For days and days all Mickey could think about was what he had said to Kiera and how she just held onto his hand like if she let go he would lose it. He thought about Kiera's face when they had parted ways, each going to their own block of cells; she had always looked so hopeful and Mickey thought that that was fucking stupid because how could someone look like that? Never in his life had he met someone who had looked hopeful because nobody he knew was; they weren't clever, but they sure as hell weren't dumb enough to hope. That look wasn't there anymore. It wasn't there the next two times they had met when they had sunk back into that silence, only now, it wasn't comfortable and Mickey hated it completely. There were things going on around them, people talking, moving about, but all he could see was a stranger's face where Kiera's once was and all he could hear were the words that she couldn't speak.
Every night before he clambered into bed, he'd pace his cell, back and forth, like the constant movement was a reminder that life was still there, he was still there, even if Kiera had drifted off, out of reach. He paced because it helped him think and Mickey needed to think, he needed to find a way to get Kiera back because, and he both loved and hated her for this, she was keeping him grounded, keeping him from lashing out and prolonging his sentence. She was simply keeping him. Thinking about anything other than sex, alcohol and fucking shit up had never been a talent of Mickey's and before long he had given up because his brain hurt from all the ideas he couldn't think of.
The days between their anger management class seemed to mould into one long, ridiculous day. He felt like how he did during his first week at juvie; same shit, different day. But when it came to Monday and his first class of the week he was filled with a sense of determination that felt similar to the feeling he'd get when he really wanted to inflict damage on some guy's face. However this time, he was determnined to do good or something close to that - very anti Milkovich.
Before Mickey had even fully entered the room he was met by Richard. "Not so fast, we have a new person joining today so we have to do our introductions, make them feel welcome, then you and Kiera can go off and..." he pointed vaguely to the back of the room.
Mickey wanted to protest, tell him he couldn't care less about welcoming another psychotic fuck - the last two people that had joined were literally insane, one of them even knew how to make a bomb - but when he looked he could see that Kiera was already sat on one of the chairs arranged in a cirlce and so he walked over and sat in the one beside her.
She offered him a forced, fake smile and Mickey would have prefered if she didn't even bother.
As he had done the previous times, Mickey completely spaced out as the others introduced themselves and it took Kiera prodding him in the ribs with her finger to bring him back down to Earth.
"Uh, I'm Mickey," he mumbled out, then shot Richard a look which told him to just move the fuck on, and he did.
Kiera stated her name and this time around her fact - she always changed it - was that she once shot her sister in the ass by accident. People sniggered and the new guy gave her a quizzical look, obviously wondering if that was a lie or not. Mickey knew it wasn't. He didn't think she actually could lie.
Once the whole welcoming process had finished, Mickey and Kiera went back to their spot by the radiator because it was still too damn cold to sit at their original spot.
Mickey fiddled with one of his sleeves anxiously, he knew what he wanted to say, it was simple, but somewhere between his mind and his mouth, the words seemed to get lost.
"Look, uh, you know I'm not good with words and shit right, but what the fuck is goin' on with you?" he asked because sure, some people could have worded it in a more delicate, eloquent manner, but Mickey was Mickey; he didn't do either of those things and didn't see the point in beating around the bush.
She looked startled like Mickey hadn't just asked her a question but revealed that he knew one of her deepest secrets. He hoped he hadn't pulled the same face when she had outed him. He really, really did.
"You won't want to hear it," she said, in that same casual manner, looking down at her crossed legs.
Mickey had to fight the urge to scoff because there had been so many times when he hadn't wanted to hear what Kiera had had to say like when she told him she knew guys who would get hard just by looking at him and why the first Lord Of The Rings films will always be the best. But she had never warned him before and that was why Mickey began to feel anxious again because he really couldn't think of anything she might say that warranted a warning.
"I'm sad," she said. "I'm sad because you are and you don't even know it. I'm sad because I can't make you not regret things that you shouldn't regret doing. I know you hate that someone has come into your life and made you feel what it is to be truly alive, to be honestly liked and I know that that isn't something you're used to and that scares you and you hate that. I'm sad because you hate yourself for what you said to Ian and you can see no way to make it better. I'm sad because you can't accept things and I know that if you did, you would feel a little happier." Kiera had looked him in the eyes the whole time she spoke and even though he wanted to, needed to even, even though his brain was screaming at him to do it, Mickey couldn't look away, he just couldn't; like he was in some trance.
What was he supposed to say that? One part of him thought he should tell her to go fuck herself, that she didn't know him or anything about his life, but that would've been an unnecessary lie because they both knew it wasn't true. Another part of him thought he should ask her what the fuck she'd have him do if she was so fucking smart. And then this other part of him, the part that Ian often coaxed out, thought to ask her why the hell she cared, why was what he thought or did or felt any of her concern and most importantly, why was that making her sad. In the end he didn't go with any of them.