Chapter 37:

"My dad wants me to go home and talk with him," Mickey told Frank after he had hung up. He was still shaking a little, his fists clenched to stop himself from crumbling.

"Well," Frank said. "Is that a good thing?"

Mickey shrugged. "No idea," he said. "He says to wait until he has time, so I don't know when that will be."

Frank nodded. "At least it's something, right?"

"I guess."

Frank smiled, gave him a pat on the shoulder, then left the room. Mickey wished he could call Ian and tell him about it, but he was sticking to his word. He would do this by himself.

"Do you want me to go with you, Mickey?" Frank asked, following Mickey out into the hall. "I can leave the garage for an hour, or so."

"No, it's fine," Mickey smiled, gratefully. "Thank you, though. I'll be okay."

"Okay," Frank looked sceptical as he opened the front door. "Call if you need anything."

"I will. Thanks, Frank," Mickey said. "I'll see you later."

"Good luck."

Mickey walked outside and shut the door behind him, then got in his car and headed for his parents' house. It had been three weeks since his father had called him and said he wanted to talk. He'd called him the night before saying he wanted to see him today and Mickey said he'd be there after his shift at the coffee shop.

Mickey had no idea what he could possibly want, but he was about to find out.

"Your mother wants to talk with you," Mickey's dad said, flatly when he opened the front door. He didn't even really look at Mickey, simply opened the door, gave him a look of disapproval, then spoke. "She's in the living room. I'll be in the kitchen."

Mickey watched as his dad walked away. He stood there for a couple of heartbeats, then walked inside and shut the door. He headed into the living room and found his mother sitting on the sofa, studying her nails.

"Um, mom?" Mickey said, quietly and she looked up, quickly.

"Oh, Mickey," she said. "Sit down."

Mickey sat down facing her. They both just sat there staring at one another for a few moments, then his mom spoke. "Are you still...?" she trailed off, but Mickey knew what she was asking.

"Am I still gay?" he said. "Yes, mom, I'm still gay. Always have been, always will be."

"Oh," she said, looking disappointed. Mickey was used to that look by now, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. "What a shame."

He felt sick, sitting there in the familiar room, the room where there had been more fights than happy times. The room in which his dad had bruised his ribs so badly when he was fourteen, that he couldn't even sit up properly for over a week. He shuddered at the memory and all he wanted to do was leave there and never go back.

"Was there something you wanted?" Mickey asked, finally.

"No," she told him. "I thought that by now you'd have realised how wrong it is, what you're doing."

Mickey rolled his eyes, almost instinctively. "There's nothing wrong with me being gay, mom," Mickey said, standing up. "What is wrong, however, is how I've had to live for the past year or so. Nice talking to you—actually, no. It hasn't been nice talking to you. It's been the opposite of nice. So, good luck, mom. Thanks for nothing."

Mickey walked out leaving her sitting there and went into the kitchen, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. It was time to face his dad now. He found him sitting at the dinner table with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Have a seat, Mickey," he said, not showing any emotion. "I have a proposition for you."

Mickey sat down.

"Are you oka—"

"I don't want to talk about it right now," Mickey said, rushing past Frank and heading towards the stairs. Frank was watching him, face twisted into a concerned expression, his eyes wide and filled with worry.

"Mickey, is everyth—"

"Can I tell you about it later?" Mickey asked, stomach aching. "Please?"

Frank eyed him curiously for a moment, then nodded. "All right," he said. "Shout if you need anything."

Mickey gave him a small nod, then continued on down the stairs. He shut the door behind him and collapsed down onto Ian's bed and buried his head in the pillows, breathing in his scent, wanting more than anything to have him there to hold him and tell him it would be okay.

He almost did it, almost called Ian. He took his phone from his pocket and brought his number to the screen. His shaking thumb hovered over the green button, but he stopped himself, because he didn't want to burden Ian with his sob story.

Instead, he took the pillow in his arms and held it close to him. He closed his eyes and cried himself to sleep, because things had just gotten a hundred times worse.

"Dad?" Ian answered his phone. Ian always worried when his dad called because he always imagined the worst. Especially since Frank had had heart problems. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, fine," Frank assured him and Ian sat back, sighing with relief. "I just thought I should give you a call and tell you about Mickey."

