Mickey would never forget the day he found out. It was Tuesday, March 16th at 11:07 in the morning. The sun was shining and it was unseasonably warm for Chicago, at 64 degrees. It would go down in his memory as one of the happiest days of his life.

It had a month earlier when he had woken up to banging on his door and his four brothers barging into his room making Svetlana scream and Mickey grab the tire iron he had kept by his bed for two years.

"Dad's been arrested," Jamie said. They kept talking, but Mickey had stopped listening. He remembers snippets of the conversation: something about forging prescriptions for oxy, lawyers, arraignment. Mickey didn't care. He didn't even know why his brothers were freaking out; this wasn't even close to their father's first time in prison. His longest stint had been three years for armed robbery when Mickey had been seven.

Now, as he stared down at the text from Tony he felt happiness rush over him: "5 yrs. Min 3." Three years. Three whole years without his father breathing down his neck, and knowing his father, it was possible that he would end up serving the entire sentence.

He stood up and was out of the house before he even realized where he was going, he was standing outside the high school. He had only one person he wanted to share this news with, and he wasn't sure he would be happy to see him.

Since they had parted on New Year's they had seen each other a handful of times. Mostly it was random run-ins, but soon Mickey found himself seeking Ian out. Twice, Mickey had gone to the store to get some beer and had ended up staying for an hour and a half, helping Ian restock the shelves. Of course he had complained the entire time, but in truth there had been no place else he would have rather been.

Ian had remained a bit distant for a few weeks, but Mickey could tell he was coming around. They were on their way to becoming friends again, if they had ever really been friends before.

He walked through the doors and was immediately stopped by the security guard, a big white guy with blond hair and a creepy mustache. "Milkovich you know you can't be on campus unless you're a student."

"What's up Ricky? I've decided to come back to school," Mickey said, and the security guard let out a loud laugh. "Yeah, ok. How about this: you let me through I'll have Iggy hook you up with a deal next time?"

"Half off?"

"Sure," Mickey said. Greedy cokehead prick. Iggy was not going to be happy about losing $200 bucks.

"Alright, but you gotta go through the metal detectors. And if you're caught you don't know me."

"Whatever, thanks man," Mickey said. The halls were empty; he looked at his phone but then realized he had no clue what time the classes changed. He wandered around a bit, ducking into the bathroom when he saw a teacher. There was a kid in there who automatically turned white when he noticed Mickey. He laughed to himself as the kid scurried out just as the bell rang.

Mickey made his way back into the hall and was just going to continue to walk when he heard his name. "Mickey?" He turned around to see Mandy and one of her dumb friends, who smiled sweetly at him. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Oh, uh,"

"Go on, I'll meet you at lunch," she said to her friend. She turned to face Mickey.

"Dad's been sentenced," he said quickly as her friend walked away.

"Yeah, I got the text."

"Oh well, I came down to tell you that."

"You're so full of shit," she said with the knowing smile that Mickey hated and started to walk away. Over her shoulder she added, "He has government this period, room 218."

By the time Mickey found the classroom he could see Ian already seated in the 3rd row. He stood at the window trying to get his attention and after a few minutes he succeeded. He saw Ian's face change from boredom to complete shock. Somehow he managed to excuse himself from the classroom.

"What are you doing here?" Ian asked when he stepped outside.

"My dad's been sentenced to five years, I wanted to celebrate," Mickey said, shrugging his shoulders.

"With me?"

"Who else?"

"I have school."

"So?"

"Meet me outside in an hour."

They found their way to the abandoned building, avoiding the ghosts that lived there, and settled on the roof to enjoy the afternoon. Ian had stopped at the store to grab beer and some snacks while Mickey had gone home to grab the weed; they were stocked for a few good hours of fun.

"So why did you come for me?" Ian asked.

"I don't know, figured it would be nice to celebrate with someone who hates my dad as much as me. Hand me the Pringles," Mickey said, lighting a cigarette. "And a beer."

"What's the magic word?"

"Suck my dick?" Ian was not amused. "Alright, please. Thanks."

