Chapter 16:
December 25th at 10.33 A.M.
To: Ian.
I never did find out if you celebrated Christmas, but if you do, Merry Christmas and if you don't, have a good Tuesday. -Mickey.
December 25th at 10.36 A.M.
To: Mickey.
You and my dad both got me the same perfume. -Q.
December 25th at 10.37 A.M.
To: Mickey.
Merry Christmas, Mickey :) -Ian.
December 25th at 10.41 A.M.
To: Ian.
Hope your face is okay.
January 1st at 00.01 A.M.
To: Mickey.
Happy New Year, Mickey!
January 1st at 00.02 A.M.
To: Ian.
Back atcha. I miss talking to you.
January 1st at 00.05 A.M.
To: Mickey.
Me, too. Not long now until school. I'll see you then.
January 1st at 00.06 A.M.
To: Ian.
I guess.
January 1st at 00.11 A.M.
To: Mickey.
Cheer up, it's the new year! Plus, we're back to assignments, so it'll be back to our corner in the library, with whatsherface shooting us dirty looks. Don't tell me that's not cause for a smile.
January 1st at 00.15 A.M.
To: Ian.
And this is why I miss you.
1 NEW MESSAGE FROM: Mickey.
Morning. Quick text to tell you to get the word around the glee kids that they should bring extra clothes to school. Also, wear a hat, or something. I'm sorry. See you later-B.
Ian raised his eyebrows and re-read the text six times, before sending a group message to everyone from glee club. Mickey never ceased to amaze him.
"Ian!"
Ian swung around from his locker to see Rachel running towards him, grinning from ear to ear. She flung her arms around him before he could open his mouth to speak.
"Eeeeek!" she squealed, squeezing Ian harder.
"Rachel," Ian choked out. "You're.. ow, Rachel."
"Oh!" Rachel pulled away, but her hands were still gripping Ian's arms. "Sorry! How was your break?"
"Fine," Ian said, slowly. "Why are you so happy?"
Rachel took a step back and Ian couldn't help cringing at her outfit. She was wearing a chocolate brown sweater, with a white bear silhouette on it. A frilled collar extended from the round neck of her sweater. At the bottom was a knee-length, red and white plaid, tweed skirt. Over this, she wore a see-through raincoat. The hood was up and her perfectly straight, dark hair fell down past her shoulders and stopped with a straight edge. She wore pristine white, knee socks and black, patent leather, shoes with thick straps across them, which closed at the sides with small gold buckles.
Ian realised then that Rachel had been speaking while he was judging her child-like dress sense.
"Um, what?" Ian said, shaking his head. "Sorry, I wasn't listening. Your sweater is seriously distracting."
"You like it?" Rachel beamed, looking down at her awful attire. "One of my dads' friends got it for me as a Christmas gift. Apparently, they forgot we don't celebrate Christmas, but it's still cute, right?"
"Rachel," Ian breathed, still shaking his head. "As your friend, I'm going to advise you to never, ever, ever wear this ever again. In fact, clear out your entire closet and let me take you shopping."
Rachel's face fell. Her dark eyes were wide and she was frowning. "You —you don't like how I dress?"
Ian opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.
"Never mind that," Ian said, changing the subject. "Why were you so excited again?"
Rachel's face lit up once again and she clasped her hands together.
"Okay!" she said, enthusiastically. "I came to school early today, because I wanted to talk to Mr Schue about a list of songs I compiled over the break, that we could choose from for regionals. I have a lot of amazing songs on there, Ian, I think you'll really like them. I mean, you're a fan of musicals, right? I have a range of songs that covers everything from 'Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat' to 'Wicked'." Rachel was making all kinds of gestures with her hands as she spoke, rather quickly. Ian could only stare. "I've even got 'Phantom' on there. You like 'Phantom', right, Ian? I think you could pull off a great Christine, of course, but I think I would be much more of a suitable choice, don't you? I also added the songs of our generation, because I think the judges would appreciate the variety and so, I have some Usher on there, some Rascal Flatts, some Beyonce—"
"Rachel," Ian said, finally. "Rachel, please stop talking. Is this why you were so excited? Because of a list of songs?"
Rachel looked confused for a split second, then she shook her head. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "No! No, I almost forgot! So, I found Mr Schuester on his way to the teacher's lounge and I told him about my list and he said it was great, that he would look it over and consider some of my choices," she said, looking very proud of herself. "And then he told me that we have two possible new members! Isn't that great? You can never have enough back-up singers, Ian. Did you know that when Vocal Adrenaline started out—"
"Rachel," Ian said, trying to bring her back down to earth. "I get it."
