Chapter 22:
Something pressed down over his body and a dull pain shot across his ribs and he woke with a start and a small groan. He felt the mattress shifting beneath him and the covers shuffled next to him and then a shadow was looming over him and he blinked his eyes open.
"I'm sorry," a shaky voice said. "Damn. Are you okay?"
Ian looked up at Mickey's concerned expression and smiled a little. "I'm fine," he told him. "You just surprised me, that's all."
Mickey nodded and his dark curls bobbed a bit. He settled back down and fell onto his side. He propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at Ian, face still a mask of worry. Ian lay there breathing as the pain decreased across his stomach.
"Can I..?" Mickey gestured towards Ian's stomach and Ian gave him a confused look, unsure of what he was asking, then he nodded, mostly because he was curious.
Ian watched as Mickey reached up and gently tugged the covers down, until his entire upper body was on show. Ian shivered, even though it wasn't cold. It was just that Mickey was blinking those long, dark lashes, as his copper gaze roved over his pale chest and all Ian could do was stare back at him, trying to read what he was thinking.
"Don't.." Ian gasped, quietly, when Mickey's right hand raised up and moved towards him.
"I wouldn't hurt you," Mickey told him, softly. "At least, not intentionally."
Ian frowned, because Mickey was still beating himself up over everything that had occurred between them. He wanted to tell him it was okay, that he should forget about it, and he almost did, but he stopped himself, because what had happened wasn't okay and he shouldn't forget about it, at least not just yet. Mickey needed to remind himself of who he was and who he had once been and those memories were what would show him who he wasn't supposed to be.
Mickey's cool finger tips brushed slowly across Ian's ribs and Ian held his breath. He was docile, gentle, his fingers tracing over the ugly, pinkish-purplish, blotchy bruises. Ian let out his breath with a quiet whimper when Mickey's fingers moved over his nipple and Mickey whispered a low 'sorry'. Ian wanted to tell him not to apologise, that it hadn't been a bad whimper, but he didn't say anything, because he wasn't sure Mickey was apologising for just that.
Ian blinked up at Mickey, who still had his eyes locked on Ian's blemished torso. He had moved his hand and it was now lightly stroking Ian's upper arm. Ian shivered and felt goose bumps raising on his arms. He hoped Mickey would just think it was as a result of the cool air.
"I just want to take your pain away," Mickey told him, eyes finding Ian's.
"Oh, I'll be okay," Ian told him with a small smile.
"I know, you will," Mickey said. "But I wish we could go back, make sure none of the hurt ever happened."
Ian eyed him for a minute. "Are we still talking about the bruising?" Mickey shrugged one shoulder, the right one, and sighed, tiredly. Ian changed the subject then, because Mickey looked pained, his eyes sad. "So, today is the day."
Mickey nodded. "Yep," he affirmed. "I just want it over and done with."
"Think she'll cry?"
"No," Mickey chuckled. "No, she might hit me, though."
Ian laughed then and it hurt, really hurt. He realised then that his entire body was aching, particularly his ass, because of obvious reasons. He grabbed his stomach and made a noise that sounded like an animal in pain and Mickey sat up a little, looking worried.
"Relax," Ian choked out. "It's okay, it's just—If we're going to do this, you need to do me a favour."
"Anything," Mickey supplied.
"Buy a God damned bottle of lube."
Mickey's body covered one side of Ian's body and he didn't seem to be in a lot of pain any more. Mickey kissed him, slowly and carefully, because he didn't want to hurt him any more than he already had. His bruises looked severe and angry and made Mickey want to hurt Kenny some more. Then he forgot about Kenny, because Ian's tongue was slipping through his teeth and his hands were tracing patterns across his back.
"Hmmph."
"What?" Mickey breathed into Ian's mouth. "Did I—did I hurt you?"
"No," Ian said, flicking his tongue over his top lip. Mickey shuddered. "It's just—we should probably go."
"We should," Mickey smiled and pressed his mouth down over Ian's again. Ian sighed against his lips, giving in.
They stayed like that, just exploring each other's mouths, until a creaking noise sounded behind Mickey. He rolled sideways and Ian thrashed about a little and in a frantic shuffle, the covers landed over his face and he groaned after having moved too quickly. Mickey's heart was thumping loudly as he looked towards the door, ready to see his mom there.