Ian's heart sank. He hadn't heard from Mickey, still. He hadn't stopped calling, in hopes that he would eventually pick up, even if it was just to tell him to leave him alone. "Mickey?" he asked, a little breathlessly. "Is he—"

"It's nothing fatal, Ian, calm down," Frank said, but Ian couldn't help it. He was worried. "It's just that.. Have you talked with him?"

Ian sighed. "No," he said. "He doesn't pick up. Ever."

"Well," Frank said, sighing a little, too. "His dad asked to meet him a few days ago." Ian sat up. "He hasn't really come out of the room since. I've started sending his meals down."

Ian caught his bottom lip between his teeth and shook his head. "Can't you make him tell you what happened?" he asked, voice a little high, though he knew no one could make Mickey do anything by force. "He won't talk to me, so I can't ask. Dad—"

"Ian," Frank said, calmly. "Ian, calm down. I'll try talk to him again later. I just thought you'd want to know."

Ian sat back and shut his eyes, exhaling, his mind racing with all these crazy thoughts and bad things and speculations. He opened his eyes again, then and said, "Do you think he hates me, dad?"

"Hates you?" Frank exclaimed. "Are you nuts? The kid's head over heels for you, Ian. He's just going through a hard time. He'll come round."

"You think so?" Ian uttered, quietly, hopefully.

"I hear how he talks about you, Ian," Frank said, softly. "I know so."

Mickey shut off the computer when he heard a soft rap on Ian's bedroom door. He got up, stretched a bit and went to open the door. He found Carole Hudson standing there, a concerned look on her face.

"Mickey, honey," she said, tilting her head a little. "I—I was just wondering if you wanted to come upstairs, instead of being stuck down here on your own?"

Mickey knew that Frank had called her and asked her to come over, just to see if she could get any response from him. He twisted his mouth into a smile.

"Um, thanks," he said. "I just—yes."

"So, that's it?" Frank asked, after Mickey had told him everything that had happened with his parents. "It's—"

"Over," Mickey nodded. "Totally and completely over."

Carole and Frank exchanged a blank look then and Mickey just sat there, breathing steadily. "Mickey," Carole said, finally. "You don't seem.. Well. Upset. Don't you think—"

"I'm done being upset over people who could give less than a crap about me," Mickey shook his head. "I've been stuck in this—this rut and I didn't know how to get out of it, but I see it now. I've figured it all out. Which is why I have to leave Ohio, leave all the bad things and the hatred and the accusing stares and the bad feelings that are here." He paused, trying to keep everything straight in his head. "Oh!" he said, suddenly. "Not you guys. You've been amazing. Without you, I would have lost every last ounce of faith in the world, in humanity. Thank you for everything."

Carole looked alarmed and Frank was staring at Mickey like he had just announced he was going to go skipping through town wearing nothing but his boxer shorts, throwing confetti and reciting Shakespeare sonnets.

"Mickey, where are you going to go?" Frank asked finally.

"I don't know yet," Mickey said, smiling. "I just need to leave."

"Will.. Will we ever see you again?" Carole asked, dramatically. Mickey could see now why Finn and Rachel made such a good couple.

The truth was, he didn't know. He assumed he would end up back in Ohio at some point, he just wasn't sure when or what the circumstances would be. He shrugged, still smiling and exhaled. "I have to do this. It's the only way to escape the past."

"You can't escape the past," Frank shook his head. "Not really. And what about Ian?"

Mickey frowned, then. Ian was the one thing he knew he couldn't ever really run away from. "I don't know," he muttered. "He's better off without me. I'll—I'll call him. Eventually. Let him know I'm okay. I just—This is for the best. I can feel it."

"When are you leaving?" Frank asked.

"Tomorrow."

"You keep checking your watch," Frank noticed the next day at dinner. "Are you in that much of a rush to get out of here?"

"No," Mickey said, quickly. "No, of course not. I'm waiting on a phone call."

"A phone call," Frank repeated, slowly.

Mickey nodded. "From my dad," he provided. "I did some thinking last night and I gave him a call. He said he'd call me back before five, let me know."

Frank laid his fork down and looked right at Mickey. "Let you know what?"

Mickey took a deep breath, exhaled, then looked up to meet Frank's eyes. "Okay," he said, carefully. "I was going to tell you after he called, but I guess now is as good a time as any."