"Oh, well," Rachel cleared her throat and brushed her thighs down. "Just thought you'd like to know. I don't know who they are, but it's a promising start to the new year! See you later, Ian!"
Ian watched her as she disappeared down the hall, head held high. Maybe Rachel didn't know who the possible new members of New Directions were, but Ian was definitely aware of the identity of one of them.
It was the first school day of the new year and Mickey already felt sick. Iggy, Karofsky and Azimio were standing by Mickey's locker. A minute later, one of the other guys, Greg, arrived, a cup holder in his hand. In the cup holder, were four red cups, overflowing with slushies of different colours and flavours. Greg held a fifth cup in his other hand.
Mickey watched as Iggy, Azimio and Karofsky laughed and leaned across to pull a cup from the holder each. Iggy turned to Mickey and his eyes seemed to be urging him to take one, too. Mickey sighed silently, then reached across and took the last cup, the one filled with red, flavoured ice.
"Let's go," Iggy grinned.
They began walking down the hall towards Rachel Berry's locker. Azimio had overheard Sam Evans saying that Rachel had called a glee club meeting at 8.45 by her locker. Mickey hadn't gotten a text, except for the one from Ian who had asked if he was going. Mickey hadn't texted back. He was going all right, but he wasn't going for the same reasons the others were, even if he wished he was.
He saw them, then, all standing there in a large circle, laughing and chatting away. The part that surprised and amused Mickey the most was that they were all dressed in raincoats that came to their ankles, all in different colours and styles. They all had their hoods up, covering their heads. Mickey grinned. This had been Ian's idea, he was sure of it.
His heart managed to skip a beat when he laid eyes on Ian for the first time since before Christmas. He looked as perfect as always, his hair inside the hood styled as it usually was, his pale skin smooth and unflawed. His upturned lips were still that same candy pink and his eyes—God, those eyes—were still that crazy, cyan blue. As he went closer, Mickey could see the various colours mingled in the centre.
Ian looked at him and the others turned to look at him, Iggy, Azimio, Karofsky and Greg, too. There faces were stern and confident and Mickey couldn't resist the small smile that was dancing on the corners of his lips.
"Happy new year, gay club!" Iggy shouted and he threw the contents of his cup in their direction. His slushie attacked Rachel's coat and dripped down the smooth material easily. Some of it landed on Brittany, who simply reached up to run her finger through it, before proceeding to lick it off. Karofsky followed Iggy's lead, his slushie ending up over Sam and Finn, the splashes from it colliding with Artie. Azimio's hit Tina, Mike and Mercedes and Greg's hit Rory and Santana and some of it landed on Ian's protected arm.
The glee club's eyes went to Mickey, then. The others were walking on, laughing and high-fiving one another. Mickey looked at the glee club's expectant faces, then down at the cup in his hand. The ice was floating at the top and looking freezing cold. He raised it up and emptied it on the floor, before walking on, leaving them standing there with their mouths hanging open. Mickey heard them talking as he walked away.
"Did Mickey Milkovich just...?"
"I can't believe he did that."
"I think we imagined it. Mickey Milkovich would not pass up a chance to slushie us."
"Yet, there lies his strawberry slushie."
"But why would he do that?"
"Maybe he's not so bad after all."
"Hey."
Ian looked up from his locker and saw Mickey coming towards him, looking as gorgeous as ever. His hair was gelled back, his eyes were shining and golden and as pretty as ever and he was smiling, too. Ian looked behind him, then back at Mickey.
"Um, why are you talking to me in public?"
Mickey looked confused for a moment, then waved an arm.
"We're still English partners, people won't twig anything," Mickey told him.
"Okay," Ian said, slowly. "In that case, hey back at you."
Mickey's smile grew and he leaned against the locker two up from Ian's.
"That stunt with the raincoats this morning?" Mickey said, almost excitedly. "Genius."
"Some of my best work, if I do say so myself," Ian said, grinning.
Mickey laughed and it made his eyes light up. They looked like burning embers, all oranges and browns. Ian allowed his eyes to drink him in. He looked down at his grey shirt under his letterman jacket. It was tight enough that it defined his chest. Ian shuddered a little as he remembered what he looked like without it. His jeans were also well-defining. Ian had to look away when he thought about what Mickey looked like without those, his cheeks burning up almost instantly.