Except his mom was not the person standing there.
"Oh my God," Quinn shouted. "You're cheating on me?"
Mickey opened his mouth to speak, but Quinn had moved closer and then she was tugging the covers off of the bed.
"You're cheating on me with a boy?" she exclaimed, as Ian moved to cover his now exposed lower half. Ian made a little hissing sound because he had bent his upper body before he could stop himself.
"Jesus, Qui—"
"Oh my God!" she shrieked. "You're cheating on me with a boy from glee club?"
Mickey raised an eyebrow, because apparently, Quinn still didn't know Ian's name. She pulled the covers all the way off and Ian's body jerked and he closed his eyes in pain.
"Quinn, what the fuck?" Mickey said, pushing himself up onto his knees. He grabbed the cover back and covered himself, then threw one side across Ian's legs, covering him, too. "Will you stop that? It's not like he's not already bruised all over—"
"Holy shit!" Quinn exhaled, dark green eyes wide and locked on Ian's chest. "What is this? Are you guys into really rough, painful sex, or something? Oh my God, Mickey—"
"Quinn," Mickey said, firmly. "No, no. He got in a car accident, remember?"
She gave him a blank stare that lasted for about ten seconds, then her eyes widened again. "I cannot believe you're doing this to me! You're having sex with a guy, Mickey! That's disgusting! I can't—I can't even look at you right now, oh my God."
Ian was still doubled over and Mickey looked at him. "Are you—"
"Fine, just fine," he panted.
Mickey wasn't convinced, but he didn't get a chance to ask about it, because Quinn was flinging things across the room. He stared at her for a minute and then Ian looked up.
"Um, Quinn," Ian said, then. "I don't like you, but, um, you're pregnant, so I think you should probably, like, not do, um, that."
"Yes!" Quinn shrieked. "I'm pregnant! And you're sleeping with my baby's father, you fag—"
"Quinn!" Mickey said and he stood up and shuffled into his underwear. "Quinn, just—stop, okay? Stop and just—just leave."
Quinn stopped flinging things and looked at Mickey, her eyes livid. She pointed a manicured finger nail at him and said, "I can't believe you would do this to me! You're having sex with a boy!" Mickey wondered if she thought he was not aware of Ian's gender. "So, how long, Mickey? How long have you been fucking a boy? Is this why we haven't had sex in seven months, Mickey? Because you'd rather have a di—"
"Quinn," Mickey said, tiredly.
She stared at him for a second, then gave Ian a dirty look, before turning around and walking out, slamming the door behind her. Mickey stared after her for a few moments, then turned back to look at Ian.
"Are you all right?"
"Yes."
"Well," Mickey exhaled. "Guess I don't have to do the dumping any more." He gave Ian a small smile.
"Yeah," Ian nodded, not smiling. "Except now everyone and their mother will know."
Mickey hadn't thought of that. His heart stilled for a split second, then he let out a long breath. "Right," he nodded. "Yeah, I—I guess, I'll be okay. I mean, I'll—yeah. It'll be okay." He nodded again and smiled, timidly.
Ian smiled, then. "You shouldn't have to do this against your will, but if you're confident about that, you'll get through it. Don't let them get to you and.." Ian trailed off and his smile disappeared. He whispered something that Mickey couldn't hear, his azure eyes wide and staring into space.
"What?" Mickey asked, worried he was hurt. "What is it?"
"Mickey," Ian breathed, slowly. "I'm not putting words in your mouth here, but how long ago is it since you and Quinn had sex?"
Mickey eyed him, curiously. "Um, June.. Yeah, seven months, give or take a few days." He shrugged, unsure of what Ian was getting at.
"Right," Ian nodded, quickly. "And how far along is Quinn now?"
Mickey tried to remember. "Um," he said. "It must be, like, ten weeks now, right?"
"Okay," Ian said. "Okay, so I want you to think about that. Like really hard."
Mickey furrowed his eyebrows and looked at Ian, who was watching him with anticipation. He thought about it again.
"No," Mickey shrugged. "What are you getting at?"