"Okay."

Ian sat in the back corner of his English class, twirling his pen between his fingers and not listening to the lesson being given. He needed to get out of class so that he could call his dad again and ask how Mickey was doing. The last he had heard, Mickey still hadn't told Frank the full story. Ian had tried calling every day, but to no avail. Mickey was impossible, but that didn't change the fact that he loved him.

It didn't help that today was Valentine's day. Everywhere he looked there were paper hearts and cupid cut-outs and other incredibly cheesy, romantic objects. He sighed and looked at the clock again, willing the hands to move. He began to pack his things away quietly when it was two minutes before the end of class and then when the class was excused, Ian leapt up out of his seat in a flash and headed for the door. When he was half-way down the hall, he heard a loud voice behind him.

"Ian!" it said. "Ian! Wait up!"

Ian slowed, then turned to look for the person calling his name. He saw him then, his bright eyes and hair and crooked smile. Ian waited until he reached him.

"Hey, Leo, what's up?" Ian said, moving to the side, so as not to block the way.

"Can I ask you something really quickly?" Leo asked, pushing his dirty blonde hair out of his eyes. "It'll only take a sec."

Ian's thumb ran over his phone in his pocket and he sighed quietly to himself. "Yeah," he told Leo. "Yeah, sure."

Mickey stood in the elevator as it went upwards, stopping at every floor, even though he had only selected the second last one. He sighed and stood back against the mirrored wall, heart racing in his chest. He looked across at the mirror facing him. He looked okay. At least, he hoped he did. His eyes looked a little tired, but other than that he looked healthy.

He hoped he was in the right place. He studied the scrap of paper he had in his pocket again, just to make sure, because it would have been insanely embarrassing if he had ended up in the wrong building.

It seemed to be the right one. He waited until the elevator came to a holt with a small ringing sound, then stepped outside onto the narrow, creme coloured corridor. He looked at the piece of paper one more time, shrugged, then began walking. He looked at the number on each door as he went, counting down until he came closer and closer. He stopped when he saw it and his heart beat sped up. This was it.

He took a deep breath, then went to take a step towards the door, but stopped, because the door in question opened inwards and two people were standing there. One walked out. He was tall, dark blonde hair, tanned, dressed casually. The other person stayed standing in the doorway, his bright blue eyes unlike any other, his hair perfectly styled, his skin smooth and pale as milk. Mickey's breath caught in his chest, as his heart ached a little. He was stuck to the spot.

Then the glistening eyes were on his and they were wider than ever and Mickey's heart skipped a beat and he felt dizzy. He could only stare back, his body incapable of doing anything else. He concentrated on those eyes, those bright, cyan eyes, so familiar and calming and mind blowing that they kept him grounded, kept him from hitting the ground, kept him from falling apart and from releasing those trapped tears and from blurting out all those words he had locked away inside of him.

He didn't drop his gaze from those baby blues as he took a deep breath, then stepped cautiously forward into the light. He held his breath until his name was spoken in an almost-whisper.

"Mickey."

And then he let himself breathe.

"Mickey," Ian breathed out, unable to believe his eyes. He had to reach out and hold onto the door handle to keep himself upright, because this was the last thing he had expected.

Ian realised then that he was holding his breath. He couldn't take his eyes off of Mickey, his golden eyes shining brighter than ever, his face perfect and gorgeous, his cute little dress sense still intact. Ian's heart did a backflip in his chest and he felt nervous. He felt his body quivering a little as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Wh-what are y-you.." he trailed off, stammering. "Mickey," he said again, unable to say anything else, because other words would just come out an incoherent muddle.

Mickey spoke then, his voice sounding a little scratchy. "Hi," he said, quietly. "Did I.. Did I waste my time coming out here?"

Ian stared at him blankly for a long time, then say Mickey's bright eyes flickering to Leo, who he had forgotten was there. Ian's mouth developed into a small 'o' shape, then he tried to speak, but Leo got there first.

"Oh, you mean me!" he said, grinning at Mickey. "No, dude. Naw, I'm straight, man. Girlfriend's downstairs in the car. I was just borrowing some notes." He held up the notebook Ian had just given him. "I was just going. Thanks, Ian, see you Monday and hey," Leo smiled, walking by Mickey and giving him a light pat on the shoulder. "Nice meeting you. Later."

