Chapter 26:

"Where have you been?"

Mickey closed the front door behind him and turned to face his father who was standing by the staircase with his arms folded across his chest. He was wearing a suit and tie and his expression was sour.

"Um, school," Mickey said, simply.

His dad blinked a couple of times. "Until 9PM?"

Mickey didn't bother pointing out that it was actually about 8.15, he simply shrugged and said, "I had to work on an assignment with my English partner." He also didn't add the fact that working on an assignment with his English partner had ended with some intense making out in his car.

"The gay one?"

"Yes, dad, the gay one," Mickey said, unable to hold back a sigh. "Does it matter?"

"Everything matters, Mickey."

Mickey resisted the urge to point out that his father was being a hypocrite in saying everything mattered. As far as his father was concerned, glee club didn't matter, Mickey's happiness didn't matter, Mickey didn't matter.

"You should be ready to hear back from all those colleges you applied to soon," his father went on and Mickey's stomach did a flip. "It's lucky you applied to so many places, or I would be worried, what with that stunt you pulled with abandoning the game for singing."

"Um, yeah," Mickey uttered. "Lucky."

Mickey felt Ian nudging him with his elbow during English. He glanced sideways at him and saw he was pushing his notebook towards him. Mickey looked down to see Ian's neat handwriting on the side of the page.

Mickey.

?

.. Never mind.

Wait. What. What?

Ian didn't write back, he simply sat there, lips tight, staring up at the front of the classroom.

Ian?

Ian, come on.

Ian. Ian, I love you.

Don't write that on paper.

What did you want to tell me?

Nothing, I'm mad at you.

Why?

Because question mark.

I'm sorry. I take it back. Tell me.

Mickey saw Ian stifle a smile out of the corner of his eye, then he took his pen and scribbled.

Can we talk? I mean, after school?

Are you breaking up with me?

Mickey.

Seriously, though. Are you breaking up with me? If you are, I'd rather you just did it now.

Through a note passed during English?

Oh my God, you are! You're breaking up with me!

Will you relax?

Not if you're breaking up with me!

Mickey.

? ? ?

Mickey. X.

Sooooooooooo...

You're NOT breaking up with me?

No. I am not breaking up with you.

Because you know I love you, right?

Oh.

Good.

That's good.

Okay. So, what do we need to talk about?

Meet me after school, okay?

But..

Okay :)

"You have had me freaking out all day," Mickey said when Ian walked through the hedges to the familiar field. Mickey was sitting in the grass, picking the white petals off of a daisy. Ian went and sat next to him.

"Okay," Ian said and took a deep breath. "I need to ask you something."

"Shoot," Mickey shrugged, but Ian could tell he was afraid of what was to come.

"Mickey, where did you apply to college?"

Ian watched as Mickey's fingers stopped tugging the daisy petals, his face freezing. His eyes were wide and his mouth was stretched into a thin, tight line.

"Oh, we're having this conversation," Mickey said, sounding frightened.

Ian nodded, because they had to have it at some time, didn't they? They were nearing the end of school and they needed to talk about this, get everything straightened out and settled and easy to understand. Right now, Ian had no idea what was going to happen. They needed to have this talk.

"I didn't apply anywhere."

Ian gaped at him for a long time, the rustle of the leaves in the wind the only sound for miles.

"Um," Ian said, stunned. "What?"

"I told my dad I did," he explained. "But I don't know what I want to do. I thought football was my ticket out of here, but I don't want to play football any more. By the time I realised I should probably have applied to places that would allow me to play football, it was too late."

"So," Ian said, carefully. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," Mickey sighed, laying back and folding his arms behind his head. "Get a job, if I live that long. My dad won't be happy when he finds out, so who knows?"

Ian shook his head. This changed everything.

"Will you sit up for a minute and look at me?"

Mickey studied him with knitted brows, then sat up and gave him a quizzical look. Ian reached inside his pocket and produced a white envelope, then handed it to Mickey. Mickey opened it, slowly, as if he was afraid that snakes might pop out. Eventually, he got it open and lifted the letter out. He unfolded it, then read it. Ian looked away.

"You.." he trailed off, then looked up to meet Ian's eyes. Ian was surprised to see Mickey was smiling. "You got into college! In New York!" Ian nodded, slowly. "Why aren't you happy about this?"

"Um," Ian said and gave Mickey a meaningful look.

Mickey looked bewildered for a couple of heart beats, then realisation dawned on his face. "Oh," he said, quietly. "Us. You mean us."

Ian gave Mickey a slow nod.

"So, um, what exactly did you want to, um, say?"

"I don't know," Ian sighed. "I figured you would have a plan. I know we didn't talk about it much. Were we trying to push it away? By not talking about it? That was dumb, wasn't it? Damn."

Mickey was watching him, his head tilted sideways.