Ian sighed and it appeared to hurt, so he grunted a little, then looked at Mickey again. "Okay, so I know you've had a lot to deal with and you haven't been thinking straight, but if Quinn is ten weeks pregnant, which is, like, two and a half months?" Mickey nodded, following. "And you haven't slept with her in seven months then—"
"Then the baby can't be mine," Mickey said, incredulously. He felt something catching in his throat and then he was smiling and throwing himself on top of Ian, who cried out. "Shit, sorry, I forgot, but OH MY GOD, Ian."
"Glad I could help," he croaked.
"Mm," Mickey said, kissing him once. "I love you," he told him and kissed him again. "I just—I just fucking love you, come here."
And he kissed him again and Ian smiled against his lips and Mickey felt another weight lifting. There was still more, so much more, but God, this made things a lot easier.
"God," Mickey whispered into Ian's mouth. "I—I love you."
"Where are you going?" Ian exclaimed when Mickey drove his car out of the driveway and turned left instead of right. "School is that way," he pointed out, gesturing to the right.
"I know where school is," Mickey smiled. "I'm taking you home."
Ian blinked a few times as Mickey drove down the long, winding road. "Um, so I can change?"
"No," Mickey told him. "So you can go home and like, not move."
Ian shot him an accusing glare. "I am not staying home today," he declared.
"Why must you be so difficult?" Mickey sighed.
Ian remembered what it had been like when he had come out. He remembered the stares and the sneering and the snide remarks. He remembered being shoved against lockers and laughed at and being called an array of names. He remembered feeling ashamed—not because he was gay, but because he was the centre of attention and for all the wrong reasons. He remembered wishing he had someone, anyone, who would be there to help him through it, who would provide him with some support, no matter how small. He remembered not wanting to go through it alone.
"You're not going to want to go through this alone," Ian apprised him. "Trust me."
Mickey opened his mouth, then closed it again. He was quiet for a while, then said, "Do you have your books at school?"
Ian nodded. "In my locker."
They were silent as they continued on down the long road, then Mickey made a turn and reversed the car, then went back in the opposite direction. Ian smiled to himself.
"Will your dad find out?" Ian asked, after a while.
Mickey exhaled shakily. "I—yeah. Probably. He's sort of friends with the parents of, like, half the football team and the Cheerios."
Ian bit his bottom lip, then, because he couldn't help thinking about what Mickey's dad would do once he did find out. He shuddered, because he had done what he had just because Mickey had skipped football game, he didn't even want to think about how he would react to this news.
"Mickey.."
"Don't," Mickey said, quietly.
Ian didn't.
They arrived in the school parking lot a few minutes later and Mickey parked his car and pulled the keys out of the ignition and the car went dead. They were silent, again, for a few heartbeats, then Mickey turned to look at Ian. He let out a long breath.
"You didn't have to come here today."
"Yes," Ian told him. "I did."
"You had no one.."
"Nope."
"I'm sorry," Mickey said, solemnly.
"It's okay," Ian shrugged, slightly.
They both went quiet again and then Mickey reached across and placed a warm hand over Ian's. Ian raised his eyes to Mickey's and he looked terrified, his hazel eyes wide and filled with worry.
"You'll survive, you know," Ian told him.
"I know."
Mickey dropped his eyes again and took a few deep breaths. Ian watched him,their hands still touching. Then Mickey looked up again.
"Thank you."
"For what?" Ian asked, tilting his head sideways.
"Everything."
Nobody batted an eyelid.
Mickey's ears were buzzing and the world was a clouded mess and he was prepared for the worst, but it never came. He and Ian walked down the halls in an eerie silence, because it didn't make sense that no one would say a word.
"I don't get it," Mickey muttered, glancing at Ian out of the corner of his eye.
"Maybe she's not here yet," Ian suggested.
"No," Mickey shook his head. "Last year whenever anything happened, she passed around a chain message, then had Lip print it in the school newspaper. She wouldn't waste any time."
"Well, then," Ian said. "I have no idea what's going on."
Mickey shrugged and they kept walking until they reached the corridor where their lockers were lined.
Ian paused at his locker and Mickey stopped, too and watched as he fumbled with the combination. Mickey stared for a few seconds, then reached over and twisted it open for him.
