Chapter 34:

There were only two weeks until Ian was leaving for New York and Mickey was feeling more depressed than he had in a long time. They had spent a lot of time together, despite not actually being together as a couple. Mickey thought about what Ian had said the night of prom, about how they shouldn't have even broken up, because they always seemed to end up in bed together and it was true.

Since prom, they had ended up in bed together numerous times. They had slept together the night after the nationals competition, which they won (apparently, Quinn wasn't the only one who believed in celebratory sex) and the night of graduation, too. They had spent almost every day during the summer together, too, so naturally, many of those nights had ended with them getting intimate.

Mickey had been sort of bitter-sweet about how often they spent in one another's company, because he had broken it off for a reason, he needed them to not continue to get closer, because that would make things harder, but at the same time, he didn't want to waste a minute not breathing the same air as Ian. Now that the time was drawing closer, he didn't know what to do.

He had managed to secure a job at the Lima Bean, which wasn't really his dream job, but it was fine for now. It wasn't really that he needed the money, he was still using his father's cash for everything, including the hotel he was now staying in. He had applied for the job because he wanted something to do. He was tired of sitting around, doing nothing all day. It had been good for a while, but he had grown tired of it. At least with the job, he felt as if he was doing something.

He called Ian one night, as he lay on the bed in his hotel room. He called Ian most nights, or Ian called him. It hurt to think about not hearing from Ian every day once he was gone, but most of the time, he tried not to think about that, because like most things in his life, he put them off until they were right in front of him, when he had no choice but to face them.

"Hi," he said, once Ian had picked up. "I've been thinking."

"Makes a change," Ian teased and Mickey smiled, half-heartedly.

"I'm going to go back to my parents' house and pick up the rest of my things," he told Ian. "Make a clean break and all that."

"Oh, yeah?" Ian asked. "Are you sure?"

Mickey twisted his face. "Of course, I'm sure," he told him. "Why wouldn't I be sure?"

"I don't know," Ian said. "I guess it's like clearing out the rest of your things makes it really final, y'know?"

"Exactly!" Mickey smiled, slightly. "I don't want anything to do with them, so I should just break away."

"Only if you're sure."

"I am."

There was a pause, then Ian spoke, "I'll help you."

"What?"

"Clear your stuff out," Ian went on. "I can give you a hand with it."

"Oh," Mickey said. "Yeah? You know you don't have to."

"If you don't want me to, I won't." Mickey could almost see Ian holding up his hands in defence. "I'm just offering my services." Mickey grinned at that. "NOT in that way!" Ian interjected and Mickey could hear him smiling.

"Aww," he fake pouted. "But seriously, thank you. That would be amazing."

"Okay," Ian said. "When do we start?"

"Will you relax?"

"But my dad is home!"

Ian sighed and sat back in the passenger seat of Mickey's car. "What do you want to do?" he asked. "Do you want to come back another time? Do you want me to leave and do this by yourself?"

Mickey turned and looked at him, face a mask of confusion. "Why would I want you to leave?"

"I just thought—"

"No," Mickey shook his head. "No, I don't care if he sees you. In fact, we should like, make out in front of him, just to get a rise out of him."

"Bad idea," Ian pointed out.

"I know," Mickey said. "But it's a nice little fantasy."

"I've envisioned nicer fantasies," Ian deadpanned.

"You should tell me about them some time," Mickey smirked, then took a deep breath. "Okay," he exhaled. "Let's do this."

"Before you say anything," Mickey said, quickly, once his father had opened the door. He didn't look much like Mickey, only around the nose and he had the same triangular eyebrows. His hair was a shade lighter and his eyes were an ordinary, muddy brown, unlike Mickey's stunning golden ones. He looked stern and reminded Ian of those really stereotypical business men in TV shows, all pressed suits and stiff upper lips. "I'm here to get the rest of my things and then I'm out of your hair for good."

Ian followed Mickey into the hallway and Mickey started up the stairs. He stopped half way and looked back at his dad and Ian saw a familiar glint in his bright eyes. "Oh, by the way, dad," Mickey said. "This is Ian. I'm glad you two are finally meeting, you know, before we elope."

Mickey turned to look at Ian, a broad grin plastered on his face. Ian couldn't help glancing back to see how Mickey's dad had reacted. His expression was a mixture of surprise and anger. Mickey reached out and grabbed Ian's hand, then pulled him upstairs. "Come on, pretty boy."

Ian's heart had a half a second to do a mini flip, before Mickey was tugging him gently up the stairs and into his bedroom.

"You just don't know when to keep your mouth shut, do you?" Ian smiled, closing the bedroom door.

"It was worth it," Mickey said. "His face! That was priceless, oh my God."

