door with tears streaming down her face and blonde.

He didn't ask why she did it because he knew already. Mandy and Mickey had always been confused for twins when they were growing up. It didn't matter that he was two years older or that she had caked her face with so much makeup she could have been anyone – it was always those Milkovich twins.

When their dad died and Mickey disappeared, Mandy wanted to rip out everything that was Milkovich. It took a different state, new hair, a lot of bad sex and some late night tears and even still – Ian's not sure its helped.

"Did you call his number?" He felt the question irritate his always infected wound. Because it had been three years and he'd tried to put the black haired boy behind him but he couldn't help scratching at the itch.

Mandy slammed her mug down on the counter and turned quickly to the fridge. "No. There's no point he never answers. It's probably not even his number anymore."

He could hear movement behind the closed door of his room. Todd.

Ian stood up and walked toward the bathroom to take a shower. Mandy's frame pinched and her shoulders high in tension – he stopped just before closing the door. "I'll tell Todd he needs to start sleeping at his apartment more."

She turned and sucked in a rattling breath betraying her attempt to hide grief. "No Ian I wasn't saying that –"

He held up his hand to stop her. "It's not you – I just need to wake up to closed blinds for a few days."

She smiled and nodded.

He turned the faucet on in the shower and reveled in the warm feeling of steam immediately beginning to form at the burning temperature. The water hit his skin like bullets, like target practice.

He leaned his head back against the tiled wall and sighed. Water fell into his mouth and rolled across his tongue while he went to form words to no one.

"Happy birthday Mick."