"Are you ever going to get the hang of that?" he teased, but his heart wasn't in it.
"Apparently not," Ian told him, as he reached inside his locker and chose the books he needed for the morning. "Luckily, I have you to do it for me," he smirked.
"True," Mickey smiled. "What do—"
"Mickey!"
Mickey swung around and saw Quinn coming towards him, grinning. She was walking with another Cheerio, Mickey didn't remember her name. He and Ian stared at her, open-mouthed, as she walked up to Mickey and leaned across and placed a small kiss on his cheek.
"Quinn, what are y—"
"I missed you," she said, sweetly. "I'll see you later, okay?"
Mickey couldn't form a complete sentence. He watched as she continued on down the hall. He came back to earth at the sound of Ian slamming his locker shut. He turned back to look at him and Ian shook his head.
"What just happened?" Mickey breathed.
"I," Ian told him. "Have no idea."
Mickey felt his pocket vibrating, then and he reached inside to pull out his phone.
1 NEW MESSAGE FROM: QUINN.
We need to talk. Meet me at 4.30 at the Lima Bean. Bring your stupid boyfriend.
Mickey didn't think there was much to talk about, but he wanted to know what was going on. He handed the phone to Ian. He read the message, then smiled crookedly.
"Boyfriend, huh?"
Mickey's face tilted pink and he stammered over his words. "I—um, that—I just—we—uh.."
Ian raised a thin eyebrow and smiled. Mickey tried to retain his composure. Boyfriend, though. It was strange to think of things in those terms. He had never had a boyfriend, obviously. He had only ever been the boyfriend. The thing was that Ian sort of was his boyfriend, in every sense of the word and eventually, Mickey was going to have to get used to that.
"Yeah he said, finally. "Yeah, boyfriend."
He watched the surprise light up Ian's face, his mouth parting as if he might speak, but he didn't. His eyes widened, all blue and sparkling and then he smiled and took a step closer.
"Well, then," he began. "I'll see you later, boyfriend."
Ian gave Mickey's arm a small pat, before walking on down the hall, leaving Mickey staring after him. Mickey smiled when he saw how slowly Ian was walking. He wondered if he was more hurt from the injuries he had gained from the car crash, or from what they had done the night before. He was probably regretting having worn those skin tight pants now, but God, they looked good.
Mickey watched as Ian stopped to talk to Mercedes. He was smiling and saying something and his eyes were bright and he was blinking in that pretty way that Mickey found so enchanting, even if it was still a creepy thing to notice. Mickey saw Azimio walk by Ian and he said something to him, something Mickey couldn't hear. Ian rolled his blue eyes and shot back with what was probably a snarky reply. Azimio scowled and walked on. Mickey loved how Ian was, how he was so confident in himself and behaved as if nothing phased him.
Yes, he was proud to have Ian Gallagher as his boyfriend.
"I know."
Mickey looked up as Kenny slipped into the seat next to him. Mickey wanted to get up and go sit somewhere else, because Kenny infuriated him, especially when he thought about Ian's bruises and sprained wrist.
"You know what?" Mickey spat out.
"I know," Kenny repeated. "That you are sleeping with Gallagher."
Mickey sighed. He wasn't sure if he should deny it or not, because for one, he was scared, scared of the consequences, scared of everything, on the other hand, he was so damned tired, he just didn't want to care any more.
"I thought we were over that rumour," he said anyway.
"No, no," Kenny grinned, slouching back in his chair. "I had a little chat with one Dave Karofsky last night—well, it was more than a chat, actually." He smirked sideways at Mickey, who was staring at him with his mouth open. "But the thing with Dave Karofsky is that he's just trying to work himself out, you know? So, he'll take any chance to do that and when I sauntered in and gave him my best smile, he was all over me, if you know what I mean."
Mickey raised his eyebrows. "I don't want all the gory details, thanks, Kenny."
