Chapter 32:

"Would you be horribly offended if I got slightly intoxicated tonight?"

Ian's piercing blue eyes were on him in a flash, one eyebrow cocked, his mouth set in a thin line. "Define 'slightly intoxicated'," Ian challenged.

Mickey sat back against the cool leather of the rented limo and shrugged. "Drunk enough that it will make me forget the horrible tragedy that is my life," he began. "Yet sober enough that I will still be capable of telling you how good you look."

"Flattery will get you—um, everywhere," Ian smiled a bit. "But you can't hide behind the alcohol forever, you know."

Mickey sighed. "'Guess I can't," he said. "My living arrangements make it very tempting, however."

"Where are you staying now?"

"Hotel."

Ian looked at him, quizzically. "Really?"

"Really," Mickey clarified. "And not just any hotel, a five star hotel. I am going to continue to use my father's money until it runs out, at which point I will go to him and tell him it has run out and he will be forced to give me more, because I have the power to tell the whole high class scene that Milkovich has a gay son. I guess being a disgrace to your family has its perks."

Mickey felt Ian's fingers entwining with his own and he took comfort in the small gesture. "Have you spoken to either of them yet?" Ian enquired. "Your parents, I mean?"

"No," Mickey told him. "But let's not talk about that, okay?"

"Whatever you want," Ian nodded. "I'm totally cool with you drinking, by the way. Just as long as I don't have to carry you back to your five star hotel."

"I," Mickey smirked. "Would not be opposed to that."

Ian could feel the burning glares as he walked through the doors of the school assembly hall. He was beginning to regret having worn the kilt, because while he was proud of it, of himself and who he was, he still didn't like the feeling that the open mouths and the judgmental stares gave him.

Iggy was standing a little away from the door and when he saw Ian's outfit, his eyes widened and his mouth opened as if he was about to speak, but he closed it again, lost for words.

"Quit ogling my date, Iggyerman," Mickey said, walking up next to Ian.

"I wasn't—"

"You were staring," Mickey pointed out.

"Only because he—well. He looks like—I mean—"

"He can't help it that he's pretty," Mickey gave Iggy a wink, then steered Ian away from him.

"I could have handled that," Ian told him, once they were a little further away. "I can take care of myself, you know."

"I am well aware of that," Mickey smiled. "But that was an opportunity I could not miss. You're more than pretty, by the way."

"And there you go with the flattery again," Ian chuckled.

"I mean it, though," Mickey said and he looked as if he meant it. The strobe lights were reflected in his bright, golden eyes and his smile reached them, making Ian's heart skip a beat. "I look at you and I think that the world must be playing a joke on me, because I had you and lost you and I'm losing you for good and God knows that no one else could ever come close. It's like having an ocean and then having that taken away from you and it being replaced with a puddle. It could never come close and it's like some sort of joke, like the world is laughing at you." Ian's smile dissipated as Mickey continued to speak. "It's as if the world is rolling on the ground in hysterics, because it's taking away my ocean and everything after that will be less than a puddle. I wish I could just climb closer to you and let you drown me, because I would rather drown in an ocean than slip into a puddle and come up wet and miserable. At least when you drown it's just over. Besides, don't they say you hear music when you drown?"

"Dude, I like your—ah, skirt thing," Finn told Ian, looking confused.

Ian thought about correcting him, but decided against it, because that would be a long, boring conversation for both of them. "Thanks, Finn. You look good."

"Thanks, man!" Finn grinned, lopsidedly. "Is Mickey here?"

"Um, yeah, he went to get some punch."

"But it's spiked," Finn said.

"Exactly," Ian nodded. Finn looked confused for a split second, then shrugged and walked on. Ian saw Mercedes and Rachel sitting down, so he went to talk to them.

"Ian, is that a kilt?" Rachel smiled, excitedly, when Ian reached the table. "That's amazing!"

"I'm going to go talk to her."

Mickey tugged him back and he turned and looked at him with accusing eyes. "Why?" Mickey asked.

