They lost themselves in the busy chaos of New York and it was actually the one place where they were able to move into a semi-permanent place. Tegan even enrolled into a school, although with all the fights that she got into, that probably hadn't been the best idea in the world. Mickey got a job as security for a strip club, which wasn't half bad because it paid well, but the girls kept trying to hit on him. And that freaked him out more than he would be willing to admit ever.
Kara worked in a nearby clothes store, which was only really because she could steal them stuff.
He found that it was weirdly domestic in a fucked up sort of way. Fucked up in that they all drank a little too much, including Tegan who'd hit her teens. They swore at each other more than they talked sometimes and their way of getting each other to calm down was to pass over a joint. But it still worked.
And that was something that freaked Mickey out almost more than girls hitting on him did.
"What do you miss about Chicago?" Tegan asked him on one of the hot, uncomfortable days in New York, when the air felt like it was trying to choke him from the inside out with every inhalation. They sat on the tiny balcony that their apartment had, their legs dangling down over the edge through the widely spaced bars. He was only wearing boxers and she was stretched out in shorts and a bikini top. He didn't like it, he thought she already looked too grown up, but he remembered that his sister had been the same at fourteen.
He'd hated the sudden growth she'd had from kid to practically a young woman. And he hated it all over again with Tegan. Except Tegan was more vicious than Mandy had actually ever been. She always had some weapon hidden on her no matter how little she was wearing.
They had a packet of cigarettes in between them, the number steadily decreasing and cans of beer in a bucket of ice behind them. This was their form of going to the beach as far as Mickey was concerned, since neither of them could actually be bothered to move.
"Nothing," he replied quickly, probably too quickly, flicking away the end of his cigarette and lying back own on his elbows. He didn't care that the metal of the balcony was digging into him a little, he'd definitely been more uncomfortable before. "It was shitty."
He knew she was staring at him without even having to bother looking.
"You have to miss something," she said with complete confidence, her mind already made up, "It was your home."
And then he knew why they were even having this conversation.
It was because Tegan had never really had a home. She'd always been moving about, she'd never settled. And because of that Tegan had always felt like she'd missed out on something phenomenal. Maybe she had, Mickey didn't know. He didn't know a hell of a lot about placed you'd call home. His Dad's house had never been home, not to him. He knew it had been to Mandy, because that was where all of their family had been, that had been where they'd all been raised. But eternally living in fear of getting your head caved in by one of your brothers or Dad wasn't exactly something that Mickey thought a home was supposed to feel like.
"Teeg," he said, voice low, almost exasperated sounding, "Home isn't about staying in one place for longer than a few months, it's about the fucking people; and the people in Chicago were just as shitty as the buildings."
A frown pulled her features together, mashed them up and made her less attractive than before. She was a pretty girl, which actually just pissed Mickey off. Because he already had to hide her from her Dad, but because she was pretty, he also felt like he had to defend her from all the douchebags out in the world.
"My home's where you and Mum are then," she said with ultimate conviction, "But there has to be someone you liked in Chicago."
He pulled a face to show how much he really didn't want to be having this conversation, but he knew Tegan was feeling a slight buzz from the beers she'd drunk and was in a talkative mood. "My sister Mandy," he admitted, hoping that would placate her, "She's the only one I miss from that shithole, now can you fucking drop it?"
She looked at him for a minute. It felt like the longest minute of his life, but he refused to crack and look back at her like she obviously wanted. "Liar," she scoffed, but he left the subject be anyway. That was what he liked about Kara and Tegan, they didn't push him.
He didn't want to think too much about the fact that she could tell he was lying. Especially not since he knew she was right.
Tegan was fifteen when Mickey's old life caught up with him again, but it wasn't in the way that he thought it would. He found it was weird though that he actually based time passing off of how old Tegan was. For some reason that made him feel almost like a parent or something stupid like that, but those thoughts in his head were retarded, so he kicked them out as soon as they entered.
"Mickey Milkovich! Haha, no fucking way, I thought it was you!"
