Chapter 30:

"Finn asked me to prom!"

Ian, Mercedes, Tina, Santana and Brittany sat there in silence, just watching Rachel.

"That was your big announcement?" Mercedes asked.

Rachel's wide grin faded and she looked confused. "Yes," she said. "I don't understand, this is big news! I wanted to share it with my girls." Ian raised a thin brow. "And Ian!" she added, quickly.

"Rachel, Finn is your boyfriend," Tina said. "Of course he asked you to prom. Just like Mike asked me."

"I'm going with Sam," Mercedes grinned and her statement was followed by a loud chorus of shrill screams.

Ian was happy for Mercedes, but he couldn't help feeling down. He missed Mickey and it seemed as if everyone had a boyfriend, but him. Ian sighed and sat back, wondering at what point in the future he would be over this and ready to move on. He came up with nothing.

"Look, you know me by now," Mickey said, following the librarian down the counter, as she went to file papers. "Sure, I vomited one timeand it's not as if I could help that. Where's your sense of romance?"

"L232," she said, pointing towards the shelves.

"What—no," Mickey shook his head. "That's not what I meant. I know where the romance section is, I've been sitting there since September. I vomited there." He paused as she gave him an unamused look. "Okay, not helping. Look, I just need you to make sure no one else sits there. Just for like, ten minutes. Please."

The librarian sighed, tiredly and laid a stack of paper down on her desk. "Okay," she said. "Fine, but any longer than that and the deal's off."

"Really? Thank you!" Mickey beamed. "I promise to stop being loud and to stop laughing and being a nuisance while I'm here. And I'll never vomit here again! Thank you!"

1 NEW MESSAGE FROM: Mickey.

Hey. Wanna meet me in the library at 6 and we can get that assignment done? -Mickey.

Ian pushed the library door open and walked in, the familiar scent of old books hitting him the moment he stepped inside. The library was empty, as usual, only the librarian perched in her chair behind the counter, her thin, wire, gold-framed glasses sitting on her nose as she studied a book. She glanced up at Ian, then looked back down at her book. Ian turned to walk towards their usual table, but found that Mickey was not yet there.

Ian rolled his eyes, sighed and went towards the table to sit and wait. However, when Ian reached the table, he stopped. There was something sitting on the table, right in front of the chair that Ian usually sat in. He stood there for another couple of seconds, then went forward to see what it was.

When he sat into his seat, Ian saw that a small scrap of paper was sitting there. On top of the paper, was a single orange rose and also a pool of familiar silver links. Ian furrowed his eyebrows and unfolded the scrap of paper, slowly and quietly, because he was, after all, in a public library.

Ian squinted down at the page and read the messily scrawled words.

Hi, Ian :)

I'm not there, obviously, which means I lied and we said no more lies, but this is a good kind of lie, even if that might not be possible. But hopefully you think it's a good kind, too.

I'm just going to get to the point, because I asked the librarian (God, we are always there, why don't we know her name by now?) to keep the table free for like, ten minutes. I bet there's no one there, though. I bet it's just you. It's always just you, anyway. Always just you.

Anyway, to the point. I'm asking you to go to prom. With me. I'm asking you to go to prom with me. Will you go to prom with me? I rephrased this in my head about six billion times, which is stupid, right? Because we know each other and I should just ask. So, will you go? I mean, as my date, obviously, even if we're not how we were?

You should meet me at our field. That's where I am now, waiting for you. Anxiously. Pick up your bracelet, put it on, stick that rose in your pocket and get in your car and come down here and put me out of my misery, because I'm most probably pulling my hair out right now, which is a lot of wasted hair gel. See, now I'm babbling.

See you in a few.

I love you (still).

Mickey.

Ian shoved the paper and the bracelet in his pocket and took the rose carefully in his hands, then stood up.

"You came."

"Putting you out of your misery," Ian said, walking towards Mickey, smiling, the rose still in his hand.

Mickey looked flustered and uneasy as he stood up quickly and brushed grass off his pants. Ian stopped a couple of feet away from him. "Um," Mickey cleared his throat. "Before you say no, I have something I want to say."