"I think everyone is very surprised after the stunt you pulled this morning," Ian told him. "I was impressed, I must say."
He had felt a strange sense of proudness after Mickey had emptied that slushie over the tiles and not over anyone's head. He helped him reach this point, Mickey was finding himself more and more every single day.
"Yeah," Mickey looked a little uncomfortable, his bright eyes dropping to the ground, his feet shifting.
Ian smiled affectionately at how adorable Mickey looked when he was feeling shy, or ill at ease. He decided to change the subject, however, because Mickey seemed to be struggling to find a reply.
"So, is Quinn still joining glee?"
Mickey's face fell and he looked tired again. "I haven't seen her yet, today. I'm hoping not."
"Rachel says that Mr Schue told her we may have two new members. I'm assuming she is one of them."
Mickey sighed, sounding frustrated. "Great," he said, not without sarcasm. "She's been going on and on at me because her dad got her the same perfume that I got her for Christmas. I've been avoiding her like the plague. That's a conversation I do not want to have."
Ian laughed a little. "You got your girlfriend of two years perfume for Christmas?" Ian asked with some amusement. "Isn't there some sort of relationship rule that says it should be, like, I don't know, jewellery, or something?"
Mickey grimaced and shook his head. "I'm shocked she's not demanding I propose by now, or something."
Ian frowned a bit at the idea of Mickey and Quinn being engaged—or worse—married.
"I would have totally gotten you something, by the way," Mickey said, quickly, his eyes finding Ian's. "But I literally had no idea what to get. It was hard enough to come up with something for your birthday.."
Mickey trailed off and Ian saw his eyes dropping to Ian's hands. Ian lifted his sleeve a little, to show him he was still wearing the bracelet. Mickey's smile returned then and his eyes raised to meet Ian's again.
"Um," Mickey said. "And I didn't know if you even celebrated it so.."
"It's okay," Ian said. "I didn't get you anything , either, so we're even."
Mickey nodded, looking relieved.
"Actually, we're not even, are we?" Ian said, thoughtfully. "When's your birthday, anyway?"
Mickey straightened up a little bit. "Actually, what a coincidence. Next week. The 19th," Mickey told him. "My parents insist on me having a party, because 'it wouldn't be fair if I didn't', whatever that means. So, like.." Mickey trailed off and fought for words. "Will you come?"
"To your party," Ian said, slowly. "Where it will be all those popular kids and me."
"Actually," Mickey stated. "I was thinking the glee club could come."
Ian gaped at Mickey. He really, really never ceased to amaze him.
"Is this—is this some kind of trap?"
Mickey's eyebrows furrowed and his eyes filled with hurt. "You still think I'd do that to you?" he asked in a whisper.
Ian sighed and shook his head. "Guess not. Though I don't know what they tell you to do, do I?"
"I'd tell you if it was," Mickey said. "Seriously, I'm supposed to invite my friends. That's what my mom said. 'Tell all your friends to come, honey!'," Mickey imitated. Ian smiled at his awful impersonation of a female voice. "So, if I'm supposed to tell all my friends to come, you should definitely be there, right?"
Ian tilted his head sideways and glowered. "Because we're friends?" he said, quietly.
Mickey's eyes narrowed in confusion, then it seemed to dawn on him.
"Oh," he said. "Oh, I didn't—Ian. I know we're sort of—well. More than just, you know, friends." It was easy to see he was struggling with this statement, but Ian let him go on, because he needed to know if Mickey really only thought of him as a friend, when for Ian, Mickey was so much more than just that. "I mean, we—we're—well. It's more than that. It is. I know it is. But you're my friend, too, right? I mean, just because we're..."
Ian watched as Mickey searched hard for the right words. Ian's heart was beating quickly as he mentally urged Mickey to go on, to just tell him what he saw their entire relationship as.
"Just because we're in this—this relationship," Mickey said and Ian could deal with that. Relationship was good. He had been expecting him to say 'doing stuff', or 'having sex', or something equally as awful. At least 'relationship' implied feelings. "It doesn't mean we're not friends, too. I promise you it's more than that, though. I just.. I don't know how to say it without feeling like an asshole."
Ian smiled and Mickey's expression changed to one of relief.
"You'll come?"
"Yeah, I'll come," Ian told him. "But do you really want me to invite the glee club, or were you just saying that?"
"No," Mickey said. "I meant it and actually, I'll even invite them myself. Impressed?" Mickey smirked, one eyebrow raising.
