A/N: It's been a while since Ian and Mickey broke up, but they miss each other more than anything. Ian has time to think about how much he needs Mickey and hopefully fix things. He'll do what he can, no matter how Mickey is treating him. Words are just words, it's not like they can hurt him…right?

Ian had gotten tired of him, had finally moved on. He knew it would happen, but he was hoping the redhead would stay around for a little longer. Insecutities came creeping in, his father's words echoing in his mind.

"You're a worthless piece of shit, you still think anyone can deal with you? That's why your mother left! She got tired of your bullshit!"

No. Ian wasn't like that. He loved him. He knew that. It was just how he was...when things became too much, he ran away. Mickey just felt, for some reason, that this time, he wasn't coming back. He figured he should be happy he had been sent this angel of release to make his life less shitty. Don't cry because it ended, smile because it happened or some shit like that, right?

That's what Mickey told himself every night as he tossed and turned on their bed. It seemed like a ritual now, as he went to sleep, he grabbed Ian's pillow, pressed his nose on it and inhaled. The scent of the redhead, his favorite scent in the world, seemed to be fading away. Mickey had no idea what he would do when it was finally gone, since this was the last piece of Ian he had. He was not ready to let go.

He opened his closet to retrieve his hidden bottle of Percocet, the one he took when things hurt too much, when he saw Ian's favorite green sweater in the corner. He desperately took it in his hands, caressing the soft fabric. He closed the closet, enveloped himself in the sweater and curled up on Ian's side of the bed, bottle long forgotten. It felt like being hugged by his redhead after such a long time.

For the first time in weeks, Mickey slept without having nightmares. Sure, he missed the heat Ian's body provided more than anything. But he had Ian's scent filling his lungs once again. And that had to do. At least, for now.

"Hey, Ian, are you ok?" Fiona asks, as she looks at her brother with a look of concern.

"No, I'm not." Ian answers.

She waits for him to elaborate and when he doesn't, she asks "Is this about Mickey?"

"Yes, it is about Mickey. It always is, isn't it? I thought I made the right decision by breaking up with him, but I miss him so much, Fi. I can't do this anymore." He says, with tears in his eyes.

"Ian, I don't know what to say. Do you want me to make you a cherry pie? They used to make you feel better when you were a kid."

"I think I'm gonna start taking the meds again." Ian says, ignoring Fiona's question.

Her eyebrows raise in surprise.

"Are you serious? This is so good, Ian!" She grins.

"Yeah...that's what he wanted. I wanna do this for him. Maybe...maybe if I take them, he'll want me back, right?"

Fiona sighs.

"Ian, I don't think Mickey'd want that. You need to do it for yourself, not for him." She places her hands on his shoulder.

"Yeah, but since I can't do that.." He doesn't finish.

She nods. They stay in silence for a while, when he says "About that pie..." Fiona giggles and hurries to the kitchen to make it.

It's late at night, long past midnight when Ian hears his phone ringing. He looks at it, startled from his thoughts, since he hasn't been able to sleep before 4 a.m. since it happened.

The name on the screen is one he hasn't seen in a while. His heartbeat is suddenly so much faster. He clicks on the answer button, but finds himself unable to say anything.

After a minute of silence, he hears a sloppy "Ian?"

Mickey is drunk, he instantly recognizes in his tone.

"Hey, not gonna answer me? Fine. Not like a give a shit. I just wanna know why, Ian."

When Ian doesn't say anything, for the lack of words is unimaginable, Mickey sighs.

"Fuck, I tried everything. I gave you all you wanted. I took fucking care of you. I tried to be a good boyfriend. Why wasn't it enough?"

"Mick-" Ian finally says, but the brunette is still speaking, his tone growing louder.

"How am I supposed to live now? I don't know what's happening to me but I fucking knew I shouldn't have fucked you that day, five years ago. Then I wouldn't have to suffer like this. How did you expected me not to fall for you when you're so..." He doesn't finish, says instead: "You broke me, Ian! I hate you! I hate you!" Mickey sobs into the phone.

When Ian has the courage to speak, the line goes dead.

Mickey Milkovich wakes up the next day with the worst hangover ever.

He rubs his eyes, as the events of last night come rushing though his mind.

Fuck, what had he done? Why had he said those things to Ian? He was so mad and tired of suffering and the alcohol had given him the courage to do it.

Of course he didn't hate Ian, as much as he wishes he did. It would all be so much he easier if he hated him. But all he could feel for the redhead was love. And that was something he had no control over.

Now Ian would never want him back. He had screwed up big time.

I hate you! I hate you!

The words echoed through Ian's mind.

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.

Bullshit. Those words hurt more than all of those times people would punch or kick him. They hurt like a thousand knifes in his heart.

He had finally done it. He got Mickey Milkovich, the most important person in his life, to hate him.

He suddenly feels the need to take his pills in one big swallow. They would numb the pain.

At least he was taking them for himself now, right?