Ian smiled at Mickey's delight. "Come on," he said. "Let's get you moved out."

"Isn't this.." Mickey turned around when he heard Ian speaking. "Yeah. This is mine." Mickey turned around to see Ian holding something grey.

"What?" Mickey asked, curiously.

"This scarf.." Ian said, slowly. "Did I.. Did I leave this here?"

Mickey went closer. He felt himself blushing when he saw what Ian was holding. "Oh, that," he said, bashfully. "I meant to give that back. Do you remember the day after Iggy's party and you wore the scarf to cover up the..?" He gestured at his neck. Ian gave a small nod. "So, remember after lunch Iggy like, tore it off you and stomped on it, then we shoved you in that locker?"

"I remember."

"Well, I sort of.. went back after a while and it had been flung in the garbage, so I decided I'd take it home and like, wash it and give it back, but I forgot. It's washed. I just never brought it back to you."

"You forgot," Ian said, carefully.

Mickey shrugged and walked past Ian. He reached into the back of his closet and lifted out a studded jacket. "Also yours," he said, holding it out for Ian to take. He took it from him, then looked up at him quizzically. "This got thrown in the garbage, too and I took it home to wash and also forgot to bring that back."

"Okay."

Mickey sighed, then sat down on his bed. Ian came and sat next to him. "Maybe I didn't forget."

Ian only nodded.

"It's like.. I was trying to hold on to you," he went on. "Which is dumb, because back then, you weren't even going anywhere. I guess I was just clinging on to—something."

Ian reached across and placed a warm hand over Mickey's. Mickey raised his eyes to Ian's. "Do you want to keep them?" Ian asked, softly.

"Wh-what?"

"Yeah," Ian shrugged. "I mean, if you want."

Mickey looked down, because Ian was shoving the jacket and the scarf into his lap. "I—they don't smell like you any more," Mickey said, quietly.

They sat in silence for a few seconds. The humorous atmosphere that had been in the room was gone entirely now. Ian sat up a bit, then. "I'll take them home and I'll wash them with my detergent, then you can have them back."

"You don't ha—"

"Mickey," Ian said, steadily and Mickey looked up into Ian's blue eyes. "It's okay." Ian gave him a slow nod.

"You make everything better," Mickey told him, trying to ignore the lump forming in his throat. He looked up and tried to smile, but it didn't go all the way to his eyes. "What will I ever do without you?"

Mickey dropped the last box into the back of his car and Ian shut the trunk with a loud bang. "All done?" Ian asked.

"I think so," Mickey told him. "I just want to do a quick walk through downstairs, make sure I don't have to come back. Coming?"

"Sure," Ian smiled and followed him inside.

They walked through the house, Mickey moving things every so often. His dad seemed to be out of sight now. Ian wondered where his mom was and just as he thought this, he heard a voice behind him calling Mickey's name. He could see Mickey in her, the bright eyes and the good looks. Ian felt out of place, he stood back a bit, next to Mickey, because this had suddenly gotten insanely awkward.

"Mom," Mickey said, quietly.

"Your dad said you were here!"

"I'm just getting my things, then I'm leaving," Mickey nodded.

"Mickey," his mother said, with a sigh. Mickey saw her eyes flicker over Ian for a moment. "Can't you just drop this—this gay thing," she whispered those words. "And come home?"

"Drop this.. Okay," Mickey shook his head. "Mom. Look. This," he said, reaching out and taking Ian by the shoulder. "Is Ian. Ian is hands down the greatest person I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, but he didn't make me gay, mom. I was already gay, I always will be. I can't just 'drop it'. It's not as easy as that. This is who I am, so either accept it, or don't, it's your choice. Either way, I'm moving out, because I can't stand to be here any more. I'm done."

"Darling," Mickey's mother said. "It's just a phase. When your uncle Ernie was in high school, he went through a similar phase! He thought he was in love with Henry Lionard, who was class president, but look at Ernie now! Married, with three kids and he has his own gas station! Mickey, reconsider, sweetheart."

Mickey could only gape at her, unable to form real, coherent words.

"Mrs Milkovich," Ian said, beside him, much to Mickey's surprise. "I know it's useless trying to explain to you that this is not a choice, because I've met far too many people who believe it is and their opinions can't be changed, no matter what. But Mickey is your son, okay? I have spent years wondering what my mom would think about me if she was alive and from what I've been told, she was an accepting woman. I would still give anything to have her here with me, then I would know for sure. You're still here and Mickey still needs a parent that loves him regardless of his sexuality. Don't let him go away like this, on bad terms. Don't let him lose a mom, because you can't accept who he is, when so many people lose their moms to fatalities.