"Mickey, I—"

"No, please. Hear me out," Mickey said. Ian gave him a small nod and Mickey exhaled. "Okay, so, prom. I—look, Ian I know that we're breaking away and you're leaving and I sort of broke things off, but I just—I want one more day, one more real, full, good day with you, before you run away into this amazing new life that I don't belong in."

"Mickey, d—"

"Sit down for a minute?" Ian sat and Mickey moved to sit next to him. He reached out and took the rose from Ian. "Do you know what this means?" he asked, holding up the flower.

"An orange rose?" Ian shook his head. "No idea."

Mickey smiled. "It's not an orange rose," he told Ian. "I mean, yeah, it looks like an orange rose, but it's actually called a yellow rose with red tips, or something like that. I googled rose meanings for this and this felt like the right one to give to you. Let me explain," he sat up a little. "A yellow rose with red tips symbolises friendship and falling in love, which was sort of how we begun, y'know? And we're maybe sort of back to the friendship thing now, though not really. We'll never really be friends I don't think.

"And you said orange at first glance, right?" Ian nodded. "An orange rose symbolises, um, let's see.. enthusiasm, desire and fascination." Mickey paused, then looked away from the flower and up into Ian's eyes. "The first day I saw you changed my life. That might sound cliché and cheesy, but it's true. It was strange, because up until then I thought I had my entire life mapped out in front of me, but then I met you and everything was different. The first time I laid eyes on you was the first day of school. You were down the hall struggling with your locker and I remember thinking you were so different to everyone else. You move with this—this grace, this elegance and style and fluidity that no one else moves with.

"I remember thinking that you would probably end up inside your locker by the time the day was out and I also remember thinking there was something inexplicably interesting about you, something that just caught my attention and I had no idea why. Or maybe I just didn't want to admit it to myself, I don't know. I remember thinking I was sick, my stomach felt empty and hollow and I felt dizzy and I didn't want to slushie you. I thought about how you must have spent hours getting your hair as perfect as it was and that one slushie would mean hours of styling to precision would just go to waste and I didn't want to do it. I did it because that was what I thought I was supposed to do, because they were grinning at me, their eyes urging me to do it. I regretted it the moment I did it. I've regretted it every day since.

"I remember your eyes were what caught my attention, I mean, don't get me wrong, you're beautiful, you are, but you have these—theseeyes that are never just one colour. They're every colour under the sun, yet somehow I can still pin point them as blue. I remember thinking you had these really piercing blue eyes that seemed to plead with me not to do it, and I almost didn't. I almost turned around and walked away because I didn't want those brilliant blue eyes to become red rimmed and watery from the damned slushie. After everyone left, I went back for the schedule and I took it away with me, because you were this big mystery to me and I wanted to solve you, figure you out. I had Lip give me your details and I slipped that clean schedule inside your locker and I watched. I watched you when it fell out and hit the ground. I watched you jump back in surprise and I wondered what you must have gone through that had you so jumpy, but when you saw what it was and that someone had taken their time to do that for you, you were pleasantly surprised, touched even and that gave me this crazy thrill, to know that I'd maybe made you smile for that split second.

"Then I saw that we had class together. I've been in Mrs Flynn's class for years and she does the same thing, every year. She pairs us with the person next to us. I knew that no one would sit with you, Ian. I knew how many students were in that class. I knew that the only empty seat would be next to you, so I hid out in the toilets until everyone was in class, then I went and found that I was right. I was going to get paired with you and I don't know what I hoped to gain from that, but I knew I just—I had to do it, you know?"

"You—you planned that?" Ian exclaimed and Mickey nodded.

"Yeah, I just—I wanted to be near you," he said. "Then we met up and you seemed to figure me out without even knowing me and then I found myself thinking about you all the time. Like, every second of the day. I would go to sleep thinking about you at night. I'd wake up in the morning and all I would see was those blue eyes. Everything was you. I was—I was obsessed, and that's where the fascination comes in. Enthusiasm because every time I saw you, there was something within me that just felt—I don't know—excited, because you were so new and amazing and intriguing to me and I just wanted to know everything about you. Orange roses are fascination, enthusiasm and desire. I think desire pretty much speaks for itself. I wanted you. I tried to fight it, but it wouldn't go away. Like the song said, these feelings won't go away and yeah, they were knocking me sideways, they still are. I gave in that night after Iggy's party. I did exactly what I wanted to you and you weren't pushing me away and that was crazy to me, that after everything, you would still let me touch you.