Ian watched him go, then looked back at Mickey. His face looked a bit pale and he looked sort of tired, but he was still the same beautiful boy Ian had left back in Ohio. He was looking at him now, his expression unreadable.

"Do you want to come inside?" Ian said, because he couldn't think of what else to say. It was strange. They'd seen each other a little less than 6 months ago and they'd talked briefly once or twice, but Ian felt nervous now, with Mickey standing there in front of him, his eyes locked on him, burning into him.

"Uh, yeah," Mickey said, shaking his head a bit. "Sure."

Ian stood back and let Mickey in, thankful that he had tidied up the night before. Mickey glanced around the apartment as he followed Ian into the small living space.

"It's very you," Mickey told him, then.

"That a good thing or a bad thing?" Ian joked.

"Good," Mickey replied. "Definitely good."

Ian smiled to himself as he walked into the small kitchen. "Want anything?" he asked. "I mean.. Did you just get here?"

"Uh, about an hour ago," Mickey nodded.

"Hungry?" Ian asked. "Thirsty? Both?"

"Both," Mickey smiled a bit and Ian's heart skipped a little. "But can we talk first?"

Ian stopped moving and just looked at Mickey. "Yeah," he nodded. "Yeah, we can do whatever you want."

Mickey outstretched a hand and Ian looked down at it. "If you don't want to touch me, it's okay," Mickey nodded. "I'll understand."

Ian didn't think twice, he simply reached out, grabbed Mickey's hand then tugged him forward and flung his arms around him. He heard Mickey sigh a bit against his body, his arms embracing Ian, too. Ian breathed in his scent, taking comfort in it, because God, he really missed this.

"God, I missed you so much," Ian breathed, tightening his grasp.

"Me, too," Mickey replied.

Finally, they let go, slowly and when Ian looked at Mickey, he saw that his face was twisted, like he was trying not to cry. "Um," Ian cleared his throat. "You wanted to talk."

Mickey nodded. Ian gestured for him to follow him to the sofa. They sat down beside one another, but not so that they were touching. "Okay," Mickey said. "Before we say anything else, I just need to know. Do you still love me?"

Ian spoke immediately. "Of course, I still love you," he said. "I'll never stop."

"Okay," Mickey said, nodding, like he was trying to get everything into order inside his head. "Okay, good. I love you, too, by the way."

Ian nodded, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach.

"Okay, so," Mickey went on. "I talked to my dad a little while ago and um, basically, he wants me out of his life. He is literally buying me out of his life."

"Mickey, that's awful. I—"

"No, see, I thought so at first, too, but it's not," Mickey said. "Well, I mean, I guess it is in the sense that it's a horrible thing to do, but after I thought about it, I figured it's not all bad. I mean, I've got the upper hand here. If I step back into his life and act like he's my father, it destroys him—or he thinks it does, anyway. Basically, he's giving me huge—and when I say huge, I mean huge—amounts of cash, just to deny the fact that I'm his son. Don't look at me like that!" Ian just stared. "I mean, yes, it's awful. It is, but he's never really been a proper father to me anyway, right? So this isn't all bad."

"I guess," Ian nodded, understanding. "But doesn't it hurt?"

"At first, yes," Mickey admitted. "At first I thought everything had gotten worse. I thought my life was over and I locked myself away for a few days, but after a while, I thought about it and I realised that they obviously aren't losing sleep over me, so why should I lose sleep over them, you know? Why should I care about them when they don't care about me?

"So, I had this plan. I was going to leave Ohio. I had no idea where I was heading, or what I would do when I got there, I just knew I had to leave. And I told your dad and Carole and they were sort of on the fence about it, but I was determined. But I went to bed that night and I kept thinking about you. I mean, you're always on my mind, but I just.. I felt like there was something telling me to go to you. So I called my dad and I made a deal with him. I told him I'd agree to his little deal if he got me a last minute ticket out here. It's more expensive if you book late, obviously and he protested a little bit, but he gave in eventually. So I told your dad and he gave me your address and he seemed happy about it. Even helped me pack my things away. I came out here and I found you and.. I thought I had wasted my time, when I saw the guy, but I mean, that was just me being insecure and expecting the worst. Now, I just need to explain myself, make you understand everything."