Ian rolled his blue eyes. "She looks miserable."

"Stop being such a good person," Mickey said, but he was smiling. "Kidding. Go ahead. Go forth, St. Ian and save the world!"

"How much of that punch have you had?" Ian asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Obviously not enough," Mickey frowned. "Don't leave me alone for too long."

Ian's smile faded, because soon, he would be leaving Mickey alone, maybe forever.

"Quinn."

Dark green eyes lifted from the dark floor and met his. "Oh," she said. "You."

Ian ignored her non-welcoming manner and went closer to stand next to her. "Wanna come sit down? Everyone from glee is sitting at a table over there."

"I don't think so."

Ian nodded, slowly and studied her. Her bump was visible now, she hadn't even tried to hide it. Her dress was a dusty pink, made of chiffon. The material was rucked at the waist and other than that, it was very simple. It was a huge improvement on the Valentine's dress, that was for sure.

"I like this look," Ian told her.

"Cut the crap, Gallagher," Quinn said, tiredly. "I look like an obese flamingo."

Ian spluttered at that. "Wha—Quinn, you're not that bad. It's a baby, not a hippopotamous. You look good, I swear. I wouldn't lie about something like that."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "You gays and your fashion," she muttered.

"Come on, come sit with us," Ian urged. "You don't have to be alone."

Quinn said nothing, only stared off into the crowds of dancing students for a few moments, then she spoke, "Are we bonding because we've both had sex with Mickey?"

Ian scoffed. "Wow," he said. "This conversation just got exceptionally awkward for both of us."

"You wearing anything under that skirt, Gallagher?"

"You got anything inside that head of yours other than hot air, Kenneth?"

Kenny continued to smile, his dark as night eyes running slowly up and down Ian's body, making him feel uncomfortable. "You here with Milkovich?"

Ian nodded. "Here with Karofsky?"

Kenny grimaced then. "Not on your life," he informed him. "I'm flyin' solo tonight, Gallagher. Unless of course, you and that skirt of yours want to join me?"

"Not on your life, Kenneth."

"Everything okay?" Mickey asked, once Ian had left Kenny and walked back to the table. He sank down into the seat next to Mickey and nodded.

"Everything is fine," Ian assured him, then frowned at the plastic cup in Mickey's hand. "You're still drinking that crap?"

Mickey shrugged and placed the half full—or was it half empty?—cup down on the table. "Not really," he muttered. "It tastes like glue."

"It both disturbs and amuses me that you know what glue tastes like," Ian said, a small smile playing on the corners of his lips. Ian reached across and laid a hand over Mickey's.

Mickey ignored the people who seemed to stare at them because of this small contact and instead, he kept his eyes on the crowded dance floor. He watched Mike and Tina, Mercedes and Sam, and Rory and Sugar Motta dancing together. He frowned and looked away, only to see Finn and Rachel kissing at the next table. Mickey rolled his eyes.

"What's wrong?" Ian asked.

He looked up. "Don't you think it's unfair that they can do that and nobody bats an eyelid?" he asked, gesturing at Finn and Rachel, who were still playing tonsil hockey. "And not just them, either. Everyone. Yet, we get that." He pointed at two girls staring at them and whispering to each other like it was the biggest gossip since Quinn Fabray got pregnant. "And all we're doing is holding hands."

"Well, yeah," Ian shrugged, slightly. "It's not fair and the world sucks, but that's just how it is."

Mickey shook his head. "But it shouldn't be," he said. "Know what?"

"What?"

"We should dance."

"Um, what?" Ian asked, eyes wide. "No, Mickey, that's—Mickey, we don't need to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves, that's—"

Mickey sat up and shifted his body in the chair, so that he was facing Ian. "What happened to the Ian Gallagher that walked down the hallways wearing sequins and boots, with his head held high and his confidence higher? What happened to the Ian Gallagher that's proud of who he is and what he does?" Mickey moved forward, Ian's blue eyes watching him carefully. "I get that you're worried about me, okay? I know that all this 'not attracting attention' is because of me, but just stop, okay? I'm tired of hiding, tired of pretending and I'm really tired of acting like the fact that we like boys—that we like each other—means there's something wrong with us. There isn't. So, you can sit here looking pretty, with those baby blues downcast, or you can stand up and dance with me and show them that we don't care what they think. What's it going to be?"