"I guess in my mind I hoped you had applied to somewhere sort of close by," Ian admitted. "But, um, I guess not.."

"I should have," Mickey muttered.

"It's not your fault," Ian told him. "You had a lot going on, we didn't know what—what this was, not for a long time."

They were both silent then, the trees still rustling loudly and the soft breeze casting small goose bumps all along their skin.

"So, what now?" Mickey whispered, finally.

Ian took a deep breath and told him exactly what he was thinking. "Maybe we should.." He took another inhale, then exhaled slowly. "Maybe we should just—just break up."

"What?"

"I said—"

"I heard what you said!" Mickey said, a little hysterically. He was done being calm, this was serious. "Are you kidding me?"

Mickey watched through wide eyes as Ian shook his head, slowly.

"No," he said. "No, I think it's for the best."

Mickey couldn't think straight. He hated when he was having a heated conversation and his mind became a muddle. Not that this was really a heated conversation, but Mickey was too flustered to be capable of composing his thoughts in his head.

"I don't get it," he said, truthfully. "I thought we were okay. More than okay, actually."

"Do you know how hard it's going to be to just—just break away when the time comes?" Ian asked, blue eyes boring into Mickey. "If we spend every day for the rest of the time we're at school together, then we're going to have a hard time saying goodbye. At least if we do it this way, we'll be used to not being together, we'll get through it easier."

"So..." Mickey trailed off, shaking his head. "So, you don't even want to try and stay together?"

"It's not that I don't want to, Mick—"

"It certainly seems that way, Ian," Mickey told him, heart beat racing far too quickly.

"Mickey," Ian groaned. "I just don't want you to think you have to sit around waiting for me, while I'm there and you're here."

Mickey couldn't really fathom Ian's thought process. "Oh," he said, then. "Is this about you wanting someone better than me? Because if it is, yeah, I get it. I don't like it, obviously, but I do get it, because I've been nothing but trouble since the start of this."

"Mickey, stop—"

"Why?" Mickey asked, voice breaking a little. God, he was not going to cry, not now. "Explain it to me. Properly. Don't leave me without an explanation."

"Look," Ian said, after a long pause. "This is not about me wanting someone better than you. There isn't anyone better than you, Mickey, at least not for me. But I can't be there, knowing you're here feeling obligated to wait for me to come back so we can be together. You don't deserve that."

"Keep going."

Ian sighed, tiredly. "I just think now is a good time to do it, before it's too late."

"Before it's too late?" Mickey asked, voice raising a little.

"Mickey, don't—"

"I love you," Mickey stressed. "You don't think it's already too late?"

"You'll get over me—" Mickey snorted and Ian sighed, yet again. "Do you think I want this, Mickey?"

Mickey only shrugged. He was stubborn sometimes.

"I don't want this," Ian clarified. "I want us, I do, but.."

"You told me you weren't breaking up with me," Mickey pointed out, which was probably a childish thing to do, but he was in no mood for being mature right now.

"That was because I thought we could work something out," Ian told him. "But you didn't apply anywhere. I just.. I wasn't expecting that."

"I've given everything up for you."

"No," Ian said, adamantly. "No, you haven't. Don't pull that one on me, Mickey Milkovich. If I had never come into your life, you would still find yourself having to hide who you are. I didn't make you gay, you were already gay and maybe, had I not shown up, maybe it would have taken you longer to realise, but no. You're not guilt tripping me with this one."

"I didn't mean to," Mickey said, quietly. He hadn't meant to accuse him of that, he had just gotten so frustrated and scared, that words had spilled from his mouth before he could think the better of it. "I just.. I don't want to lose you." Mickey paused, then breathed in for a long time. His chest felt tight.

"I'm sorry."

"I love you."

"I know you do," Ian nodded.

"I kind of hate you right now, too."

A moment of silence passed.

"Do you?" Ian asked, timidly.

"No," Mickey shook his head. "I couldn't ever hate you. I don't even know why I said that. I'm just—I'm mad, Ian. I'm mad that you think this is going to be easy for me, for either of us, because even though I know the whole love thing is sort of one-sided, I do know that you still care about me. Sometimes I wake up next to you and I catch you just staring at me and even though you don't ever say you love me back, I figure that it's enough, that having you look at me like that means more than three measly little words that get thrown around like they mean nothing every day all over this stupid world."

"You're not really making this any easier," Ian chuckled, but his heart wasn't in it.

"Good," Mickey pouted. He knew it was ridiculous and immature, but he just could not bring himself to care.

"I told you before that no matter the circumstances between me and you, that I would still be there for you, as a—a friend, someone you can come to whenever you need to. I meant that."

"Yeah, well, you can keep your friendship."

Ian was frowning at him, he could feel it.

"Sorry," Mickey uttered. "I didn't mean that."

"Yes," Ian said. "You did mean that and I guess I can't blame you."