"Oh, but I think you do, Mickey," Kenny informed him. "See, Karofsky isn't looking for a relationship per se, and God only knows I'm certainly not, but," Kenny said, emphasising the word 'but'. "Like myself—hell, like all of us—David has a sex drive." Mickey spluttered a little, then grimaced, because this was Dave Karofsky they were talking about. Kenny ignored him and went on. "Therefore, he thinks that if he tells me stuff, that I'll continue sleeping with him and you know what, Mickey? Let him think that. If he's going to give me all the juicy gossip, then, yes, I'll let him think I'll sleep with him again. I'm not going to, obviously. I mean, it's not like it was the best night of my life, or anything—"
"Is there a point to all this?" Mickey cut in. "Because I just don't need the images you're providing me with, right now."
Kenny laughed then, cruel and high. "There's always a point, Milkovich," he told him. "So, David told me a little secret about you and Mr Ian Gallagher."
"Did he?" Mickey said, tiredly.
"He did and you can pretend all you want, I know it's true," Kenny said, confidently. "I put the pieces together, Milkovich. I figure if you weren't closer to Gallagher—and by closer I mean 'having sex with'—then there wouldn't really be any reason for you to come around and beat me up for what I did, would there?"
Mickey knew he was right. He couldn't really hide it any more. He sighed again and sat back.
"Okay," he nodded. "So what? What's your point?"
"My point," Kenny told him. "Is that you—Mr Alpha Male—have a girlfriend."
"No," Mickey apprised him. "I don't."
Which wasn't a lie. Regardless of what happened, Quinn was not his girlfriend any more, she never really had been in any real sense, anyway.
"Well, last time I checked, you did."
"Do you spend a lot of time checking up on me, Kenneth?" Mickey enquired.
Kenny glared at him. "Don't flatter yourself, Milkovich."
"So, what is this?" Mickey asked. "Some kind of sour grapes because you had to drug Ian to get his clothes off and all I had to do was give him a smile?"
Which wasn't true, exactly. He didn't remember much of what he had done to first get Ian to sleep with him. He remembered every time after that, though. These were the things he never wanted to forget.
"Not even close, Mickey," Kenny smiled again. "I'm just letting you know that I have something on you, that's all."
"You don't, not really," Mickey informed him. "If you want to tell people, go for it. I'm sick of people trying to blackmail me. I don't suppose Karofsky told you about the incident in the janitor's closet with Ian?"
Kenny stared at Mickey and it was clear that he had no idea what he was talking about.
"You should ask him about that," Mickey smiled, happily. "You might find that you guys are a lot more alike than you think."
Ian was on his way to glee and the halls were completely empty. He was early, so he could walk slowly, which he needed, because every part of him hurt. The only sound was the clip clop of his shoes against the tiles, echoing through the corridors. Then he heard noises from behind him. He turned and saw Mickey jogging towards him. Ian smiled.
"Are you running to mock me, Milkovich?"
"No, I just wanted to catch up with you," Mickey chuckled and stopped jogging and started walking instead.
Ian stopped to wait for him, then he felt himself being shoved roughly against the lockers. His stomach and ribs throbbed as he slipped down to the ground. He looked up and saw Karofsky laughing.
"I thought we had a deal," Mickey said, angrily.
"At no point did we say violence was put of the question," Karofsky made his excuse.
Ian stayed where he was, just breathing, but he wanted to stand up and drag Mickey away by the arm, because Karofsky wasn't worth it. Except he really could not move right now.
"Karofsky," Mickey said, sounding weary. "Remember how we were sort of blackmailing each other?"
Karofsky said nothing, he simply scowled at Mickey.
"The thing is, I don't care," Mickey said and Ian looked up at him. He knew he was terrified, but he also knew he was getting tired of keeping up the facade. He wasn't ready for what coming out entailed, so Ian really hoped he wouldn't push Karofsky to a point that would make him tell everyone about him.
"Mickey, I don't thi—" Ian tried, but Mickey cut him off.
"It's okay," he assured him, then looked back at Karofsky, soft expression hardening again. "Dave, I talked to Kenneth Iggyerman in history, today and do you know what he told me?"
Ian looked up at Mickey, wondering what he could possibly be getting at. Karofksy looked panicked, his mouth open, eyes wide with shock.
"He told me that you.. How did he put it? Oh, yeah. He helped you with your 'sex drive'."
"Oh my God," Ian whispered and Karofsky shot him a less than amused look, which he ignored.
"So, really, what you have on me," Mickey went on. "Is nothing compared to what I have on you."
