"You know it's not that I don't think I might have – had an indiscretion." Lip mumbled around the cigarette in his mouth. "It's just that I think it's been 3 years and this is getting a little ridiculous."

Ian shook his head and laughed. "You can't say I didn't warn you. Hell everyone warned you."

He waved him off. "You're exaggerating."

"Debbie made a power point about it."

His brother grabbed for the beer that Ian had swiped from work and took a swig. "Yea whatever."

Ian called Mandy just before leaving the bar to give her a heads up and if the tone of her voice said anything it said homicide. He decided to give her a few hours to hole up in her room and make sure she had everything she needed because he knew this game.

She wasn't coming out until Lip was gone.

"How's Fi?"

Lip shrugged his shoulders. "Same as always I guess. Misses you."

"She ever come clean about what happened that night?" Ian dodged his eyes back out to the passing cars trying to maintain a sense of nonchalance.

Lip's feet stuttered on the sidewalk before stopping altogether. "What night?"

He scratched at the back of his neck suddenly feeling oddly exposed. "You know with Mickey and everything that happened – his dad."

"Jesus Ian –" Lip's eyes betrayed his attempt at seeming unalarmed. "You—" He lowered his voice and sighed. "You really need to let that go man."

Mandy's legs gave out from underneath her at Tony's words. Fiona pushed him further back out the front mumbling about coming back tomorrow and slammed the door. It felt like he was in one of those giant paintings you have to study and analyze in school. Where so many people are doing different things and it was your job to figure out the metaphor.

So which one was he? The betrayer? Standing in the corner watching people scramble, sweat beading on his back and blood on his hands. He felt sick.

Fiona took the stairs two at a time and Ian followed blindly. She didn't even notice him skidding to a halt outside the bathroom door as she locked him out of it.

Mickey barged out after no more than 10 minutes and knocked directly into his shoulder. A violent pain crawled along the bruises coloring him underneath his shirt and the blue eyes followed each one.

Ian sucked in a breath to keep himself from screaming and Mickey just continued to stare. He let his fingers hover above Ian's abdomen before slowly dragging them around to his lower back. The motion made him dizzy and he wasn't even sure if Mickey was actually even touching him.

But then the pain blossomed anew – another surge worse than the first because he couldn't look away from those eyes as Mickey pushed his knuckles deeper into his skin.

Ian cried the next night when he disappeared. Tracing over the outline of his final bruise and tearing himself apart over whether or not it was a goodbye kiss or one last 'fuck you'.

They made small talk the rest of the way to the apartment. Ian asking about the family and Lip asking about his job. He seemed very interested in Ian's theory about the prostitutes next door but he could only half listen to anything coming from his brother's mouth. The memory of Mickey feeling fresh and aching and taking up every last bit of energy he had.

"Hey let's go out and do something." Lip stood at the bottom steps with his hands shoved in his pockets. Ian was already half way to the door.

"Like what?"

"I don't know," his brother started. "Anything. I'm hungry, you hungry?" He wasn't. "Let's go get food or something I mean I never come here. I want to take full advantage of some big city living."

Ian could feel the pull of his bed calling to him. Could already safely say that he was not in the mood to go out unless it was to get very very drunk. But the amount of drinks it would take for him to forget about everything laughing at him in his head would kill him and he couldn't die just yet.

He looked down at his shirt and could smell all the sad drunks on it. "Let me just run up and change." Lip clapped his hands in victory and started to run up to join him. Ian reached out a hand and pushed against his chest. "You wait here."

Mandy could still be awake.

There was blood all over the floor and on his hands. Mickey could see the knife glinting from a lamp that had crashed in the fight.

"What did you do?" A voice was screaming at him. Ian – it was always Ian screaming at him in his dreams.

He looked up to see that he was standing in front of a mirror and he gasped at the sight. Because it wasn't him anymore, he was on the other side now, looking in –

Red hair and red blood all drying together. Mickey is screaming at him begging him asking him 'Ian what the hell did you do?'

He woke up with the scream still in his throat. It cut off his air for 3 seconds past the point of it not being scary. The clock read 3:37 and he punched his hands repeatedly down onto either side of his mattress.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck." The words becoming breathier and more strangled the more he went on.

He could hear people arguing outside his window and Mickey ripped the pillow out from under his head to over his face in an attempt to drown them out. Not to suffocate himself – he swears.

"Get the fuck off of me!"

The woman's voice sent him shooting up and practically crashing through his balcony doors. Mandy.

Down below Mickey could see her blonde hair whipping as she pushed past the man shrouded in darkness. He couldn't see his face in the night and with each move she made he dodged back to block her.

For the first time since he moved in, Mickey didn't take 20 minutes of snooping around each corner. He didn't canvas each floor and then make for the most out of the way exit in an attempt to avoid running into Ian Gallagher, he sprinted.

The building doors crashed open with a loud bang and Mandy was screaming now –shrill and hysterical reminding him of when he used to knock down her block towers. The man looked up toward him and Mickey didn't bother to study his features. His whole body reacted wildly with a punch to the guys face and the crunch of bone nearly got him off right then and there.

Mickey's hearing is always the first thing to go when he throws himself completely into something. Some people it's their vision and the world blurs fading into spotty blacks, but not him. His ears started ringing and he could hear people yelling at him but their words were lost. Like someone trying to speak under water and you're grabbing them and shaking because you can only hear bubbles.

A car passed and the headlights shone on both their faces when he paused – somewhere under water the man spoke.

"Mickey?" But he couldn't really hear him and then something seared painfully into his side.

Mickey let go of the body beneath him and turned slowly grabbing for the wound. He stared curiously down at his blood soaked hand. It was exactly like his dream.

"Oh my god –" Mandy stared wide-eyed, so much so she looked dumb. "Holy shit oh my god." The tiny knife fell from her fingers and clattered onto the cement. "Mickey?"

Tears were starting to spill over her eyes at an alarming rate and he just really hoped he wouldn't die before he could tell her just how much he really hated her hair.