Thank you all for such kind reviews, and for favoriting and following. It means so much to me that you like reading this. This chapter came out a little different than I thought it would, but I hope you all enjoy.

The day the two older Milkovich brothers' came for Mickey, he was alone.

Jimmy and Fiona had decided to take everyone out to see a movie since they'd gotten enough extra cash for the luxury. For some reason though, he hadn't felt like going. It was as if there was a weight on his chest that night for some mysterious reason.

"You sure, Mickey? Debs and Carl really want you to go." Lip had asked, leaning against the doorframe with a smoke. Mickey stayed where he was in the bed and stared at his own cigarette. The ex-con had taken only one drag from it, and then watched the rest burn away into ash.

"Yeah, well, that's too bad. I told you I ain't feeling good. Just leave it at that and go have some good times with the family. Besides, I saw the movie last week anyway." Mickey looked up at Lip, who actually had a bit of concern on his face. The two had started to grow as friends.

Great, Mickey had a friend. That's sure as hell something he never thought he'd say in his life.

Lip took a drag and nodded. "Don't be a fucking depressive lazy ass, at least."

"Fuck off, Lip."

Lip gave Mickey a smirk for the road and walked downstairs. Mickey listened as the Gallaghers left, the door closing and locking, then heard them shouting at each other as they got into Jimmy's car—That was most likely stolen—And drove off.

The ex-con lied there, on his stomach as was customary and finally put out the remaining cigarette. Then he shifted onto his back, staring at the ceiling like he's seemed to do a lot lately as he thought.

Earlier, he'd been just fine. He got up at the sound of Fiona's yelling that morning, showered and dressed like she made him, then sat at the table and ate some waffles Jimmy found time to make before he had to leave to who the fuck knew. Then he grabbed his secondhand backpack and went off to his classes before spending a shift at the Kash and Grab under Linda's surveillance.

When he got there, he'd noticed that there was a car across the street watching him. It felt like old times when he'd done something to piss off some guy Terry did a job with. He hated being followed. It kept him on his toes with some creeped out feeling, his gut telling him to run for some unknown reason. When he tried to see who the car was, they slowly drove off, the windows tinted. Shit, who did he piss off this time? He hasn't even done anything in the past six months!

Well, aside from the Felix incident. But none of those pussies bothered to try messing with him afterwards.

At that moment, Mickey forced himself to shrug it off and yell at some kids trying to steal a couple magazines.

But now, it was sort of the reason he was feeling like this. The other reason had happened because of what he found when he came home. Fiona and Jimmy were still out at work, and Lip was at the table talking to Mandy over something. Mickey didn't ever really care what they talked about, but from the way Lip was looking a little heated, he guessed it was over schools again.

Mandy wouldn't leave Lip alone about it. Mickey knew it was because she saw all the good in people, while he saw the bad. Except in Ian and his family. They let their flaws shine through without giving a shit what people thought. And they were still mostly nice about it all.

Mickey found the stack of mail on the counter that hadn't been looked through, just got tossed onto the counter without much regard. It was there he noticed a letter. Not the letter specifically, but the handwriting on the envelope containing the letter.

Ian's newest letter to them all.

The recognition of the red head's handwriting had made the ex-con stop in the middle of the kitchen, eyes glued to the envelope. He completely forgot why he was standing there in the first place, but now this was where his attention stayed. Mandy and Lip were too engaged with each other to pay him any mind. He could just take the letter and read it.

Fuck no, not a chance he was going to. Who gave a shit what Gallagher wrote anyway? It's not like he plans on writing back. He'll never write, that'd be too gay.

Yet there he was taking the letter and going quickly up the stairs to his-Ian and Carl and Liam's room. Mickey closed the door and went over to the bed, sitting on it as he ripped open the envelope. It was stupid and faggy, but Mickey could swear he smelt Ian's scent on the paper.

He was more careful with opening it than he had been with the envelope. His eyes followed every word it said, taking it in like the red head was there in person saying it all to him.

Dearest Gallagher fuck ups and Mandy,

Again, I'm perfectly fine. All ten fingers and toes are counted for. If you thought that summer in Chicago was fucking unbearable, wait until you're walking through the desert with all your gear on your back.

The guys here are good to me. The company is like a whole entire second family. We tell each other everything. Xavier tells us about his mom's cooking, which he has been lucky enough to receive along with his girlfriend's letters. And there's Chris, who talks about what it used to be like at home taking care of his siblings whenever their dad worked late shifts.

We all miss our families; we'd do anything to be back at home. I miss you all, and I love you. Yes, Mandy, I love you too. And no, I will not ask Chris for a picture to give you. Satisfy your needs with Lip. Ew, wait, don't tell me if you do or not, I don't need to know what my brother does.

Debs, I'm sorry for missing your birthday. I'll make it up to you when I get back. Tell Carl not to poison anyone again. And that he is not to follow in Mickey's footsteps.

Tell Mickey that my ass is still intact for me. And that even if it'll get my tongue ripped out for being said, he should know that I miss him. I think about him just as much as I think of each of you.

Love, Ian

By now, Mickey had every word memorized. Ian thinks about him. Every day. It made his heart try to burst out of his chest knowing that.

That's why he couldn't stop feeling heavy. He wanted to have Gallagher there with him instead of fucking feeling like his life was ending. Mickey didn't want to feel like this, like there was something inside him missing. It wasn't fucking fair he had to feel it.

The sound of the front door getting kicked in was what made Mickey get out of bed.

"Mickey! Faggot, we know you're here!"

Joey. Joey was here. And he knows.

"Get your ass down here before we tear the place apart!"

From the sound of it, both brothers were there, and pissed. Such a great Milkovich combination.

"What do you two dickheads want, Joey?" Mickey asked as he waltzed down the stairs into the living room. Both older boys were standing in front of the couch, faces contorted with anger and resentment. Joey walked around to meet Mickey, staring him down.

"We know it was you. You fucking assmonkey!"

"You know, your devotion to our dearly departed father is kinda sad, Joey. Congrats on figuring out I like cock. Do you two plan on finishing what dad started?" Mickey's voice was full of contempt.

He may have been afraid of Terry, but his brothers were another story. They were just followers. They were fucking dumb ass puppies who respected the guy and did everything they were told. It was pathetic, just like they were. They were weak, stupid, and sure as fuck ignorant.

"You fucking bet we are." Joey grabbed Mickey by the neck and pinned him to the wall. The ex-con kneed his brother, and then threw him over the couch when he stumbled back. The third Milkovich brother lunged at Mickey, making them fall back to the ground where they struggled until Mickey got a new fist to his face, taking him by surprise.

Mickey recovered as quickly as he could. No fucking way was he going to get his face bashed in by these two. The familiar adrenaline pumped through the ex-con. Another knee to the groin and punch to the nose was all it took to get his brother off. Then the two played unfairly, grabbing Mickey while the other punched him repeatedly.

He sagged as he let the pain in. Pain was a friend, it was welcomed. This was all he needed. Mickey head-butted Joey then shoved the other away and succeeded in grabbing the bat.

"One more step and I bash you both." He warned. The looks they shared were enough to know their family ties were severed.

"You're fucking dead to us. You understand?" Joey growled.

"I couldn't give less of a shit than I do now. Get the fuck out before I break your kneecaps. You need 'em to run."

With a final glare, the brothers left. Mickey knew the Milkovich brothers weren't going to stay gone. Then again, it's called being drunk and having poor short term memory. Those fucks won't see straight the next time they come over.

By the time everyone got back home, Mickey was back in the bed like nothing had happened.