Ian frowned, because Mickey was threatening to out him again and he wasn't sure if he was serious or not.
"And unless you want to end up on probation—or worse—like your boyfriend," Mickey laughed then. "Sorry, he's not really your boyfriend, though, is he? He's more of a fu—"
"Mickey," Ian said, warningly, but he smiled a little. Mickey smiled, too.
"Whatever he is," Mickey said. "He's on probation for drugging Ian and trying to have his way with him. If memory serves, you didn't drug him, but you did try to have your way with him, didn't you?"
"I didn't do anything like tha—"
Mickey spoke over Karofsky, who groaned.
"Maybe not," Mickey stated. "But it doesn't sound good, does it? Shoving a guy in a dark, empty closet and forcing yourself on him?"
Karofsky looked flustered, but he didn't say anything. Ian pushed himself to sit straight and Mickey frowned at him, probably for moving. Ian shrugged and pressed his back against the cool metal of the lockers.
"So, apologise to Ian for shoving him when he's already severely hurt from what Kenny did, which I'm sure you heard all the little details about," Mickey ordered. "Also, please refrain from doing that again."
Karofsky groaned and punched a locker, emitting a loud crash. Mickey simply smiled and they watched Karofsky storming off down the halls, cursing under his breath. Mickey walked closer to Ian and outstretched an arm.
"Come on, pretty boy," he sighed. Ian took his hand and allowed him to pull him gently to his feet. Mickey steadied him, eyes watching him warily. "You okay?"
"Fine," Ian told him.
Mickey was smiling at him, his copper-coloured eyes watching him intently.
"What?" Ian asked, finally.
"What am I going to do with you?" Mickey chuckled and Ian just continued to stare in confusion. "Is there a gay guy in town that doesn't want to get inside those tight, tight pants of yours?"
Ian scoffed a little and felt heat spreading up his neck and then up into his cheeks. Mickey raised an eyebrow, which only caused Ian to blush even more and then Mickey was laughing.
"Come on, gorgeous," Mickey said, absently and Ian's heart skipped a beat. He stood stuck to the spot and Mickey looked back at him, quizzically.
"Coming," Ian squeaked and followed him, but his head was still spinning and his heart was still racing and the butterflies in his stomach were still dancing, because Mickey Milkovich had called him gorgeous.
"Show time," Mickey uttered, when he saw Quinn pushing the glass door open and walking inside, her nose high in the air.
"Mickey," Ian said, beside him.
"Hmm?"
"Can you loosen your grip a little? You're cutting off my circulation."
Mickey looked down at their hands under the table. He was clinging to Ian like the world was trying to pull him away and he just couldn't let him go. He let go, then and gave Ian an apologetic look.
"Sorry."
Ian smiled and looked back up. Mickey followed his gaze and saw Quinn, who had now spotted them, scowling as she made her way towards them, slipping in and out of the occupied chairs and tables. When she reached them, she gave them her best 'I am superior to you and you are not fit to wipe my shoes' look, then pulled out the chair and sat down.
The three of them sat in silence for a long time, just listening to the sounds of cups clacking against each other and people laughing and talking around them. It was, Mickey had to admit, extremely awkward. Finally, he decided it was time to break the ice.
"So, what do you want?" he asked and both Ian and Quinn looked up quickly, as if they were surprised that he had spoken. "Why haven't you told anyone? What's your angle? And by the way, Quinn—"
"How many questions are you going to ask in one breath, Mickey?" Quinn asked, narrowing her eyes. "Which one would you like me to answer first?"
Mickey didn't flinch, because he was sick of this, sick of Quinn acting like she was better than everyone, sick of her treating everyone—including himself—like crap.
"How about you tell me whose baby you're having?"
Ian almost laughed, he was so close to just spluttering that he had to bite down hard on his lip to stop himself. It was her face that did it to him. He didn't like seeing others suffer, but she had been going on with such crap and she was looking down at everyone around her and then when Mickey asked her about the baby, her face just fell and she looked speechless.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she stammered.
"Yes," Mickey said. "You do. We figured it out. The last time was June, Quinn."
Quinn looked ready to protest, but she looked from Mickey to Ian and then back again and sighed, clearly frustrated.