He had never been more glad for Tegan to not be with him. She was inside the shop he was standing outside of, trying to find a hat that she didn't think made her look stupid. He'd been punched for saying that all hats made her look stupid, hence the reason he was standing outside.
He glared at the person suddenly standing in front of him, taking a deep pull from his cigarette. Of course, Lip Gallagher wasn't like most people though and he didn't run as soon as Mickey glared. He sort of wished the guy would, but Mickey's luck just wasn't that good.
"The fuck you want?" he asked eventually, pushing his tongue into the corner of his mouth and trying to look like he didn't care in the slightest. That had didn't care that now they were going to have to leave New York because someone had recognised him. Of course, of all people it had to be a fucking Gallagher. The one family he wanted to avoid more than anybody else, more than even his own. Because the Gallaghers had one person among them who scared Mickey a lot more than his Dad ever could, because the worst his Dad could do was kill him.
Mickey realised during the end of his teenage years that there were actually some things that were worse than death.
"What the fuck are you doing in New York?" Lip countered, because he was a stupid shit like that and he thought just because he had a few thousand more brain cells than the average person that he could get away with anything.
"None of your business," Mickey barked back, shifting a little uncomfortably because he knew that Lip wasn't the sort of person to travel on his own. The Gallaghers usually moved about in packs, or at last they'd used to. And he remembered all too well who had used to be Lip's shadow.
Lip laughed, scrubbing a hand through his hair and grinning wide and so fucking stupid. Like he was pleased about something that Mickey didn't even have a chance at comprehending. "Just thought I'd come see if it actually was you," he said eventually when he realised that Mickey wasn't actually going to say anything else, "Most of us figured you were dead actually, since nobody's heard from you in so long."
Mickey felt his lips twist into a sneer. "Sorry, I'll remember to fucking call you next time," he said, the sarcasm laid on thick, "Hope you didn't mourn me too fucking much." Normally he wouldn't have even bothered commenting, but he was slightly high and in some stupid way he sort of hoped some stuff would get back to Mandy.
"Wasn't me who gave a shit," Lip said and Mickey wondered if there was some sort of hidden message in that comment, "So why the hell you in New York?"
"How's Mandy?" he asked instead of answering, because he sort of wanted to now. And it wasn't too stupid to be asking after his baby sister.
Lip stared at him for a minute. "Annoyed that you didn't come home for the funeral," he said eventually, "But yeah, she's fine." Lip rubbed the back of his neck like he wanted to say something, but didn't know how. And Mickey had a feeling he knew what it was about, but Mickey cut him off before he even had a chance to speak.
"What funeral?"
It wasn't really any surprise that he hadn't heard about the funeral, because he hadn't been in contact with his sister since he'd left. He'd thought it was better that way; and safer. But it did mean that he was completely out of the loop.
"What funeral?" Mickey repeated when all Lip did was frown at him.
Lip opened his mouth, but then hand tugged at his elbow and he looked over at Tegan who struck a pose. "Wotcha think?" she asked, pulling on the edges of the hat and grinning. It was a panda, complete with ears and everything.
"You look fucking stupid," he replied, because it was sort of true. The hat was stupid anyway, but Tegan just didn't suit hats. Kind of like him. It just didn't look right.
"Don't be a dick," she said, pouting, her eyes going wide in that way that struck a cord inside of him, "I think it looks cute."
He rolled his eyes and refused to be affected by those eyes. "Well no shit, you wouldn't have bought it if you hated it," he said, stating the obvious.
Tegan just snorted and then looked across at Lip who was standing there watching the entire exchange. "Who the fuck's he?" she asked, her frown turning into a scowl for the longer than she looked at him.
"Nobody," Mickey said, but there was an edge to his voice that clued her in. He could tell from the expression on her face, the one that said that she knew they were going to have to be leaving soon. Right when they were actually starting to get comfortable.
She chewed her bottom lip for a moment, looking completely vulnerable, but then her expression hardened and she just seemed to shut down. She edged closer to him, their arms touching and he saw her hand dive into her pocket, no doubt clutching her knife.