Ian tilted his head sideways, then smiled. "Admit it, you just want to show people you've got the best dressed date at the prom," Ian teased.

"Of course," Mickey smiled, then held out a hand to Ian. "Dance with me?"

"I'm going to show you up, you know," Ian smiled, taking Mickey's hand and standing up. "I can shake my hips like it's nobody's business."

"Oh, I've seen your hips in action, trust me," Mickey chuckled and they walked across the floor.

It was the most ridiculous thing, what happened then. It was like in movies, when the couple graced the floor, the couple that were just friends, who had decided to dance together, and then a slow song came over the speakers and they were forced to continue their way on to the floor anyway, regardless of how awkward it made things. Mickey felt Ian go rigid next to him, so he gave his hand a small squeeze.

"'Doesn't change a thing," Mickey told him. He felt Ian squeeze back, then and he smiled and stopped on the dance floor. He turned to face Ian and gave him the smallest of nods.

Okay?

Ian gave a slight inclination of his head in response.

Okay.

Mickey took a step forward and closed the space between them.

"I've never done this before," Ian uttered.

"Never mind," Mickey said, pulling him closer, his arms curling around his waist. "I have a feeling you'll be amazing."

The soft music flitted through the humid air and Mickey's heart beat sped up. He could feel Ian's breath warm against his ear and he felt nervous, not because of the watchful eyes of the other students, but because Ian just felt so right, slotted into his arms, swaying there. His heart was hammering in his chest and he was sure Ian could feel it, too. Mickey shifted his body a little and his breath came out in stutters.

"What's wrong?" Ian whispered, sending electric shocks all through his body.

"Nothing," Mickey told him and it was the truth. At that moment, nothing was wrong, nothing in Mickey's whole, wide world was wrong at all.

"You're shaking," Ian uttered.

Oh. He was shaking? He was shaking. He cleared his throat a bit and fastened his arms tighter around Ian's waist.

"I'm fine, I promise," he told him. "You just—you make me nervous."

Ian leaned back a bit, his blue eyes finding Mickey's golden-brown ones. "Nervous?" he asked, curiously. "I never made you nervous before."

"You've been making me nervous since the first moment I set eyes on you," Mickey told him, quietly. "You're perfect."

Ian's eyes lit up then, because he smiled and crushed his body back to Mickey's. "I love you," Ian whispered, so quietly that Mickey wasn't sure he had actually said anything.

"And I love you," Mickey told him and Ian came closer, still, even though Mickey didn't think that was possible.

Ian's arms were draped around his neck and Mickey's head was on Ian's shoulder and he wished they could just stay like that forever, lost in the slow, steady rhythm of the music and the fast, uneven beats of their hearts. Ian smelled like soap and something sweet, something Mickey couldn't place. He breathed in his scent and wondered at what point he would forget what Ian smelled like. He thought about the fact that in the future, someone else would be breathing in that scent, someone else would slow dance with him, someone else would hold him in their arms and whisper in his ear and he would love them and they would love him.

They would never love him as much as Mickey loved him, of that he was more than sure.

"Are you okay?" Ian asked.

"I don't know how to let you go," Mickey said, before he could stop himself. That was a selfish thing to say and it would make Ian feel bad about leaving, but he couldn't control how he felt.

"You don't have to," Ian said. "At least, not yet. The song is only just kicking off."

And that was when the slow, wispy music slowed and the song begun and it was slow, too and Ian tightened his grip on him and Mickey was glad that he did, because he felt as if he might crumple to the round and break into a million separate glass particles and he didn't want that, he just wanted to hold on to Ian for as long as was humanly possible.