"Fine," she groaned. "Fine. We're even. We're cheating on each other. Are you happy?"
"Do I get to know who?" Mickey asked.
"No."
"How about how long?"
"October," Quinn muttered.
Ian felt out of place, like he was eavesdropping on something he shouldn't have been. He sat in silence, staring down at the round table, feeling extremely awkward.
"October," Mickey repeated, thoughtfully. It seemed as if a light bulb went on over his head then, as his eyes widened and he leaned forward an inch. "Iggy! I remember him acting weird the next day. The night of his party, right?"
Quinn said nothing, she simply reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear, eyes darting around. Ian could tell that this meant Mickey was right.
"Do you want to know what the most ironic part of all this is?" he smiled. Quinn did not reply. "The ironic thing is that we started cheating on each other on the same night."
Ian looked up then, realising it was true. Mickey was sort of just sitting there by then and Quinn looked a little shell shocked, so Ian thought he would say something.
"Why haven't you told anyone?" he asked.
"I have nothing to say to you," she informed him, eyes never leaving her nails.
"Didn't you tell him to bring me?" Ian reminded her.
"That doesn't mean you have to speak!"
"Oh, what am I here for then?" Ian asked, smiling a little. ""Just to look pretty? Or—"
"Can we just get to the point of all this, Quinn?" Mickey asked, glancing at Ian. "Why didn't you tell anyone? And why did you bring us here?"
Quinn sat up straight and flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder. "We need each other," she said, looking at Mickey.
"Um, no," he told her. "We don't."
"Yes, we do!" she stressed. "I need to stay with the most popular guy at school. I need to win this stupid Valentine's princess and then prom queen! I need to put all of that on a college application. I need to get through this pregnancy without people staring because it's not yours! I need to hand it up for adoption and I need to get out of this place. Then you're free of me, you can go back to being gay, or whatever, I don't care. But I need you until then," she said and Ian saw the tears in her eyes. he heard the lump that was caught in her throat and he couldn't help feeling sorry for her. "And you," she went on. "You don't want people to know about him," she said, pointing at Ian. "You don't want them all to find out that Mickey Milkovich is a big, huge fake, who likes boys. And you most definitely do not want your daddy to know. So, I'm proposing a deal."
"A deal," Mickey repeated.
"Yes," she breathed. "You pretend to be my boyfriend. It'll be just like always, because it's always been pretending, hasn't it, Mickey?" She didn't give him a chance to reply, just kept talking. "Do this for me. You can still go on screwing whatever-his-name-is, we don't even have to talk, we just have to put on a show. Do that for me and I won't tell a soul about what I saw this morning."
"No—"
"Do it," Ian urged and Mickey looked at him like he was crazy, and so did Quinn.
"What?" Mickey asked, surprise laced in his voice.
"Yeah," Ian nodded. "Do it. Accept her offer."
Mickey stared at Ian for another few moments, then looked back to Quinn. "Can we just have a moment alone?"
Quinn sighed and stood up. "I guess I'll go get a coffee."
They watched her walking away and then Mickey looked at Ian. "Why would I do what she's asking?"
"Because don't you remember how you were when this all started? Don't you remember being scared and feeling alone and wanting nothing more than for everyone to perceive you as this perfect guy and for your dad to just approve of what you were doing? Do you remember that?" Mickey nodded, but Ian could tell he had no idea where he was going with this. "That's how she is. Plus, she's having a baby. Yeah, she's a bitch and she would step all over both of us just to get to what she wants, but don't you think she deserves a break? You of all people know what it's like to live under the watchful eye of society. She's afraid and she's clinging to the last thing she has: You. Don't ruin her, Mickey. You wouldn't have acted very kindly if I had told everyone after that first night. You deserved a chance to come into yourself, to find yourself. She does, too."
Mickey was quiet, thinking about what Ian had said.
"Plus, there's also the part where you're not ready to come out," Ian reminded him. "Look, the pregnancy can't stay a secret forever. At some point, Iggy will put two and two together and come up with the baby. Until people find out, just pretend. Like she said, you don't even have to talk, just act as you always have. You're doing better with everything, with coming to terms with who you are and what you want. By the time Iggy finds out, you'll be even more comfortable with who you are, you'll have had more time with it. If you don't do this for her, do it for you."