"Lip Gallagher," Lip introduced himself after a minute when he realised that Mickey wasn't going to do it. But why the fuck would he, especially when he knew that Tegan wasn't going to care all that much. "I've known Mickey since like forever."
"Good for you," Tegan said and Mickey got that feeling of pride in his gut again for some reason.
Lip smirked like he was finding something about this scene ironic.
"Who the fuck died, Gallagher?" Mickey asked again, remembering his previous question suddenly. Normally he wouldn't have given a shit, especially since he knew it obviously wasn't Mandy, but he felt like this information was of great importance or some shit like that.
Beside him, he can tell that Tegan noticed the razor sharp edge to her voice, one she'd never really heart before because she tensed up and her fingers curled around Mickey's elbow like she had to remind him that they were in public and he couldn't beat the shit out of anyone here. He knew that Lip saw that and he also knew that Lip had noticed by now that Tegan was wearing Mickey's jacket. And it was obviously Mickey's because it was far too big and it was old and ragged, one Mickey had always used to wear in Chicago when the weather was shitty.
He let her wear that coat because he thought then maybe it would replace the memories that the material seemed to hold. Sometimes he wanted to burn the coat, because it felt like secrets were stitching into the seams and had been collected in the pockets, but he never could bring himself to actually do it.
"Your Dad," Lip said eventually and Mickey felt the words loosen something inside of him at the same time as something else tightened. He winced a little when Tegan's fingers gripped his elbow even tighter. Her nails dug in through the material and into flesh, but he said nothing. "Was a heart attack or some shit."
Mickey's eyes narrowed as he tried to work out whether or not Lip was lying, but he didn't know what the fuck he would get out of lying about that. "Good," he said bluntly, because honestly the relief rushing through him was insane. He'd never felt anything quite like it, it almost felt addictive. But he still knew that he wasn't safe. Even if his Dad was dead, there were still his brothers. But they were all fuckwits and they had the attention spans of fucking goldfish so they didn't actually scare Mickey at all.
But still, he wasn't stupid. He knew not to let his guard down.
Lip didn't even look mildly surprised at Mickey's reaction. "Yeah well Mandy's kind of pining for you or some shit," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I think she thinks that now your Dad's dead, you'll come back."
And when he glanced at Tegan, he could see the question in her eyes. "Are you going to leave us?" She trapped her bottom lip between her teeth and her eyes went all wide and fucking stupid looking and she actually looked like she was about to cry. Except Mickey knew she wouldn't because he was pretty sure by now that he'd trained her not to.
He shook his head ever so slightly that the action was barely even there. But Tegan caught it. And he wanted to say that if he did go back, he'd be taking Tegan and Kara with him because he didn't know how to function without them clogging up his schedule. Except, that would have been really gay and it would have made it seem like he gave more of a shit than he was comfortable feeling, so he kept his mouth shut and instead looked back at Gallagher.
"Yeah well, not really anything in Chicago worth going back to, is there?" Mickey said, making sure he sounded cold and bored as fuck, no real emotion there at all. He didn't look Lip in the eyes, he couldn't. Not even when he next spoke and Mickey was pretty sure he thought the feeling twisting inside of him meant he was going to puke.
"Your fucking sister?" Lip said, looking like he wanted to hit Mickey, but instead he chose the wiser option and took a step back. "And by the way, my brother hasn't got shot yet," he said as a parting line, because Lip was fucking cocky like that and more gay than Mickey could ever be even though the guy was definitely straight. "Just in case you gave a shit."
And Mickey did. He gave more of a shit than he would ever be willing to admit. But he'd be damned if he was going to admit that to anybody. So he just spat on the floor and turned his back on Lip as the guy walked away. He looked down at Tegan and met her eyes for a split second, which was a mistake. He knew it was a mistake because she reached up and patted his cheek in a sort of understanding way that made him feel sick.
Eye contact was definitely bad; but then he'd already worked that much out.