"Very," Ian said, smirking back.
"Mickey!" a voice said, behind Ian. "There you are!"
Ian knew it was Quinn before he turned around. He couldn't resist rolling his eyes. Quinn walked up, wearing her Cheerios uniform and leaned across to kiss Mickey. Her eyes were on Ian as she did and Ian looked away.
"Quinn, what are you—Quinn!" Mickey said, sounding strangled. He took a step back. "We're in the middle of the school halls, are you nuts?"
Quinn simply laughed and then turned to look at Ian. She looked him from head to toe and then back up again, then turned her gaze back on Mickey.
"What are you doing talking to him?" she asked, as if Ian wasn't even there.
"Quinn, stop," Mickey sighed. "We're partnered for English, remember? We were discussing our next assignment."
Quinn looked sceptical. "Which is what?"
Ian cut in, locking his eyes with Quinn's. "It's on Rochester's crazy wife. The one he kept locked in the attic. The assignment is based around how he managed to find and fall in love with Jane, even though he already had a wife."
Ian saw Mickey's hazel eyes flash with amusement, as he tried to stifle a smile. Quinn narrowed her eyes at Ian, then turned back to look at Mickey, her high pony swinging around behind her.
"You shouldn't be seen with him, you know," she told him. "It's bad enough that people were thinking it, they don't need to see you talking with him, too!"
"We're just friends—"
"Friends?" Quinn exploded and Ian couldn't deny that his mind had screamed the exact same thing. Since when was Mickey admitting that in public?
Mickey looked panicked for a split second, then he shook his head, calmly. "Why do you make a big deal out of everything?" he sighed. "And you're totally talking about him as if he's not standing there."
Ian raised an eyebrow at that. Mickey wasn't completely degrading him around his friends—well, his girlfriend, anyway—any more. This was a good sign, a step in the right direction.
"Oh, I'm sorry, what would you like me to do?" Quinn shot back. "Do you want me to do what you're doing? Do you want me to sleep with him? Would that make it all right?"
Ian's eyes widened and Mickey's mouth hung open. They both spoke at the same time.
"I'm not—"
"We're not—"
"Yeah, Mickey, I know that," Quinn said. "But you see all of these people?" She gestured around at the other students walking up and down the halls. "They won't think that. Karofsky has already spread these rumours, seeing you with him will only clarify them."
Mickey opened his mouth to protest, but Quinn had turned away from him. She scowled at Ian, her eyes darkening.
"You need to stay away from my boyfriend," she stated. "I'm serious. He is not gay! So, you need to stop making eyes at him and kissy faces and trying to get into his pants!"
"Quinn!" Mickey interjected, but she kept going.
"I am seriously warning you... Actually, I don't even know your name—In fact, I don't even want to know your name! I just need you to keep your eyes off my boyfriend, okay? You're making him look bad!"
"Don't you mean it's making you look bad?" Ian asked, never dropping his eyes from Quinn's. Quinn looked up at him, questioningly. "I mean, that is what you meant, right? That Mickey doing these out of character things makes you look bad? Isn't that your main worry, Quinn?"
"You don't even know me, faggo—"
"Okay," Mickey interrupted. "Okay, no name calling. Can we just drop this now?"
"Actually, Quinn, I don't have to know you to know what you're like," Ian said, ignoring Mickey. "I've seen a million girls exactly like you. All you care about is being popular and everything else—and everyone else—can go to hell, just so long as people go on thinking you're perfect, that you have it all, but do you know what, Quinn? I can see past that and if I can see past that, I'm sure a lot of others can, too. So, yes, you can call me a faggot, that's cool, it's nice that you express your homophobia for all to hear, even though you're supposed to be the perfect girl, but I want you to do something, okay?"
"Ian, I don't—"
"I want you to go home and open up your computer," Ian went on as if Mickey hadn't spoken. "Go on Google, because I doubt you actually know how to use a dictionary, let alone own one, I want you to type 'faggot definition' into the search bar. And just in case you don't do it, I'll tell you what you would get. Google will tell you that faggot is a male homosexual. It will also tell you it's offensive. But see the thing is, Quinn, I actually am a male homosexual, but if I type in the word 'perfect' and look for a definition, it will give me something like 'unflawed', or 'as good as it is possible to be', but you're neither of those, are you? No, because none of us are perfect and the sooner you accept that, the sooner you'll be able to actually be happy in your life.
