It had been a long time since Mickey held a gun in his hands. Even longer since he fired one. He used to watch his cousins and brothers play russian roulette. Completely engrossed in the way the room would fall into complete silence allowing for the tiny click of an empty round to resonate. The shouts and applause and slaps on the back that followed making him think that they didn't know what they were cheering for. Dumb luck? A one night stand with death that you were able to walk away from? Having the balls to do it?
When he first fucked another guy after disappearing from Ian's life without a word, it put a bad taste in his mouth. When the next guy whispered a breathy Mick as he slammed into him it put a gun in his mouth.
The memories of those nights in his living room watching the animals pass around the pistol again and again yelling out what are you a fag flashing through his head like a bad trip and making his hand shake.
He pulled the trigger - when his skull stayed in one piece there were no applause. No hands grabbing to be the next one in line to give it a go. All he could hear were his owned gasped breaths over the toilet while he threw up every ounce of courage he ever pretended to have.
"Get the fuck out!" He growled while tossing the middle aged prick onto his ass in the back alley. "Read the fucking sign there's no touching the girls." Mickey spit on the ground next to the man's head for good measure.
His hands formed tiny guns with each wrist flicking just slightly as if he were really shooting. Old habits die hard.
Another bouncer opened the door to make sure Mickey wasn't taking things too far. They never said it outright but he could see how they looked at him, the subtle glances whenever a customer started to get a little ballsy and talk back. They thought he was a loose canon.
"You good?" The guys name was Ray – huge and fucking built like a house. Mickey's pretty sure he could kill someone just by accidentally tripping and falling on them. Ray was 27 and putting himself through nursing school during the day and politely asking people to not rape daddy issued little girls at night.
He thought he was in the wrong line of business.
Mickey squared his shoulders and shoved past Ray back inside. A half hearted and bitter 'fine' being drowned out by the hollers of men going nowhere.
He usually gets off work at around 3 but feet were hitting the pavement at 1 that night. His boss tried to make it subtle but it was glaringly obvious – they didn't need another lawsuit and he was having a shitty day.
He always fucking hated birthdays though.
Mickey stopped outside his apartment steps and looked up to the 5th floor. The window toward the corner of the building was lit up with an eerily soft glow. A Sign of life and also a world left for wondering – he flipped on his hood.
His feet always hit the steps in the same way, never on purpose but more so spurred on by a need to retrace something familiar. Humans are most susceptible to pattern, routine – anything to make them feel like they're not entirely fucking alone. Like if he died tonight, maybe someone would still be able to find his traced of life on those steps proving he existed, even just barely.
Mickey's apartment was on the 8th floor, almost directly above that window on the corner. Sometimes he would put his ear to the floor to try and hear the bodies moving inside of it. But it never worked, and all he was left with was a rug burn and more on his mind than before.
"Harder – fuck – yea Ah—"
He slammed his hand against the wall. "Shut the fuck up!"
The moans did nothing but get louder.
His phone was lying on the kitchen counter blinking erratically at him. Missed calls – the only day a year he gets them. And he knows it, knows to leave it at home and turn off the sound to ignore the ring proving that he has people that he misses.
Mandy's voice rang sadly in his ears. "Hey. It's your birthday and I'm –" Her voice hitched and he could almost feel the breath she let out. "I'm calling because I'm an idiot and you're an asshole and somehow that still doesn't stop me." Click.
Mickey reached for a beer and sat down to drain the whole thing. Mandy always caved first – every year she was the first to call. It had started off with a tearful plea to tell her where he was which then was quickly followed by a rage over his abandonment.
But this is worst of all because now she just can't let go.
"Look who's talking." He mumbled to himself before throwing the bottle across the room and getting up for another. The second message – the second missed call knocking on his life, that was the one that terrified him.
He pressed play with clammy fingers and opened another bottle. "Hey." Ian's voice paused and Mickey closed his eyes. "I hope you're doing okay."
Short and sweet and to the point. The most fatal wounds were usually like that.
He plunged his hand into his pocket and fished out the pack of cigarettes inside. Plucking out a single one he walked to the balcony and breathed in a steady stream of smoke.
The city looked sad and it made Mickey smile. Because it wasn't bullshitting him, it was unable to disguise itself. Blinking lights going on and off in buildings that are both full of people giving up and sobbing while pulling themselves back up to face another hour of reality.
It's sort of funny. He left the Southside and ended up in it's exact parallel. New York City – teaming with people dirt poor and shitty like he'd always known. The type of people who can only tell things apart by blood type because blood is what they know and a transfusion may seem more intimate than a kiss.
The front door to the building complex slammed and he watched a man storm down the steps shrugging on a jacket that looked more akin to a fucking Halloween costume.
Todd turned to look back up at the windows and Mickey raised his beer to him. A salute to the scorned man. He waved back and rolled his eyes trying to convey some sort of camaraderie. You feel me man right?
He smiled and took another drag of the cigarette. The knowledge that he knew who Todd was but he didn't know Mickey was one of pure ecstasy. Really Mickey was pretty sure he'd never felt so fucking pleased with himself before.
3 years and only 3 floors away – if Ian and Mandy hadn't noticed now he was sure that they never would. Todd was no threat to him. He was so desperate to get on Ian's good side lately that he's sure the last thing he'd mention would be the man on the balcony upstairs.
You know what they say after all – the best place to hide is in plain sight.