"Okay," Ian nodded. "But.. This is it? You're here for good?"

"If you want me," Mickey shrugged one shoulder. "If not, I'll understand."

"You're asking me if I want you?" Ian asked, eyes wide. "Really? After I've called you every single day since I left? I thought you were the one who didn't want me."

"No way," Mickey said. "No, I've never stopped wanting you. Not for a second." Ian said nothing, just let Mickey go on. "I understand if you can't forgive me, I'm not asking you to. I just want to explain what I was feeling. I was selfish and horrible to you. I'm sorry. I should have answered your calls, I should have spoken to you for as long as you wanted to speak. I was just.. I was scared and I didn't know what to do. I know that's no excuse, Ian. I just felt like everything was slipping away, you know? And I thought if I kept in contact with you, you'd slip away eventually, too and then I'd be left with nothing at all. I mean, yeah, I was left with nothing anyway, but it would have hurt so much more to lose you to someone else. I know that's selfish and ridiculous, because I didn't think of what you might want. I should have known you still wanted me and part of me did know that, but I was still scared that how you felt about me would go away. I shouldn't have done what I did, Ian. I'm so sorry."

"I forgive you," Ian told him. "I can see where you were coming from and I get you've had a lot going on, so don't worry. You're here now, right?" Mickey gave him a small nod. "Where are your things?"

"Um, at a hotel," Mickey said. "I left them there before I came here."

"So, can we go get them?"

"W-what? Why?"

"Um, so we can move you in?" Ian said. "Unless you don't want that, in which case, I understand, too. I get it's a lot of commitment, but—"

"You.. You'd want me to move in?"

"Well, yeah," Ian shrugged. "I mean, I'm here all by myself. Rachel and Finn are in an apartment upstairs, so it's just me. I mean, there's a spare room which you can have, but it gets awfully lonely in that double bed of mine."

He saw Mickey's mouth tilt up at the corners and it reminded him of the old Mickey, the guy he had fallen in love with. "You really just forgive me?" Mickey asked. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," Ian nodded and he reached over and took Mickey's hand in his. "I'm glad you're here. I was on the verge of getting a plane ticket home just so that I could force you to speak to me again."

Mickey chuckled. "I probably would have left town."

Ian smiled and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "So, are we okay?" he asked. "We're good again?"

"We're good again," Mickey nodded. "If you're okay with that."

"I'm more than okay with that," Ian assured him. "Come on," he said tugging Mickey's arm gently. "Let me show you around."

"It's not that huge—"

"Oh, you don't want to see the bedroom?" Ian raised an eyebrow. "Oh, okay, then. Let's watch some TV and—"

"On second thoughts, wow, this place is like a maze, maybe a tour wouldn't be so bad."

Ian grinned and pulled Mickey up of the sofa and tugged him into his bedroom.

Ian's bedroom was also very Ian. Everything was matched and coordinated and neat and tidy and rich and elegant and stylish and everything that Ian was. Mickey looked around with a smile.

"You're right," he said, walking towards the rectangular window. "That bed must get pretty lonely all by yourself."

"You have no idea."

"I have some idea," Mickey smiled slightly. "I've been sleeping in your bed by myself for the past six months or so."

"Oh, right," Ian nodded. "I forgot about that. So, what do you think? Think you can handle sharing this room with me?"

"So long as you promise to make room over there for my hair gel," Mickey teased, gesturing across at the dresser, which was covered in various products and hairsprays and other cosmetics that Mickey couldn't make out from across the room.

"I'm not sure that's a promise I can make," Ian told him. "So, what's the plan out here?"

"Oh, I didn't tell you that part, did I?"

"What part?"

"Okay, so I locked myself in your room all yesterday and I applied to colleges, like, everywhere around here. I'm bound to get into one, right? Until then, I'll just get a job, or something."

"Really?" Ian smiled, moving closer to Mickey. "You mean it?"

"Of course," Mickey smiled and he reached out for Ian's hand again. "I have been the biggest asshole alive lately and I'm going to spend the rest of forever making it up to you."

"You don't have to," Ian said. "But since you're going to end up filthy rich, what with this 'deal' with your dad and all, then what the hey. I'll take what I can get."

Mickey tugged him forward and rested his hands on his hips. "You just want me for my cash."