"Right now, you're desperate, I can see that. You're desperate to be perceived as this perfect, unflawed girl and you'll do anything to make that happen, which is kind of scary, isn't it? That you'll go to any lengths to achieve that? Even if it means your boyfriend is going to be miserable in the process. I know what it's like to want something so bad that you're willing to do anything," Ian said, with a glance at Mickey. "But there has to be a line you stop at, a line you just don't cross. Otherwise, you'll do something that you'll never be able to go back on and that's when you'll be sorry."
Both Quinn and Mickey were staring at him with their eyes wide and their lips apart. Ian hoped Mickey would take that in, too, that he would think about it again later.
"What about him?" Quinn asked, pointing at Mickey behind her. "Do you have some kind of—of crazy, made-up theory about him, too?"
Ian looked at Mickey and frowned a little. "He knows exactly what he needs to do," Ian said, locking his eyes with Mickey's, which were filled with surprise and shock. "But unlike you, Quinn, he's working at it."
Quinn scowled back at Mickey, who just continued to look at Ian. She looked back at Ian when she saw Mickey wasn't going to say anything.
"Stay away from my boyfriend!"
"Well, maybe if your boyfriend didn't keep..." Ian trailed off, because Mickey's eyes widened further and he got this look of sheer panic on his face and Ian had to ground himself, because telling Quinn about himself and Mickey would be wrong on so many levels. For one, it wasn't his place. Secondly, Mickey wasn't ready for that and as much as Quinn annoyed Ian, as much as he felt like screaming at her that she knew nothing about Mickey, he couldn't do that to him. "Oh, it doesn't matter! See you in English, Mickey." Ian slammed his locker shut with a loud crash and Mickey flinched.
Ian began to walk away, but he turned back and looked at Quinn, feeling the need to get one last stab in. It was petty and childish, but he couldn't bring himself to be mature right now. "By the way, Quinn," he began. "Your roots are showing."
He smiled, taking pleasure in Quinn's appalled expression, then turned around and continued on down the hall.
Ian Gallagher-1, Quinn Fabray-0.
"Your girlfriend's a bitch."
"I am aware," Mickey said into his phone. "I'm sorry about everything she said to you."
"Not your fault," Ian told him.
Mickey sighed and closed his book, then stood up and walked towards his bed. He lay down and switched the phone to his other ear.
"Everything you said to her was pretty accurate," he said. Mickey couldn't help thinking about what Ian had said to Quinn. Quinn would go to any lengths to achieve the ultimate popularity status. She was pretty ruthless and a bit crazy.
"I know," Ian responded. "Glee club tomorrow should be interesting."
Mickey groaned. He really didn't want Quinn to join glee. It was the one place he could actually enjoy himself without having to worry about her being intent on watching his every move.
"I wish there was a way of convincing her not to join," he sighed.
"Well, I guess you could tell her you're having sex with me, because I think that would probably make her change her mind," Ian said and Mickey could hear the amusement in his voice. "But of course, that's not an option."
Mickey wished it was. Earlier that day he had wanted to tell her that, especially when she had talked down to Ian. When Ian had almost told her, Mickey chickened out, as he so often did in dire situations.
"Praying she can't sing," Mickey muttered.
"I didn't know you believed in God," Ian said.
"Being with Quinn, you have to believe in something," Mickey informed him. "Otherwise, you would probably go nuts."
"Good point."
"So, when can we see each other?" Mickey asked, boldly. He didn't care. All he could think about was kissing Ian, holding Ian, being with Ian. He needed to know.
"We saw each other in school about six hours ago," Ian said and Mickey could hear him smiling knowingly.
"You know what I mean," Mickey urged.
"I do," Ian chuckled. "Whenever you're free, I guess."
"As if I will ever be completely free," Mickey sighed again, realising it was true. He would never be truly free. He guessed he could be, but there were so many consequences and quid pro quos that he couldn't even consider it.
"Some day, Mickey," Ian said and Mickey could hear the smile in his voice. "Some day you will be, but I thought we were talking about sex. How did the topic change to something so intense and profound?"
Mickey spluttered a little bit.
"Are you insinuating that sex with me is not intense and profound?"
"Not in the least," Ian apprised him, instantly.
"Good," Mickey said. "Because I plan on having lots of it."
"Did Quinn Fabray and Noah Iggyerman really just sing Islands in the Stream?" Mercedes said, looking as dazed as Ian felt.
"Yes," Ian said, then turned to look at Mickey behind him. "You really need to reconsider the people you call your friends, Mickey."