"I know that I'm only supposed to take the one, true meaning into account when I look at this rose, but just listen to me," Mickey smiled a bit. "A single rose of any colour, symbolises gratitude and God, am I grateful to you, for you, too. You helped me embrace who I really am and you took the time to give a damn about me, something no one else had ever done. And you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, so yeah, I'm grateful for you.

"There are red tips—they look orange, but they're red," Mickey showed him. "Red roses mean courage, beauty, love, passion and 'I love you'," he smiled. "Who's more courageous than you are, Ian? No one. Beauty? Who's more beautiful than you are? Also no one. Love and passion? Speaks for themselves, really. And 'I love you'? Well, I love you, don't I? I love you and I want you to know that I do. I love you.

"And finally, a yellow rose symbolises jealousy, promise of a new beginning, 'I care' and 'remember me'," Mickey's golden eyes met Ian's glistening blue ones. "Jealousy because every time someone looks at you—and they do a lot—I get jealous. I know you don't notice, but they do, everyone stares at you. You have this way of moving that just draws attention—not to mention those sinfully tight pants," Mickey smirked. "I just want to wrap you up in my arms and let everyone know you're mone—which, you're not any more, but it's just what I've always wanted to do. Promise of a new beginning, because, well, look at the road ahead of you. You've got so much going for you. You're going to make it all the way to the top, Ian," Mickey smiled and Ian saw the gleam in his eyes. "'I care', because I do. I care. I love you and I care about you and if I had to risk everything else in the whole world just to keep you safe, I'd do it in a heart beat.

"Finally, 'remember me'. I know you're going out to New York and that you're going to be surrounded by all these amazingly artsy, talented guys who are—let's face it—gonna want you really badly, because you're pretty perfect. I know that you'll find someone and yes, that hurts, but I've accepted that that's how it has to be. I'm going to be a distant memory to you, but I just—I want you to remember me, even if it's only distantly," Mickey told him. "I want you to look back in like, ten years and remember that guy who took your virginity, then freaked out and made you cry and on your birthday, no less. I kind of want you to look back and think how you did love me and i loved you, but that you're better off where you are, that you took the right road, because I made you cry and I hurt you. I don't want you to ever regret what you're doing. I still want you to remember me, though. I want you to remember something, even if it's bad. I don't want to be forgotten in your life, Ian."

Ian chuckled, but his voice broke. "I could ever forget you, you idiot," he told him, reaching across and taking his hand. "I love you more than anything, there's no forgetting you, not when you make me feel like you do."

Mickey grinned, then. "Okay," he nodded. "Good. So, that's the meaning behind this," Mickey told him, handing him the flower again. "I want you to keep the bracelet, Ian. I want you to know that I could be a decent person every once in a while. I just—please keep it. You don't even have to wear it."

Ian shook his head and scrambled to root in his pocket, to retrieve the bracelet. He took it out and handed it to Mickey, who was watching him with questioning eyes. Ian held out his wrist and after a couple of seconds of silence, Mickey clasped the bracelet around his wrist.

"So, um, about prom," Mickey said, quickly. "I know that for the most part, it seems like all I want to do is take your clothes off and I'm not going to lie, I love taking your clothes off, but that's not what it was about for me. I love you, Ian and maybe you're sick of hearing me tell you that, but I don't know another way to express how I feel about you. Saying that I love you doesn't feel enough, but I don't know how else to do it. So, yeah, sometimes I got a little carried away and I slipped my hands down your pants when I wasn't supposed to, but above all, this was about us falling in love, being in love, staying in love, wanting to love each other, but not being able to. Every second spent with you made me ecstatically happy. You see me like no one else does and sometimes, I think I see you like no one else sees you, too. Soon, we're going to be too far away from one another and phone calls and emails and letters will get lost among the rush of life and then when we finally do see each other, it'll be awkward nods and how've you beens and you look goods, when all I'll ever want to do is kiss you again.