"Whatever," Mickey said, quietly.

A long time passed without either of them speaking. Mickey had a headache. He wished he could just sleep and then maybe when he woke up, it would all have been a dream.

"So, I, uh, heard you've got a big game this weekend," Ian said.

Mickey only nodded.

"I also heard you have an important practice at the same time we have practice for regionals."

Mickey nodded again.

"Do you know what you're going to do?"

Mickey raised his eyes to Ian's then and he fell apart when he looked into those cyan seas. "Actually, I had no idea up to an hour, or so ago," Mickey told him, jaw clenched. "But you've made my choice a lot easier. Football, here I come."

"You're choosing football because I had to put an end to our relationship?"

"I only ever joined glee for you," Mickey admitted. "I wanted to be close to you. I don't get to be close to you any more, so screw glee club. I'm done."

"You joined glee club because of me?"

"Don't act like you didn't already know that, Ian," Mickey said and he was too tired to keep up his angered glare. He was just so tired.

"Maybe it started out like that," Ian said. "But I know how much you like being in glee. You smile in glee, Mickey."

"I smile when I'm with you, too," Mickey shot back. "But we don't always get to be everywhere we want, do we?"

Mickey stood up then and brushed his thighs down. He began walking away, Ian watching him.

"Mickey."

He turned back to look as Ian climbed to his feet. He held out a hand and Mickey looked down to see the bracelet he had given Ian on his birthday in a pool of silver in the centre of his palm.

"I can't keep it," Ian choked out. "I wouldn't be able to—Well. I just wouldn't be able."

Mickey took it from him, then looked up to meet his shining blue eyes. Mickey held up his wrist, his own bracelet hanging there. "Do you want this back?"

"No," Ian said. "No, never."

Mickey looked at him and he could see this was hurting him as much as it hurt Mickey, himself. He thought about putting his arms around him, kissing him once more, telling him it would be okay, but he didn't, because having Ian in his arms and against his lips would only make letting go harder.

And as for saying it would be okay, he couldn't, because he honestly couldn't predict a time when it would be.

"Quinn Fabray is pregnant."

Ian looked up quickly at Mercedes. "Um, what?"

"Quinn," Mercedes repeated. "She's pregnant."

"How do you know?" Ian asked, carefully, closing his locker door.

"She was sick in history this morning and she kept refusing to go see the nurse, until Mrs Brown insisted on escorting her and someone was in the waiting room while Quinn got checked over and heard the whole thing and now everyone knows," Mercedes told him. "I—I'm really sorry, Ian. I know you and Mickey were sort of..."

"You're just assuming it's Mickey's?" Ian asked, before he could stop the words from spilling out of his mouth. "I mean, it could be anyone's, right? I mean, you know Quinn."

"Ian," Mercedes said, pity in her eyes. "I know you want it to be someone else's, but you've got to face facts. Mickey Milkovich is the father of that baby, whether you like it or not."

Ian almost told her. he opened his mouth, then closed it again. This was not his secret to reveal.

"Yeah," he said, finally. "Yeah, you're right."

"Have you seen your girlfriend?"

Mickey looked up and saw Iggy standing there, eye still black from the pinch he had given him. "Um, no."

"Did you know?"

"Did I know what?" Mickey asked, slowly. "You and I are no longer friends, why are you talking to me?"

Iggy sat down on the bench in the boy's changing rooms. "Quinn's pregnant."

Mickey stopped still. If Quinn's secret was out, that meant Mickey's secret wouldn't be kept a secret for much longer. "Oh."

"Oh?" Iggy said, quickly. "Oh? Dude, she's pregnant!"

"I heard you the first time."

"So, what are you going to do about it?" Iggy asked, eyes wide.

"Um, nothing."

"Why don't you cut the crap, Milkovich?" Iggy snapped. "Why don't you drop the gay club and the gay English partner and the gay way you've been lately and go take care of your girlfriend?"

Mickey wanted to hit him again, because he was behaving like this, when Mickey knew about him and Quinn. "Iggyerman, stay out of my life," Mickey said, mentally counting to ten to calm himself down.

"You're such an asshole, Mickey!" Iggy groaned. "You've got the hottest girl in school and you're ruining your rep. by hanging out with glee club losers! Your new friends are geeks, Milkovich! Can't you see that? Or are you just turning into one of them and you can't tell the difference any more?"

Mickey had had enough.

"Actually, Iggy, they're better friends to me than you, or any of the guys have ever been," Mickey informed him. "For one, none of them have been sleeping with my girlfriend."

Iggy stopped still and simply stared at Mickey.