"Stop talking, I'm trying to process what just happened."
Ian turned away because he knew how he felt. It had been the single, most awkward performance Ian had ever witnessed. Quinn and Iggy had walked in, grinning. Iggy had his guitar and people started to object to them being in the club, but Mr Schue said they deserved a chance and so, they had auditioned with Islands in the Stream and Quinn Fabray and Noah Iggyerman were no Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers. They were both mildly talented, Iggy a little more than Quinn, but maybe Ian was biased, but it had been strange and really, really awkward to watch.
Nobody had clapped afterwards, not even Mr Schuester. He had said it was a good song, but beyond that he looked as dazed and confused as everyone else. The part that made it as crazy as it was, was that this was Quinn and Iggy, two of the most popular kids at school, besides Mickey. The entire thing had been so far out there, it needed foreign travel vaccines.
Iggy and Quinn had left early, because nobody had really treated them with any kindness, but they said they'd be back for the next session.
"I don't think we should let them join," Rachel stated and for once, Ian had to agree with her. "While they can sing a little, they're both far too used to being in the limelight to be willing to step back."
"Milkovich seems to be doing fine," Santana pointed out.
"Why would Iggy join glee?" Mickey whispered behind Ian. He appeared to be speaking mostly to himself so Ian ignored him.
"Rachel, everyone who auditions gets in, remember?" Mr Schue said. "Now next time, we're going to be more welcoming, even if that was a little weird."
"That's a major understatement," Mercedes laughed.
Ian agreed. "Understatement of the century."
"Um, okay," Mr Schue said, then. "I think we're done for today. See you all on Thursday."
Ian stood up and got his things and headed for the door. Everyone headed for the exit doors and then went in separate directions. Mickey followed Ian to his car.
"What are you—"
"You remember last night when I said I planned on us having lots and lots of sex?"
Ian took a step back, stunned. It was one thing for Mickey to say it over the phone, but in person was a whole other story.
"Um, vaguely," he lied.
"Well, that starts now, if it's all right with you," Mickey told him. "I never want to hear Islands in the Stream ever again for the rest of my existence," he muttered. "There's no one at my house, my parents went to visit my uncle this morning. You up for it?"
"You just want to sleep with me because you want me to take your mind off the fact that your girlfriend is a psychopath and your best friend is a douche?" Ian enquired.
Mickey blinked a couple of times, those long dark lashes fluttering lightly.
"No," he said, matter-of-factly. "I want to sleep with you because it's been twenty one days since we last did it and your pants are really tight and I'm a teenage boy with carnal urges and you look really good today. Like, so good."
Ian was a little taken aback by Mickey's sudden blunt manner, but he didn't deem it unwelcome. He smiled, then, mischievously.
"I don't think I feel like it," Ian told him. "My mind is permanently scarred from the performance I just witnessed."
"Oh, get in the car, Gallagher," Mickey said, smiling a little.
"Mickey!" Quinn said, following him across the school parking lot. Mickey couldn't look at her without flashbacks of that awful rendition of Islands in the Stream flooding his mind. "Mickey, we need to talk!"
Mickey slowed down and waited for her to catch up. When she did, she reached out and clutched his arm.
"I mean, we need to talk, like, privately."
"Look, Quinn, if this is about me not clapping after your glee audition, I had good reason. In my defense, that audition sucke—"
"Mickey," she said, gravely, looking up at him with worrying eyes. "I'm pregnant."
Mickey felt as if he was falling. His knees felt weak and he felt light-headed, as if he might hit the ground. It was as if every one of his worst nightmares were coming true simultaneously.
"You—you're sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure!" she snapped.
Mickey shook his head. "You couldn't—we were careful, we—"
"Mickey, stop babbling," Quinn sighed, with frustration. "I'm like 110% sure. We're having a baby."
Mickey stared at her, his skin felt cold and his heart was doing somersaults in his chest. He couldn't have a baby with Quinn. They didn't even like each other. This was the worst day of his life, it was official.
"Oh, you know what, Mickey?" Quinn said, angrily. "If you're just going to stand there looking like a lost dog, I'm just going to go to class and you can find me later."
"Okay," he said, simply.
Quinn grunted her displeasure and stormed off into the building. Mickey stood there in a daze for at least five minutes, then walked quickly into the school, body shaking violently. He was experiencing so many feelings now that he couldn't put a name to, but they were all bad, every one of them. There was only one thing he could thing to do that would help him get his head together.
He had to find Ian.