"Which is why I want you to come to prom with me," Mickey nodded. "I want to have another night with you, a night that means something big. I want this final night with you and that doesn't mean you have to sleep with me, or kiss me, or even hold my hand. It just means you come with me and we have a good time together," Mickey smiled. "The other reason I want you to come is that I know you won't go if someone doesn't take you. I know you won't go alone. And you deserve to go to your senior prom, Ian. I mean, I'm not going to go if you say no, but I think we should do it. I think we should do it for us. So, before you say no, think about all that. Think about it and get back to me."

Ian was laughing then and Mickey was staring at him with one eye brow raised.

"I was going to say yes in the first place," Ian told him.

"You..." Mickey trialed off. "You let me go through all that and you were going to say yes?"

Ian nodded and reached across for Mickey's hand. "Sorry," he smiled. "But that was a pretty convincing speech and thank you. I didn't know all of that. I love you."

"So, you'll come?"

"Yeah, I'll come," Ian smiled. "But you need to promise me you'll stay somewhere tonight. I know you won't come back to my house, but God knows you should, but at least go somewhere, Mickey, away from the cold."

"Okay, sure," Mickey nodded, eagerly. "Yes, I'll go somewhere, I promise. Just.. You know this doesn't mean we're back together, just that I want another day with you, one last proper day. I mean, we'll have days after this, but this is big and I wouldn't want to spend it with anyone else."

"I understand," Ian told him. "I don't want to leave you, Mickey," Ian sighed and lay back, not caring about the grass stains that were probably going to be all over his white pants. "I try to think of all these ways around it, taking you with me, not going, begging them to take you, too, but every pro has two cons."

"I know," Mickey said, laying down next to him. "I've thought about it, too. I just feel like it all seems so surreal, you know? Like I could never do it, never leave here, even though that's all I've ever wanted. I feel like I have so many things I need to fix first before I can even think about going anywhere else. And you, you've got to go. I refuse to watch you stay here because of me and if you do that, I'll leave you anyway."

Ian chuckled. "I'm going," he assured him.

"I know," Mickey said, sadly.

They stayed silent then, just listening to the soft hum of the breeze, then Ian leaned up and flipped himself on to his stomach, then propped himself up on his elbows so that he could see Mickey properly.

"Hey," he said, looking into those big, bright eyes. "I know you think you love me more than I love you, because I haven't really made it very vocal and I don't show it nearly as much as I should," he began. "But trust me, I love you every bit as much as you love me."

Mickey reached up and tugged Ian down until he was half on top of him. "I know that," he apprised him. "It's funny, because my whole life literally fell down around me, yet the only thing that really irks me is the entire situation between us. You're the thing that's on my mind all the time. Screw being homeless, family-less, prospect-less, everything else-less. All I give a damn about it how I'm probably never going to see you again once you leave and that hurts more than any of the rest."

Ian leaned down and pressed a light kiss to his lips. "Was I not supposed to do that?"

"No," Mickey said, lips upturning.

"Should I do it again?"

"Definitely," Mickey smiled as Ian's lips came down to meet his again.

"So, prom," Ian said, once they'd broken apart.

"Yeah," Mickey smiled. "Prom."

"You'd better show me a good time," Ian teased.

"Ian Gallagher," Mickey smirked, his cool fingers sliding up the back of Ian's shirt, slowly. "Don't I always show you a good time?"

Ian shivered and swallowed hard as Mickey's hands came down on his warm skin and his lips reached up and found his neck. Ian felt him sucking his skin into his mouth and he gasped a little.

"Mickey."

"I'm losing you soon, but until then," Mickey breathed. "I want people to know you're mine, even if you're technically not mine at the moment."

Ian blinked a couple of times, then reached down and pulled Mickey's head gently upwards, until his teeth were grazing Ian's neck. Mickey made a sound that sounded as if he was questioning Ian.

Ian gave him a small shrug and pressed his neck down to Mickey's swelled lips, then he whispered in Mickey's ear.

"I'm always yours."