Oh, Florida, please be still tonight,

Don't disturb this love of mine,

Look how she's so serene,

You've gotta help me out.

He closed his eyes and breathed Ian in again and he was caught between wanting to laugh until his ribs hurt, because of how happy he was an wanting to cry his eyes out, because everything was so beautiful and this feeling would soon be a distant memory, lost in the past, only slivers of it left imprinted on the mind for the rest of their lives.

And count the stars to form the lines,

And find the words, we'll sing in time,

I want to keep her dreaming,

It's my one wish, I won't forget this.

He felt as if his breathing was constricted, his throat dry, his chest feeling tight. He opened his mouth, his lips dry and sticking to one another, and took a long, deep breath, trying to get some air into his lungs, but all it did was help a hidden sob come to surface, slipping from his mouth like an animal escaping from the zoo; Unwanted and dangerous.

I'm outdated, overrated,

Morning seems so far away.

He wondered what his life would have been like if Ian hadn't walked into McKinley High that day, wondered if he would still be hiding behind that mask, still pretending, still unaware of who he truly was. He owed everything to the boy in his arms, this boy that he wanted to keep with him forever, but couldn't, because life was picking him up and lifting him far away from him. For now, they just had to take every moment as it came.

So I'll sing a melody,

And hope to God she's listening,

Sleeping softly while I sing,

And I'll be your memories,

Your lullaby for all the times,

Hoping that my voice could get it right.

Mickey pulled him closer, as close as he could and tried to whisper in his ear that he loved him, but all that came was an uneven breath. Ian gave a small nod and Mickey knew that Ian knew what he had been trying to say. He felt Ian's arms pulling tighter and he wanted this forever, needed it, needed to have him with him until there was nothing left in the world, but the two of them, because nothing else really mattered to him, all of the other things he was dealing with were minor in comparison to what he had to let go. He didn't want it to be a memory, he wanted it to be forever.

If luck is on my side tonight,

My clumsy tongue will make it right,

And wrists that touch,

It isn't much, but it's enough.

To form imaginary lines,

Forget your scars, we'll forget mine,

The hours change so fast,

Oh, God, please make this last.

The chorus came back around and Mickey thought about all the things he didn't yet know about Ian, all the things he never would know. They hadn't known each other for long, not nearly as long as Mickey would have liked. He knew a lot about Ian, his little habits, the way he liked things to be just so, what his coffee order was, but there were so many things he didn't know, too and his stomach twisted when he realised he would never know everything, would never get the chance to watch him grow in life, to see him make it all the way to top, like Mickey knew he would. It sent his head spinning, so he shut his eyes tighter and Ian held him close.

You could crush me,

Please don't crush me,

'Cause baby, I'm a dreamer, for sure,

And I won't let you down,

I swear, this time, I mean it.

Ian pressed his warm lips to the side of Mickey's head, almost as if to comfort him in some way. He had to have felt how conflicted he was in his arms. Mickey wanted to apologise, but the words didn't come and as the music faded away, Ian raised his head and their eyes met. Mickey shook his head, no words. Ian smiled, sadly, too much to say, but not knowing where to begin. Mickey stared into the blue-ness of those eyes and he saw them glistening, the tears threatening to fall. He didn't want Ian to cry, so he forced himself to smile and then spoke the only words he could speak that were completely and utterly true.

"I'm pretty sure I've never been more in love with you than I am at this very moment."

"I shouldn't have asked you to this stupid prom."

Ian's heart stilled in his chest and he sat down next to Mickey, who looked dejected and exhausted. "Um, what?" Ian asked. "Ten minutes ago you were more in love with me than ever."

"I lied."

"Uh, okay?"

"I'm more in love with you now than I was ten minutes ago, so I lied. Unintentionally, of course, but it's a lie all the same," Mickey said, eyes on his hands. "I shouldn't have asked you, because it makes everything worse."

