Lip sure couldn't handle his liquor. There was no way he would make it back, especially since he was supposed to be keeping Ian safe. There was no way around the fact that both had to stay the night. Neither Mandy nor Mickey seemed to mind this too much, but there was a flaw. Where to sleep?

Lip had often been accustomed to sleeping in Mandy's bed, he had been doing it regularly since Ian's time in hospital. What were they supposed to do with Ian? After everyone began to cut back on the booze Ian just kept going, as if there was a special prize for finishing it all. Naturally he'd want to sleep in Mickey's room, but that was not going to happen. If Terry were to catch him in Mickey's bed he'd be dead, especially since he could hardly make a run for it. Svetlana would be back soon too.

That left only 2 options, either sleep on the sofa or sleep on Mandy's floor. There was no way Ian was going to risk staying in Mickey's room. He hadn't stepped inside since he left Mickey a letter. Looking at the options the decision was made for Ian that he'd sleep on the sofa, after grabbing a glass of water, a blanket and a pillow, he lay down.

Mandy and Lip had already gone to bed, Mickey had gone to his room. It was strange being here in the dark. Ian had never noticed the street light outside the Milkovich house before. As much as he wanted to sleep, he couldn't. After 20 minutes of playing with his new phone he got a text from Mickey:

I can't sleep either.

Me neither.

With that Mickey grabbed a blanket, wrapped it around him and walked into the living room. He grabbed the remote and put the TV on quietly, it was something he had found himself doing for weeks in hospital; though he was never worried about being quiet then.

"Do you ever sleep?" Mickey simply said.

"Yeah, sometimes. You?"

"Sometimes." There was so much that they both wanted to say, to do, to show. It was with a dry mouth that Mickey picked up the courage, thanks to alcohol, to ask what had been on his mind all night. "Do you remember what happened to you?"

Ian's eyes didn't move away from the TV, he didn't need to see the pain in Mickey's eyes. He'd always known it was there. "Some, not all. It's been taking a while for it all to piece together in my head. It gives me stuff to think about in the middle of the night." Ian knew that Mickey wanted to talk about it all, so he could sleep himself.

"Tell me what you remember." Mickey's voice was hoarse and broken. He never wanted to relive it all, but at least he could explain everything. This was glorious pain, inevitable pain. He just wished he didn't have to be so close to where it actually happened.

"I remember putting that letter in your bed... No, in your pillow. I'd written it the night of your wedding." Ian was glad for the water he now held in his hands, it gave him an excuse to take his time. The memories all blurred together. "I remember walking out of Mandy's room and watching you fall asleep. I could almost feel your heart beat slow down. It was calming, it helped me say goodbye."

"I didn't fall asleep, I was trying to stop it happening. I didn't want to sleep..." Mickey said, finding a spare beer on the ground.

"I know, but I figured that I'd have to go. Mandy and Lip were probably still out there looking..."

"They were asleep. They wanted to rest and catch you before you left. It was only me that was out there, just me looking for you, just me thinking about you..."

"Oh, oh right." Ian said, sitting himself up. The dark room lit up by a light outside and the TV, and the forgotten light from under the kitchen door.

"Is that all?" Mickey said, unable to look up. His hands had somehow become much more interesting.

"No, the next bit took me a while to remember." Ian took a breath before continuing. "I remember the cold, I remember the moon. Then I heard you. You were behind me. I was freezing, I couldn't move from the spot."

"Why couldn't you move?" Mickey needed to understand why Gallagher hadn't moved, what had stopped him?

"I don't know. I really want to remember, but I can't. I thought for a while that maybe it was because it was cold - but that never stopped me going outside before. I thought maybe it was because of your voice - but that never stopped me leaving before. I thought maybe I just stopped myself."

"What does that mean? That it was my voice?" Mickey grabbed his beer and sat next to Ian, their warmth keeping them alive in this silence.

"I think it was the first time to spoke to me." Ian said looking at Mickey's face for the first time since he came in.

"What?"

"The first time you spoke to me, spoke to me like I mattered or had a say. The first time I was allowed to do what I wanted, not just because you wanted me to." Ian knew there was pain, pain is love. "I felt happy in that one word. Don't."

Mickey was so confused. What did this all mean? Gallagher could have done whatever he wanted hundreds of times. He never had to meet up with him, he never had to leave his friends to help him... Why was he making seem like he had to do those things?

"Why did you not think you mattered?" Mickey said a frown on his forehead.

"Because I didn't. Why else did you think I could leave you all behind?" There was no response, "I didn't matter. I wouldn't be missed. At least by joining up I'd be able to help someone who needed me."

Silence. Was it really that hard for Mickey to just hold him and tell him he needed him? Even now, even after what they'd been through?

Mumbling. Ian couldn't understand what Mickey was saying, "What?"

"You did matter. You do matter." Mickey leaned into Gallagher their kiss earlier still playing on his mind.

"No. I didn't. You tried to stop me." Gallagher got up and started walking to the kitchen to get more water. What else did he know?

"What do you mean?" Mickey asked when Gallagher sat down on the other side of the sofa, putting an uneasy distance between them.

"You came over and kissed my neck, it felt so right. Then it happened." Mickey's heart was pounding, or was it just the alcohol. "You couldn't say it back."

Mickey couldn't remember what Gallagher had said, all he could see was what happened next. It had been on loop in his head for weeks, no pause button, just constant colourful picture and surround sound. "Say what?"

"You don't remember?" Ian was confused, what was he doing? He shouldn't be speaking about this, he should leave, he needed to breath.

"No, tell me." Mickey said, he could tell what Gallagher was thinking as he looked at the door.

"I should go. I shouldn't be here, what if your Dad comes in?" There it was, the word that could inflict a different type of pain, fear.

"I need you to tell me." Mickey was desperate no know. There was no way Mickey would let him leave alone. Ian could tell, he had felt this before. Mickey would want to say something, demand information...

"Fine." He was trapped, and although he wanted to tell him, he wanted to reserve it for when the time was right, not right now. "I told you that you didn't love me."

Mickey couldn't look at him. He knew why he didn't want to say it now. There was no way he'd stop there though... Mickey needed to know everything.

"Do you believe that?" Mickey said suddenly finding the infomercial on the TV interesting.

"Look at me." Ian demanded, he wasn't going to tell him this if he didn't have enough courage to look at him. Mickey looked around a small tear forming in his eye. "I did believe that, I don't anymore."

"What changed?"

"I heard what you said in the hospital."