"Among other things."

"My cash and my body," Mickey smiled, nose inches from Ian's. "First kiss in six months," he whispered, then slowly moved his head forward until his lips met Ian's. It started off slow, experimental, but then Mickey slid his arms around Ian's body and tilted him until he was flat on his back on the bed. Ian's hands found their way into Mickey's hair and standing there, entwined like that, it was as if they had never left one another. It all felt so natural, so familiar, so right.

After a long make-out session, they broke apart and just lay there, breathing, lips swollen, bodies hot, chests rising and falling quickly as they caught their breath. Mickey felt as if he had no more worries, which was new to him. He felt as if he had walked around his entire life with a heavy weight on his shoulders, his heart weighed down by some kind of bulky, metal object, but now, all of that was gone. He felt like he could really breathe, for the first time in a long, long time.

"Know what we should do?" Ian uttered, after a few heartbeats of silence. He leaned up onto his elbows and looked down at Mickey.

"Hmm?"

"We should go get your stuff, come back and get you acquainted with my sheets."

"Tempting," Mickey said. "But I was thinking we could just sort of.. Hang out, until tonight, obviously."

"Why?" Ian asked, quietly. He looked as if he was afraid he had done something wrong.

"Because it's been six months and I've missed just having you with me," Mickey told him. "Not because of any great reason. I mean, you still drive me crazy, but we've got plenty of time for that, right? I just want to hold onto you for a while."

Ian gave him a nod and a smile. "So, what about your things?"

"Awfully keen to get me moved in, aren't we, baby?" He saw Ian's smile grow when he called him baby. The baby/babe thing was one of those little things in their relationship, something that made it their very own.

"We're going to be like an old, married couple, I can see it now."

"Hey, some day, right?" Mickey smiled, moving to face his boyfriend. It felt good to refer to Ian as his boyfriend again.

"Some day what?"

"Some day we'll be an old, married couple."

"Seriously?" Ian asked and Mickey gave him a nod. "You think we can make it?"

Mickey grinned and pressed a light kiss to Ian's swollen, red lips. "I think we're strong, we love each other and we've already been through enough crap to last us a life time, yet we still came out winning. I think we can do anything."

"How wise of you."

"You're perfect," Mickey told him.

"I missed you."

"I'm sorry."

"I know," Ian nodded, slowly.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Hey, Ian?"

"Hmm?"

"Happy Valentine's day."

"It certainly is."

Mickey smiled. "I didn't even get you a card, or anything."

"You're here," Ian said. "That's more than enough."

"We should go do something for the day," Mickey said. "We can go get my things and then go get dinner, or something, because I haven't eaten anything since about 8AM."

"Sounds like a plan."

In the end, Ian and Mickey ate out first, then collected Mickey's things from the hotel. They spent a long time putting his clothes away and getting him settled into the apartment. Frank had called half way through and asked if everything had gone okay and Ian assured him that it had.

"You," Ian said, closing the closet door, once they had unpacked all of Mickey's things. "Have far too many bowties."

"You can never have too many bowties," Mickey smiled, collapsing down on the bed.

"I can't say I agree," Ian said, then went and lay down next to him, smiling, because it hadn't yet entirely registered that Mickey was actually here and was going to stay here, for good.

"Oh, hush, you love the bowties," Mickey smirked.

"Not as much as I love you," he said, leaning across and flicked the light switch off and they were left in darkness.

Mickey hit the switch on the lamp and the dim glow filled the room. He moved then and leaned over Ian, then bent his body until he was on top of him. "I missed you," he said, slipping one hand down to clasp the waistband of Ian's jeans.

"You missed me or you missed having sex with me?" Ian smirked up at Mickey.

"Both," Mickey replied. "Mostly you, though. I screwed up."

"We both did at one point or another," Ian told him.

"Yeah, but me more than you," Mickey said, smile fading. "I'm more sorry than you know."

"Stop apologising," Ian said. "And take my clothes off."

"God, I've missed you so—Jesus Christ, Mickey—so much," Ian panted beneath Mickey as he slipped in and out of him. Mickey felt as if he could feel Ian's heart beating against his chest. His hands were gripping Mickey's hips, pulling him closer. Mickey couldn't manage coherent words, he just moaned a little bit.