Ian let his shoulders slump, relieved, but his breath was still caught in his throat. He understood what Mickey meant, he just wished more than anything that things were different. Ian reached across and took Mickey's hand in his own. He resisted the urge to flash his middle finger at the guy two table over that was watching them like they were performing chimps at a circus. Mickey looked up, eyes full of curiosity.

"When you asked me to come with you, you said you wanted us to go so that we could have one more night together, a night that meant something," Ian said. "Every night—hell, every moment—with you means something big. It's going to get worse before it gets better, Mickey, regardless of whether or not we went to prom together. I'm still going to miss you every second I'm gone and you're still going to miss me, too. Come on, sit up straight. Don't let this get in the way of your fun."

Mickey sighed and sat up. He scooted his chair closer to Ian's and took his hand between his own hands. "If they vote either of us in for prom queen, we're both leaving without a word, okay?"

Ian chuckled. "Deal."

Mickey was stroking Ian's knuckles, slowly, with his finger tips. "I wish I was drunker."

"Yeah, you've been sipping cups of that crap all night," Ian said. "Why are you sober?"

"Because I've been drinking water all night."

Ian reached across and took the plastic cup in front of Mickey and peered inside. He raised it to his nose and sniffed. "Water," he said, quietly. "But—I don't understand."

"I didn't want to get wasted tonight," Mickey shrugged. "I meant it when I said I wanted to remember tonight. I thought about it on the way here, about getting drunk out of my mind, because the world is against me in basically all aspects of my life, but then I looked at you under those stupid lights and you were smiling at me, like you were giving me permission to forget about how horrible everything is, on the night that we were supposed to remember forever, because you understood, and I just couldn't do it. I couldn't stare into those blue eyes and let myself get too drunk to be able to really stare into them and see all those colours and emotions you keep locked up in there. So, I just pretended I was drinking, because I told you I would, which is stupid, now that I think about it, but—I don't know. It made sense at the time."

Ian sighed. "Why can't I have you forever?"

"But you do have me forever," Mickey said. "You told me once that you'd always be mine. That works both ways. I'm yours forever, whether you like it, or not, I'm yours. 'Doesn't matter how far away you are."

"Promise me you won't ever try to stop yourself from falling in love again, just because of me."

Ian watched as Mickey seemed to fight something internally, very, very briefly. He shook his head and looked away, staring at nothing in particular.

"I can't make that promise."

Mickey clapped half-heartedly when the prom king and queen were crowned. He didn't like either of them and barely knew their names. They were those people that all seemed to fall together into one category of people who were the same in Mickey's eyes, those people that he referred to as Scott (because everyone was called Scott) and Scott's girlfriend.

He was relieved that no one had pulled a stunt like they had at the Valentine's dance, because he wasn't in the mood to get into a fight at that moment. All he wanted to do was stare at Ian, because he wouldn't have much of a chance to do that once Ian was miles away from him.

He watched Ian smiling, talking with Mercedes. He threw his head back a bit, laughing at something she had said. He was blinking, those slow, pretty blinks, which still stunned Mickey, because how could anyone blink prettily? Somehow, Ian managed to do it, he managed to blink and Mickey would melt in seconds.

He smiled, then, when Ian turned to look at him, one thin, eyebrow raised, questioning him as to why he had been staring at him like that. Mickey shrugged one shoulder and Ian gave him a small smile, before turning back to Mercedes. Mickey knew he was beginning to sound like a lovesick puppy, but that didn't matter to him, because everything felt right when Ian smiled at him like that.

Loud music erupted through the speakers then and Ian's eyes were on him in a flash, a wide grin spread across his face.

Baby, when I met you there was peace unknown,

I set out to get you with a fine toothcomb...

It was freaking Islands in the God damned Stream. Mickey chuckled and shook his head.

"I think that's our cue to get out of here," Mickey told Ian.

"I think you're right."

"I've got an empty five-star hotel room, if you're interested," Mickey said, cocking one eyebrow.

"Well, lead the way," Ian smiled. "And hurry up, before the chorus kicks in."