Mickey didn't know for how long he'd been wandering through the neighborhood, he didn't even know where his legs were taking him.

He should have expected to end up there, though, his subconscious looking for any piece of Ian it could find.

He checks to see if anyone was there and when he sees there wasn't, he enters the field.

That was their place, the one they'd been to too many times, most of them when things were so much simpler, when it didn't hurt like this.

If he closed his eyes tightly enough, he could still hear their desperate breaths echoing through the place. He could see Ian looking down at him with such affection he hadn't seen in a while, but craved so much - even if he didn't want to admit it -, his pale freckled face beautifully reflecting the moonlight.

Suddenly he hears a voice calling his name. He thinks it is just a figment of his imagination, so he keeps his eyes shut.

"Mick?" The voice calls again, this time closer.

When he opens his eyes, he gasps. There stood the boy whose face he'd been dreaming about every single night.

"Good, now I'm hallucinating too." He mutters, as he squeezes his eyes shut one more time.

"What? No, Mick, it's me!" Ian says. When he touches the other boy's shoulder, he flinches.

Ian's eyes fill with hurt. He hadn't seen Mickey flinching away from him in a very long time. Actually, Mickey used to act like that to hide his sexuality from the world and mostly, from himself. But now he had no reason to hide, so why wouldn't he let Ian touch him?

Reality crushes him like a million stones.

"Shit, you-you really hate me, don't you? F-fuck, I shouldn't be here-" He stutters, as tears begin to blur his vision.

He makes a move to leave, but the he hears Mickey speaking, barely audible:

"I could never hate you."

"What?" Ian turns around and gets closer. Closer than it would be considered safe.

"I-I could never hate you. Sorry if I told you that. I wasn't really in my best mind last night." Mickey says, looking at anywhere but Ian's eyes.

Ian nods. They staysilent for a while.

"How did you know I'd be here?" Mickey asks, quietly.

"I didn't. I just-I felt the need to be here. This is were I come when I feel lonely, actually." Ian admits, shyly. Then, "I miss you."

Mickey lets out a laugh, but it sounds humourless.

"Sure you do."

Shit, why is he acting like this? Why won't he even look at me?

Would you at least look at me?

This all felt too familiar.

"I do. I really do." He takes a deep breath and decides right then that he needs to fix this, to fix them.

"Mick, I-" He is interrupted by Mickey's mouth pressing into his in a sudden movement.

It's not gentle. Teeth clattering desperately, as if trying to absorb each other's taste.

Their bodies slam together, as if they're trying to become one. They get impossibly close, afraid that if they let go, it all might be a dream.

If this is a dream, then let me sleep for the rest of my life.

After a while, they come up for air and finally look into each other's eyes.

"Fuck..." Mickey mutters as he bits his lower lip. "This shouldn't have happened. It was a mistake" Mickey says, throwing on the floor a can of beer Ian hadn't noticed was there until now .

Wow, words really could hurt more than anything.

Fucking words.

Ian expects him to leave, but it seems like they are unable to move.

"Nothing between us is a mistake." Ian says.

"What the fuck, Gallagher? Stop with this right now, ok? You were the one who called this off, so don't expect me to be nice about it." Says Mickey, defensively.

"Oh, so I'm Gallagher now? Ok, then, I see how it is! We're back to fucking high school times? What are you gonna do? Hide in the closet again?" Ian says, but as soon as the words leave his mouth, he regrets them. "Mick, I-I'm sorry-"

Mickey pushes him. "Fuck you! Stop being so damn ungrateful! I've done everything for you! I gave you my fucking love! This isn't fair, stop doing this."

"I know, Mick. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that, fuck" Ian runs a hand through his head. "I love you, you know that, right?"

Mickey freezes, mouth opening and closing several times. "I do."

"I never told you, but I should have. You are a person who deserves to know how much you're loved. Sorry if I didn't make you feel like it."

Mickey is left speechless for a couple of minutes.

"I felt loved with you. I've never...felt this. Things got shitty, sure, but you made me happy, Ian." He says, looking at the ground.

Made.

"I'm taking my meds again." He doesn't mention that Mickey is the reason why he's doing it.

"That's great, Ian." Mickey smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

Ian hesitates before saying. "I need you. I can't go through this alone, Mick. I am willing to get better. Please, give me another chance. I can't promise that I won't screw this up, but-"

"Will you stop being so fucking gay and kiss me already?" Mickey asks, but his tone is teasing.

Ian was more than happy to comply.

"I love you too, Ian." Mickey says as he pulls away, eyes shining with affection.

Ian smiles.

"Is that my sweater?"

Mickey looks at himself and blushes.

The redhead looks at him with a satisfying look on his face and Mickey growls "Fuck off." He can't help but smile while he says it.

Ian smiles back as they kiss each other again.

That night, they make love under the stars and Mickey wouldn't admit it to anyone else, but it is the best night of his life. As he lay there, in his lover's arms, he promises himself he will never let go of Ian again.

Little did he know the redhead was thinking the same thing.