Ian's head was thrown back, his eyes half-closed, mouth half-open. Mickey was close now and he had to shut his eyes, because if he kept looking at Ian, that would be it, he wouldn't last another second. Mickey reached down and pulled Ian closer, never slowing the thrust of his hips. He reached between them and took Ian's erection in his hand and Ian whimpered and that was it, Mickey was gone. He came hard and fast inside Ian, his hips stuttering forward and Ian cried out and arched his back, pushing himself into Mickey's hand, needing him to finish this.

Mickey slowed his hips then and pumped his hand harder on Ian's cock. He looked amazing in the insipid light, as it cast shadows all over his pale, smooth skin. Ian's hands were gripping the bedspread beneath him, clawing at the material. Mickey could see him swallowing hard, his neck bared as he pushed his head further backwards. Mickey lowered his head and pressed his lips to Ian's wan neck. He sucked his skin into his mouth and his hand continued to push itself up and down Ian's hard length.

"Come for me," Mickey whispered against Ian's neck. "Come on, pretty boy. Come for me."

Mickey sucked the skin of Ian's neck into his mouth, marking him just over his pulse. It only took a couple more thrusts of Mickey's hand and Ian was coming, a loud whine escaping his lips, sounding suspiciously like Mickey's name. Mickey stopped the movement of his hand and let Ian go, before collapsing on top of him. He eased himself out of Ian's stretched opening and just lay there, on top of him, breathing laboured.

"You're amazing," he told Ian once he had caught his breath. He leaned up and looked down into those cerulean blue orbs. They were as spectacular as always and when he smiled, it went all the way to his eyes. "You're amazing and I'm crazy in love with you and all I want is to hold you for the rest of time."

"I love you," Ian said and his voice sounded a little thick. "I can't pinpoint the precise moment that I fell for you, but God, I'm just so in love with you. Promise me you're not going anywhere this time."

"I never went anywhere," Mickey told him, with a smile. "I never did and I never will."

Ian came out of the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Mickey was already in the bed, his back to Ian. He was facing the window, just staring out into the night. Ian smiled to himself and went closer, his legs wobbling a little. He ignored the slight burn when he walked (it had been a long time) and then he climbed into the bed next to Mickey and moved up close to him.

Mickey twisted back a little when Ian climbed in beside him. He smiled and his eyes were bright in the low glow of the moon slipping through the slightly ajar blinds. Mickey shuddered when Ian laced his arms around his body. He shifted until he faced him and wrapped his own arms around Ian's waist.

"This might be the best feeling in the world," Ian whispered.

"Definitely," Mickey agreed. "I think I've finally got it right."

"Got what right?"

"Everything," Mickey informed him. "Everything's right."

"Yeah," Ian agreed. "Everything's right."

Mickey reached down and took Ian's left hand in his. He pulled it up and out from underneath the covers. Ian watched as he pressed their bracelets together, the light of the silver moon clashing against them. Ian gave him a quizzical expression. Mickey smiled.

"Do you ever think about the beginning?" he asked, lacing his fingers with Ian's. "Like, way back at the start? I do sometimes. I was just thinking about it while you were moisturising, or whatever, in the bathroom. It's like.. This started off as a complete mess. You hated me—"

"Disliked," Ian corrected. "Never hated."

"Okay," Mickey smiled. "You disliked me. I was scared to admit I liked you and I acted like the biggest tool alive. And then it got better. I mean, yeah, it got worse again, but look at us now. We made it."

"Yeah," Ian nodded. "Yeah, I guess we did."

"It's weird, though, isn't it?" Mickey asked. "I mean, it feels the same as ever, but it feels different, too. I mean, we're still us, but we're us in New York city. This is surreal, baby!" He drew out the word 'surreal'.

"Yeah," Ian said. "It does feel a little surreal, but in a good way."

"In the best way," Mickey emitted.

"Right," Ian smiled, then took Mickey's wrist in his hand. He held the bracelet up to the light, so that they could read the words.

"I want to take you far from the cynics in this town

and kiss you on the mouth."

Ian locked his blue eyes on Mickey's golden-brown ones and gave him his best smile. "Guess we did that," he said. "Got away, made it here."

