"Why didn't you say anything?" Mickey said, still in shock. He wanted to find out how much of that night he remembered only for Gallagher to come out with more information.

"I didn't think you'd need to be reminded of what you said." Ian simply said.

"So what else do you remember?" Mickey said. It could only get worse.

I remember being on the ground, I remember what he did, I remember what he said, I remember what I said... Ian was racing through it in his mind. He didn't want to tell Mickey anything. He didn't need to go back over what had happened. He needed time.

"That's all. I remember being asleep. I was trapped in darkness, I could hear people talk and could do nothing about it." Ian said, trying to brush over the facts.

"What do you remember about that night..." Mickey's eyes said it all, he needed to know. As much as Ian couldn't tell him, he wanted to.

"Nothing, I don't remember anything after I told you you didn't love me." Ian sat back down. He wasn't going anywhere.

"Gallagher..." Mickey had to tell him, he needed to know.

"I don't want to know Mickey." Ian had had enough of this game. Enough was enough. He was starting to feel tired.

"Gallagher..." Mickey again tried to get him to look at him.

"No. I don't want to hear it." Ian got up and started to walk to the kitchen, Mickey got up and followed him.

"Ian."

What the fuck was happening? Why would he call him that? He never thought he'd ever hear Mickey Milkovich call him by his first name. In some ways he preferred Mickey calling him Gallagher. When he hear his surname he always knew who it was, it gave him a sense of security. Ian? What the fuck? He didn't want to hear it, simple as. Ian didn't want to be his confessor.

"Don't fucking call me that." Ian stated as Mickey followed him.

"If I don't tell you, I have to tell someone." Tears were falling down his cheek. "I can't keep it in. I want to tell you, I need to tell you." He had never in his life been this sensitive, or close to being killed. He felt like he was naked in the alibi with every eye watching him. "I promise I'll never mention it again, but I need to tell you."

Ian couldn't deal with this. The final straw. He understood that Mickey needed to talk to someone, but the one person he couldn't expect it to be was Ian. He had a sister who would listen to everything and anything; but he didn't. He had all those chances to tell Lip or Fiona and didn't. For fuck sake he had a wife, who had seen what had happened. Had he spent all those nights since with his wife beside him and not thought to tell her.

With that Ian put down his glass, turned to see that Mickey was turning into an emotional wreck. No, not tonight. He didn't care how he did it, he was leaving. He would use Mickey's own manipulative tricks against him. If he wanted to talk he could talk. Why had he waited until Ian was drunk? Had he not thought that he'd be able to escape?

"I don't care. You have Svetlana to talk to." Ian walked past a stunned Mickey, and picked up his coat. It was going to be cold.

"What? What do you think you're doing?" Mickey said. What was he thinking letting this fucking fag get to him? He remembered why it had happened, he remembered Gallagher saying things that he knew would set him off. Was he really going to start this again?

"Well, I don't remember what happened that night. I've told you that you don't love me, I've told you the same thing tonight, and you still can't bring yourself to say it. You want to get things off your chest so you'll feel better." Ian was slowly walking towards the door, the winter air waking him up again. "How do you think I feel about it all? Do you think that I'll feel better knowing all the details?" Ian was looking Mickey in the eye daring him to say something.

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Do you love me? Or even really care for me?"

"What?"

"Well you told me that you cared for me when you thought I'd never hear it. Was that just a lie? Just a lie to make yourself feel better?"

"No. It wasn't..."

"Well you know what Mick? I just came over to watch a movie and relax. I've at least watched a movie tonight." Ian said as he stopped Mickey being able to get a word in. He was going.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Mickey grabbed his shoulder to try and turn him around.

"I'm going home. Thanks for the drinks. I'll text you." Ian was such a spoilt kid at times, he knew when to let Mickey in, and he knew how to kick him out.

"Fuck you Gallagher." Mickey had had enough. He slammed the door as Gallagher walked home. Why had he bothered? What had the last few weeks, months been about?