Mandy always had really shitty taste in literally everything. Food, music, clothes, guys, tv shows – absolutely fucking everything.
When they were younger she went on a kick with some defunct 90s teen vampire drama. Their dad wouldn't have it – put his foot through the tv as soon as she started to watch it regularly.
There had been a moment of satisfaction that flickered through Mickey's chest as he watched the brooding vampire and weirdly super powered blonde teen fade to sparks and shattered glass. But Mandy cried – whole heartedly sobbed complete with heaving chests and erratic panic that made him wonder if she was going to just die right then and there.
So Mickey stole a stupid ass dvd player and hooked it up to his stupid ass tv. It was typical that this was how it ended up because now Mickey was actually forced to watch every single episode of that shit with her. It was always a late night, secret meeting because if their dad ever found out he's sure he'd kick both their asses.
"He's the dumbest piece of shit ever." Mickey grabbed for the crust of Mandy's pizza and shoved it in his mouth.
She hit and shushed him all in one move. It was impressive. "Shut the fuck up."
He rolled onto his back feeling every lump in his mattress. Mandy was staring intently at the screen. Her knees brought up to her face in her position on the floor and – was that a fucking tear? Is she crying?
The tv droned on with the vampire lurking in the corner and going on about having the short end of the stick. How it was harder to be on the outside looking in – harder to be the one aware of him and the teenage girl's proximity than her never knowing he was there.
It was stupid. He hated the fucking show.
Mickey watched from his balcony as Ian left out the front steps. An ache clawing at his chest proving to challenge anything he's ever felt before. He ground out his cigarette and hated himself for it – for everything, for thinking about that show and about how he got it.
He finally understood what it meant to be the one outside looking in. The pain that comes with the knowledge of watching and never doing – of wanting something so much and having that be the sole reason why you never actually make a move.
So he hated himself, a little bit. He could admit that. Because life for him had become like trying to tell someone about a dream you had. You never know where it started or why some people morph in and out but it's ok, and the room is shifting but – don't worry that's normal.
All that ever mattered was the part that made you wake up in a cold sweat and he could say what that was. Could tell you how red hair is the only common feature in every ghost he's ever seen.
It was light out now, he'd been up all night.
The birds were going off like they'd been paid to make just the right amount of noise to make you want to kill them. Mickey didn't hate birds – mostly he could ignore them. Except it was that weird little pattern that they did. A perfect collection of notes in just the right order to make you feel on edge, to make you not trust the silence.
He ran a thumb over the scar punched into his thigh. The first bullet he took for Ian. His apartment smelled weird and the thought to take out the trash was tempting enough but sleep was pulling at his eyelids.
Mickey ripped off his clothes and kept his hand in place with the wound wondering exactly when his scars switched from horror to peace.
"Guess who's standing outside of your building right now."
Ian dropped the glass he was holding and cursed while watching it shatter at his feet. A woman walked past the door leading to the back of the bar and rolled her eyes at him. The look of gross even the staff is drunk obvious in her eyes.
He clutched his phone closer to his ear. "No Lip no. Don't go in."
Ian could hear a siren pass by his brother on the other end. "Why the fuck not!"
He turned around and reached for a broom. "Because Mandy will stab you in your face, chop off your balls – cook them for dinner and then skin me for letting you in in the first place."
His boss jabbed his head around the corner motioning for Ian to hang up and get back out to the bar.
"This is bullshit." Lip mumbled. "It's your apartment too she doesn't run the place."
"Just promise me you wont go in." He hung up and offered his boss an apology. Luckily Ian was his best employee so he wasn't too worried about being fired – at least not until he did something really wrong.
The bar was a dive, nestled between a crumbled movie theater and some cheap restaurant that Ian was about 88% sure was just a front for a prostitution ring. The leggy girls dressed in outfits just too tight to be worn for dinner always dropped in late ordering round after round. A whiskey neat to help them forget about the fact that they were smarter than most people for not getting caught but treated like dumb trash because sex was their job. He always found that concept interesting – never really knew where his opinion lied in the matter.
"Jessica –" He smiled at the tall brunette with pin straight hair. "Usual?"
She rolled her eyes and lit up a cigarette before leaning her head on the bar. "Make it a double. Extra idiotic night."
Ian placed the drink down before her and checked the clock. 2am.
He was praying that Lip would just listen to him for once. Would just find himself a bar close by the apartment to fuck around in until Ian could meet up with him.
His brother had visited him exactly 3 times since he ducked out of Chicago. Usually it was Ian going to see him and not the other way around. And after Lip and Mandy got back together just to break up even more catastrophically than they did the first time it just seemed to make more sense.
But Lip was a little shit. Ian could admit that about his brother. He loved him and would die for him but Mandy was his best friend scorned. There was no changing the fact that Lip had little to no understanding of holding on to someone good for him instead of leaching onto a quick painful fuck. It took Mandy finding lipstick on his shirt just once and she was gone.
Jessica lifted her head and placed her chin on her palm. "Penny for your thoughts?"
Ian poured himself a drink and refilled hers. "Idiot brother showing up a day early." He winced as the alcohol burned down his throat. "Didn't get the chance to tell my roommate."
"They care that much?" She quirked an eyebrow and sipped on the glass with a type of steel classiness most people strived to have.
"They do when your roommate is your best friend and said stupid brother's cheated on ex girlfriend."
A cop car raced by outside the bar doors. He tensed until the sound faded far enough away that he was sure they weren't going to turn around and come back. Jessica looked at him a frown pulling at her mouth
"Is it bad?"
Ian scoffed and grabbed for the bottle again. "Usually she has time to stay somewhere else and avoid him but I don't know what'll happen tonight."
She took another sip. Her lipstick left a shadow of color on the glass and her cigarette mostly just burning down without being smoked – she shook her head. "I mean whatever you're running from."
He was taken aback, a sudden unfurling of fear growing in his stomach. "What makes you think I'm running from something?"
Another girl from next door walked in and waved her down. He thinks her name is Amanda – pretty but young. Too young.
Jessica stomped out the ash on the Parliament and shrugged her shoulders before turning away.
"I don't know, you just got the look."