Mickey groaned, quietly. "It's like you know everything," he said, smiling a little.
"I do," Ian smirked. "So, you'll do it?"
"You really think this is the right thing to do?"
Ian nodded.
"And me and you will still—"
"We did say boyfriends, didn't we?" Ian smiled, heart beating faster, because every time he said the word to Mickey he was prepared for the rejection, which he knew probably wasn't going to come, but he couldn't help feeling like that, because he had learned to expect the worst.
"Yes," Mickey smiled back at him, golden eyes shining. "We did, didn't we?" Ian nodded. "And you're okay with it?" Mickey asked.
He was fine with it, because circumstances meant the whole thing would be a big mess and he would just have to deal with that, because Mickey was worth it.
"Absolutely," Ian assured him. "It won't last for long, trust me."
"What about me and you?"
"I'm hoping that will," Ian smiled, shyly. They had one of those movie moments, where they just stared at each other and it seemed as if everyone else wasn't even there. Ian couldn't help thinking about how cheesy it was that he had felt like that. Mickey cleared his throat then and Quinn came back across the coffee shop, coffee cup in one hand, and sat back down.
"Well?"
"You've got a deal," Mickey
"Cool," Quinn said, quickly and she stood up again. "Good. Now you can go on with your blow jobs."
They watched her go and when she had closed the door behind her, Ian sighed.
"As tempting as the blow jobs sound," Ian began. "I sort of need to go home and sleep for about two weeks, because I feel like my entire body might cave in and stop working."
"Oh, well," Mickey said. "We can't have that, can we? Let's go."
Mickey stood up and offered Ian some help, which he took, because he was exhausted. He helped him out to the car and then got in, himself. He started to drive, then.
"So, Quinn and Iggy," Ian said.
"Yeah," Mickey nodded. "Am I.. Should I feel mad at him? He was supposed to be my friend and then he just.. I don't, though. I feel nothing. Is that crazy?"
"No," Ian said. "I think you're just done caring about people who don't care about you."
"You're right," Mickey said, quietly. "Hey, maybe next I could work on not caring about my dad."
Ian looked at him, curiously. "You don't think your dad cares about you?"
"What, you think he does?" Mickey asked, as if it was the stupidest question ever asked. "He cares about himself, Ian. The only reason he wants me to do these things is so that he gets to keep his status."
"Sounds familiar," Ian muttered.
"I'm nothing like him," Mickey told him.
Ian sighed and thought for a few minutes, trying to come up with a way to explain what he meant. "I would never, ever condone what he did to you and I didn't mean to say you were alike," Ian began. "I just think that so many people are so caught up with wanting to please others, that they forget who they really are. And that's where the likeness stops, Mickey. You're not like him, you're nothing like him."
"Sometimes I worry that at the end of everything, after having been so fake and so concerned with everyone else around me, that I would end up like him; Hurting the people that have only ever loved me."
"You love your dad?" Ian asked, but he already knew the answer.
"Yeah," Mickey said. "I might be crazy, a sucker for punishment and all that, but he's still my dad and even if he doesn't give a damn about me, I can't be like him, I can't not care about him. He wasn't always like this and I remember those times, the times when he was just my dad. Now, it's different, but I won't forget those times. The thing about loving someone, Ian," Mickey said. "Is that they can do all these awful, horrible things that you would never, ever agree with in a million years and they can sicken you to the point that you regret not having reported them to the police, or whatever. But you'll always remember the times when things weren't so bad and then you'll be glad you didn't take any drastic actions. I don't know what goes through his head, Ian and I don't even want to know, but loving him is something I can't make go away. I hate him, too, most of the time, but those times when I didn't hate him will always be with me.
"Most of the time, the good won't cancel out the bad, because you'll always remember how you felt when the bad thing was happening, but sometimes you just can't stop how you feel about someone, regardless of what they've done."
"I know that," Ian told Mickey and he saw Mickey's face when he realised just what he meant, that he was referring to Mickey and how he had hurt him, but that didn't have any impact on his feelings for him, stupid as that made him.
"I'll never forgive him, though," Mickey said. "What about you?"
"I already have."