"Yeah, I know," Mickey nodded. "I'm not stupid, Iggy. You think I don't know why you joined glee? You think I don't know that you were keeping an eye on her? I do know, Iggy. So maybe instead of meeting Sandy Ryerson under the bleachers for drugs and pumping yourself with alcohol every single night, you should go talk to Quinn about her being pregnant, because it has nothing to do with me." Mickey took a deep breath, then exhaled for a long time. "You know what else? Screw this championship game. Since you think I'm turning into too much of a 'geek', there's no way I could lead the team to a victory. So good luck without me."

Mickey wouldn't even look in his direction. Ian had been surprised when he had come to the regionals rehearsal and seen Mickey there, practicing dance moves with Mike Chang. Mickey had glanced up at him when he had first entered the room, but had looked quickly away. He hadn't looked at him since.

Everyone was there, except for Iggy and Quinn, for obvious reasons. Half way through rehearsal, Mr Schuester went to the library to look for a song book. He told the kids to take a five minute break and that he would be right back.

"I just can't get that stupid move," Mercedes said, sitting down between Ian and Rachel.

"It's actually very easy, Mercedes," Rachel said. "If you use your left foot to push you upwards, it makes things a whole lot easier. I'll show you once Mr Schuester gets back."

Ian drifted off into his own thoughts as Rachel and Mercedes discussed the dance moves. He had them down already, he didn't need to listen, anyway. Mickey was still trying to pick up a move from Mike, but kept on leaving a step out. Everyone else was chatting quietly and laughing and drinking water.

Ian looked up then when he heard a loud voice over by the door.

"Hey, Milkovich!"

Mickey turned around to look at Iggy, as he walked through the door, followed by what appeared to be the rest of the football team. Everyone was looking at them now.

"Excuse me, Noah," Rachel said, standing up and placing her hands on her narrow plaid-covered hips. "You chose to go to your silly practice, so please leave."

Iggyerman ignored her and a couple of the other players laughed from where they stood by the door. Iggy walked closer to Mickey.

"You seriously came to gay club? Again?"

"Did I not make it clear that I wasn't going to football?" Mickey snapped back.

"Is this over Quinn?" Iggy asked. "Is that what this is about?"

A few people exchanged confused looks, but Ian just watched.

"Hardly," Mickey rolled his blue eyes. "This is about me being tired of your crap."

Iggy shoved Mickey forward and then Mickey was shoving him back and Ian almost stood up, but Finn had moved forward and pulled Mickey back.

"He's not worth it, dude," Finn told Mickey.

"You're right," Mickey spat out. "He's not."

"I'm worth more than you, Milkovich."

Mickey looked back at him, eyes narrowed. "I doubt that."

"Well," Iggy said, with a sneer. "You couldn't even keep your girlfriend satisfied, so I had to do it for you. Yeah, that's right, everyone. Baby Iggy, not Milkovich."

An echo of gasps and low whispers filled the room. Some of the footballers' jaws had dropped and they were looking at each other in surprise.

"It disturbs me that you think the fact that I am not going to be a teenage father would disappoint me," Mickey told him.

"You'd bail on her even if it was your kid, Milkovich," Iggy said, angrily. "Don't lie. You've been bailing on all of us since the start of the year. You turned into this—this fucking fag that sings and dances with another group of fags and you expect a girl like Quinn Fabray to stay with you?"

"You're not grasping the concept here, Iggy," Mickey said. "I don't care about Quinn, I never have. We despise one another, we always have."

Iggy was staring at him, confusedly. "You were the best friend I had, Milkovich. We were always alike, I thought you were cool, you know? But actually you're not. You're an asshole and I don't get how you managed to stay on top. I don't know how you're on top, now—Oh, of course, unless you're on top in another way, which maybe I could believe. You're acting weird enough, how should I know what you're doing—or who you're doing—in your spare time?"

Ian could see it in Iggy's eyes, in his body language that he didn't actually believe Mickey was gay, he was just saying these things to get to him, to show him up in front of everyone else. Ian turned his gaze to Mickey, who just looked as if he might blow his top. He was clenching his fists and they had turned white and he was grinding down on his teeth and his dark brows were knit tightly in the centre of his head.

And that was when Ian knew, he knew what was coming next and he couldn't even stand up to stop him, because Mickey had reached that point they had talked about. He had reached the edge and instead of allowing himself to tip over, he had to pull himself up and come clean.

"Actually," Mickey said, looking around the room, briefly, then resting his eyes back on Iggy. "We were never alike, Iggy. We have nothing in common. In face," Mickey said, looking across at the other footballers. "I have nothing in common with any of you—Well." Ian saw Mickey's eyes lingering on Karofsky for a split second. "Maybe one of you, but that's where the similarities stop. The thing is, Iggy, you think you're always right and most of the time, you're not. This time on the other hand, you're half right, so congratulations for that."

The whole class was silent now, as Mickey walked down the front of the room where everyone could see him. He raised his head and looked around, then opened his mouth to speak.

"I'm tired of pretending to be someone I'm not," Mickey said, firmly. "So, I have a confession to make."