"So your dad's really gone for five years?" Ian asked, shaking the crumbs of the Pringles jar into his hand.

"I mean, he's gotta serve at least three years, but knowing him he'll end up stabbing someone and have to stay for the full term," Mickey said.

"Here's hoping," Ian said raising his can.

They had been there for around three hours when all of a sudden, Ian started laughing. They had smoked a good amount of weed and had almost finished off a twelve pack between the two of them. Ian's laugh, deep and genuine, brought a smile to Mickey's face; he hadn't realized just how much he had missed it that winter.

"What's so funny?" Ian couldn't respond he was laughing too hard. "Jesus how high are you?"

Finally he was able to start laughing enough to say, "Do you realize what we're doing?"

"What?"

"We're pretty much having a picnic," Ian said and dissolved into another laughing fit. Mickey was confused as to why this was so funny until he remembered the previous summer when he had made fun of Ian and that fucking perv.

"We are not on a picnic," Mickey said defiantly.

"All we need is a basket and a blanket. Too bad the stars aren't out," Ian said.

"Fuck off, Gallagher," Mickey said with a smile. "Looks like you got what you wanted then."

Ian stopped laughing and was silent. He took out a cigarette and lit it, and offered it to Mickey. "I never wanted any of that stuff, you know that right Mickey?"

"What are you talking about," Mickey asked. He had a sense of where the conversation was heading. In all the time they had seen each other since New Year's they had kept the conversation light. The thought of a serious conversation made Mickey's head spin; he was too high for this.

"All that shit you used to joke about: stars, picnics, skipping off into the sunset. I never wanted any of that. I never expected that," Ian explained. Mickey didn't respond so Ian continued: "I'm not an idiot Mick. I know we can't hold hands and walk down the street or kiss in a bar. I never needed the world to know about us. I just wanted to be with you. To know how you felt about me."

"You would have wanted that shit eventually," Mickey said, taking a drag of his cigarette.

"Maybe, but I didn't want it then. I just wanted you," Ian said, taking the cigarette of Mickey's mouth.

"Are you going to leave your wife? Now that Terry is in jail?" Mickey had been dreading this question. Ian had put up with a lot from Mickey over the years; juvie, insults, beatings and he knew that deep down all of these offenses put together would be easier to forgive than his marriage.

"Listen," Mickey started. "She wants to be a US citizen, and in order for that to happen we have to be married for like three years or something. I don't know. We had an interview with some immigration person. Three years."

"Minimum," Ian said with a smirk. Mickey flashed back to them standing in his room months earlier. They hadn't talked about Ian enlisting after graduation and Mickey didn't mind. He would rather have Ian tell him details about sex with that viagroid than talk about him leaving again. "So you're really going to stay married to a whore?"

"She's not that bad. Can barely understand a fuckin word she says but besides that. It could be worse. Could be some bitch who don't know the truth. Plus, she's barely ever around. I think she has some Ruski boyfriend," Mickey said, but he realized it was the wrong thing to say. Ian got up and walked over to the ledge of the building. He leaned against the wall and threw his beer can off. Mickey got up and followed him over. He put his hand on Ian's should. "Gal-Ian."

Ian turned to face him, his eyes brimming with tears. Mickey had never seen him this upset before—angry, yes, but not sad enough to cry in front of him. Mickey didn't even think before he reached up on his tiptoes and pulled the redhead's face to his own. Ian resisted a bit but soon gave in, running his hands through Mickey's hair and down back. Kissing Ian released an unexpected response in Mickey, and soon his own eyes were full of tears.

Mickey was about to take off Ian's shirt when the taller boy broke away. "I still need time. To get used to this all."

"Sure, yeah," Mickey said, rubbing his lip and walked to where the beer was. He looked Ian still standing by the edge. "We're almost out of beer."

"I'll go get some more," Ian said.

"Really?"

"Yeah, need another pack of cigs anyway."

After Ian came back, they continued to drink and smoke until after it got dark out, despite the dropping temperature. And if as the sun set and the stars came out, Mickey thought about how he could get used to lying under dark skies, he certainly didn't say anything. They had time for that.