"There are a million things I wish I could say to my mom, but I can't," Ian went on. "Life sucks and sometimes, bad things happen and you regret not having said things after it's too late. If you let him walk away now, you might regret it."

Mickey gave Ian a grateful smile and Ian just nodded a bit. Mickey looked at his mom, who just looked more confused than anything else. Then he heard his dad's voice behind him, coming out of the kitchen.

"Mickey made his choices," he said, stopping by the door, arms folded across his chest. "Just because your father thinks it's okay for you to bring disgrace on your family, doesn't mean I do. That's what makes our classes so different—"

"With all due respect, Mr Milkovich," Ian interjected. "My father's son isn't the one who has been living at various friend's house, as well as at hotels for the past few months, so I don't think you're in any position to judge how my dad perceives me."

Mickey saw his dad open his mouth to speak, but he spoke first. "Dad," Mickey said. "Seriously, you need to sit down and reevaluate your life. Stop living like this, it's tragic." He saw Ian stifle a smile beside him. "You know what? I don't even want to be here for a second longer, let's go, Ian."

Mickey walked towards the hall, Ian following, but his mom stepped in front of him.

"Mickey," she said. "This is ridiculous. You must know in your heart that this isn't right—"

"Actually, all I know in my heart is that I love Ian and he loves me, but you guys don't," Mickey said, voice quivering a little. "Because if you did love me, you would accept me no matter what. We're through here. Let us pass."

"Let them go," Mickey heard his father say, sternly behind them and Mickey's mom stepped instantly out of the way. They continued walking, but his father went on. "We don't need filth like that in our house. Especially not the faggy son of a mechanic—"

Mickey didn't have time to think before he had swung back around and made a beeline for his father, but Ian was there in a flash, restraining him.

"Mickey," Ian hissed. "It's okay."

"It is not okay," Mickey said, through gritted teeth.

"Yes, it is," Ian assured him. "Relax. We can just leave and—"

"You know all those times I told you I hated you?" he shouted at his dad, who was still standing by the door. Ian was gripping his arms tightly and he could have broken away, but that would mean shoving Ian off, which he wasn't about to do. "I never meant it, not once, but now," Mickey continued. "Now I do. I can't stand you! I hate everything about you. I hate how you act like a complete asshole at home, yet outside, you pretend like we're the perfect family. We're not. We never have been. We've never even been a family. All we have ever been is me and mom tip toeing around, afraid to make one wrong turn in case it sets you off. That's what this 'family' has been. You can insult me all you want, whatever, you're the one that raised me, so if I'm a screw up, that's your fault, but don't stand there and call Ian names when he is a million times more of a man than you could ever be. It's funny, because there was a time when I felt bad for you, felt like there must have been something to make you so.. so angry, but I figured it out. You're just a huge asshole and I hate you."

Ian had a steady hand pressed to his back and he was making tiny circular movements with it, which was keeping him calm.

"I'm okay," he told Ian. Ian looked sceptical, so Mickey relaxed his body and gave him a nod. "I'm fine." Ian just nodded and loosened his grip, but he didn't let go entirely. "We should just go," Mickey said.

He shot his dad one more glare, then turned around and let Ian steer him towards the door. Mickey gave his mom a look of disapproval, then continued on out the door, leaving it all behind. He was through with them, through with everything. He didn't want anything to do with them, not ever again.

"It'll be okay," Ian said, stroking Mickey's hair back from his face. "I know right now it doesn't seem like it will, but I promise it'll be okay. Things always get better, babe. Sometimes, they just have to get worse, first."

"Th-that's the worst pep talk you have ever give me, Ian Gallagher," Mickey told him, wiping his eyes.

"Well, I can't be perfect all the time," Ian smiled, sadly.

"And suddenly everything I've ever believed in has been shattered into a million pieces," Mickey joked, sniffling a bit.

"Honestly, though," Ian said, placing a light kiss to Mickey's forehead. "It can't stay bad forever. Nothing is ever permanent."

Mickey twisted his face, his eyes filled with confusion. They were more green than anything else, which happened every time he cried. "I love you," he told Ian. "That's permanent."

"Oh, I didn't mean—wow. I suck. I guess some things are permanent," Ian shook his head. "Sorry. I love you, too. I'll never stop."

"You do sort of suck sometimes," Mickey told him.

"You are just extra bitchy, lately," Ian smiled, still stroking Mickey's dark curls back from his face.

"I have good reason," Mickey pointed out. "Sorry. You don't suck. At least not in the way I just meant. I just—I don't know. I'm tired of everything being a mess. I'm tired of crying, yet somehow, I still seem to have so many tears left in me that just refuse to stay locked up."

"So just cry," Ian shrugged, laying back next to Mickey. "If you need to cry, cry. I could never judge you for needing to cry."

Mickey moved to lie on his side and he leaned across and rested his head on Ian's chest. Ian reached down and continued to stroke his hair. "I'm sorry, I'm just going to slobber all over you, right now," Mickey told him.

"Usually, I would tell you to get the hell off me, because that's disgusting and I like this shirt," Ian said. "But slobber away."

"Have I told you I loved you today?"

"Yes," Ian said. "But I could never get tired of hearing that."

"So then Mickey told him he hated him and we left and I took him back to his hotel and he just.. Just cried, dad. He just cried until he fell asleep."

Ian watched as Frank's look of anger changed to one of pity. He shook his head and took his cap off, then placed it down on the kitchen table.

"Did you tell him he could come stay here whenever he wants?" Frank asked. "I don't like him being alone in a hotel, Ian."

"I told him," Ian sighed, tiredly. "I tell him every single day. He won't come over."

Frank looked angry again as he fidgeted with his cap. "Alright," he said. "But I have an idea. Hear me out and tell me what you think."

Mickey opened the door to his hotel room and Ian was standing there, smiling, his hair perfectly coiffed, eyes bright and beautiful and jeans tighter than should have been possible. Mickey smiled instantly, then frowned.

"You're leaving in three days."

"I know," Ian said, smile fading. Mickey stepped back and he walked inside. He saw Ian looking around the room, just as he always did, making sure Mickey wasn't living in a pig sty. Mickey had gotten into the habit of cleaning it every time he knew Ian was on his way over, just to avoid wasting the first ten minutes of their time together cleaning up. "So, listen, I have to talk to you."

"That sounds foreboding," Mickey chuckled, climbing on to the bed and waiting for Ian to come and sit next to him.

"It's nothing bad," Ian told him, moving to sit beside him. "It's just.. The day you officially moved out, my dad and I got talking and he came up with this idea."

"I'm listening," Mickey said, though he didn't see what could be done to solve anything that had gone wrong in his life.

"He suggested that when I leave," Ian said and Mickey's heart sank on the words 'when I leave'. "You move in to my room."

"No," Mickey shook his head.

"What? Why not?"

"I can't just move in to your room, Ian," Mickey said. "That's horrible."

"How is it horrible?" Ian enquired. "Mickey, do you think I feel at ease knowing you're in some strange hotel room, surrounded by strangers? At least if you were with my dad, I would be a little more relaxed out there."

Out there. That was what they had started calling New York. Out there seemed like a million miles away to Mickey.

"Ian, I just don't want to intrude—"

"You wouldn't be intruding!" Ian said. "You're practically family. Seriously. Say yes. Please? I'll do anything."

"Anything?" Mickey raised one eyebrow, but his heart wasn't in it.

"Anything," Ian nodded. "Honestly, if you're not comfortable with it, say no, but I would love it if you said yes. We could move you in tonight. We could spend the last few nights together. We'd sleep better together, right?" Ian asked, hopefully.

Mickey looked down at his hands, trying to think. He wasn't sure if spending the last few nights with Ian would be a good thing, because it hurt to know they only had such a short amount of time left. On the other hand, he didn't want to spend the last few nights without Ian..

"Okay," Mickey nodded. "And I definitely wouldn't be a hassle?"

"Shut up and kiss me," Ian said, reaching across and trying to tug him forward by his shirt.

"Ian," Mickey said. "Seriously, tell me. Am I overstepping?"

"Baby," Ian said, firmly. "I need you to be safe, okay? Regardless of how much you think going out there is going to make me forget about everything here, it doesn't matter. You're wrong. I'm going to spend all my time wondering what you're doing and if you're getting on okay. At least if you have my dad there, as someone you can go to for whatever you need, I'll be able to have some sort of solace."

"Really?"

"Really," Ian clarified.

"Okay."

Ian grinned and began pulling him forward again, but Mickey stopped for a second time. "What now?"

"Baby is mine," Mickey told him, with a smile. "You had babe and I had baby, remember?"

"I remember," Ian smirked. "Now can I kiss you?"

"One more thing."

"What?"

"Tell me you love me?" Mickey choked out.

"I love you," Ian told him and Mickey smiled, his golden syrup eyes falling on Ian's ocean blue ones.. "I'll tell you every second until I leave if it'll make you smile like that."

Mickey closed the space between their lips this time and he kissed him slowly, savouring every moment, because moments like these, were the ones that you didn't forget, no matter what and Mickey wanted the last few days to be filled with those unforgettable moments.

Maybe he would be left behind, but he would not be forgotten.