Mickey leaned across and pressed his lips to Ian's. "And now we've kissed each other on the mouth." Ian laughed and then Mickey was shoving his wrist into the light. "And," Mickey began. "Every time I look at you, I get knocked sideways, only now I'm not waiting for time to get rid of how I feel about you. I just want it to keep getting better and better and it is. I love you more with every passing day."

Ian tried to ignore the fluttering feeling inside his chest, but it was hard, especially with Mickey so close. "We have to be the cheesiest couple on the planet."

"I prefer the 'cutest'," Mickey told him.

"Okay, fine. The cutest, then," Ian corrected himself. "We should go to sleep," he said, letting Mickey's wrist go. Mickey's hands slipped back around him and Ian pressed the palms of his own hands to Mickey's bare chest.

"Okay," Mickey nodded and then he was moving closer and then pushing himself over Ian's body. "I have three things to tell you first."

"Mm, alright," Ian smiled up at Mickey, his eyes wild and bright in the pale light.

"Number one," Mickey said. "I love you."

And he pulled Ian's hand up and pressed a warm kiss to his knuckles.

"Number two," Mickey said, letting Ian's hand go. "I love you."

And he lowered his mouth and pressed the tiniest, butterfly kiss to Ian's lips.

Ian smiled. "And number three," Mickey uttered, finally. "I love you."

And he crushed his mouth down over Ian's and slipped his tongue past his teeth and kissed him like he hadn't kissed him in a hundred thousand years. When he pulled back, he smiled down at Ian. Ian smiled back and lifted a hand to Mickey's cheek.

"I love you, too."

And then Mickey caught Ian in his arms and pulled them both onto their sides. He moved in and wrapped himself around him and whispered that he loved him once more, before they both fell asleep, clinging to one another like that, their shadows entwined, as the opalescent moon fell out of the New York sky.

They opened their eyes when the sun came up and they smiled, because this was it. This was where they belonged, in one another's arms.

They were finally home.

That's it, that's the end. This is just the smut scene I skipped over from chapter 14, that someone asked me to write back then, so I'm adding it here :)

He's like a rollercoaster,

And I'm afraid of heights,

But still there's nothing to stop me from getting off this ride,

Oh, I just can't let you go.

Field Scene From Chapter 14:

"I remember the first time I ever came here," Mickey said, lying next to Ian in the soft grass, as they watched the stars above. "I was thirteen and my parents were fighting and I just needed to get away, because I felt like banging my head against a wall. I couldn't listen to them. I had to get out of there, so I just walked downstairs and left the house and they didn't even notice me going. I remember just walking, feeling dazed and dizzy and not knowing where I was going and then when I got too exhausted to go on, I just stopped and I found myself right out there, where we parked. I walked through and I just lay here for hours. I've been coming here ever since."

"And you've managed to never get murdered out here," Ian smiled a bit. "That's impressive in itself."

Mickey chuckled. "No one else knows I come here."

"Why me?" Ian asked, next to him. "Why bring me here?"

"It felt right," Mickey shrugged. "I wanted you to know something about me that no one else knew. Well. Other than the fact that we slept together."

Ian only nodded and Mickey hoped he understood what that meant, because he found it difficult to say it out loud.

"I have a feeling I'll be spending a lot of time here after tomorrow," Mickey said, then.

"I'm here for you, Mickey," Ian told him and Mickey resisted the urge to ask him how long he was willing to still be there for him. "For whatever you need."

Mickey leaned up and looked down at Ian, his bright blue eyes glistening in the light of the silver stars. "What I need," he told Ian, his voice thick. "Is you."

Something flickered in Ian's eyes and he seemed to understand. He gave a small inclination of his head and Mickey took that as a sign of permission to just go ahead and take him. He lowered himself down and caught Ian's mouth with his own, his heart hammering in his chest and kissed him like he was the source of everlasting life, like he just couldn't get enough.

And in a way, he couldn't. There was something about him that was just so God damned addicting and Mickey couldn't let him go, no matter how hard he , he didn't even want to let go, he just wanted to hold on forever and forget the rest of the stupid world and just be.

Ian was sucking on his bottom lip and Mickey was slipping his hands under his shirt and tracing invisible lines over his smooth, pale, white skin. Ian's knee shifted and Mickey lowered his crotch down to it and ground himself against it. Ian gasped a little against his lips and Mickey just needed him. He looked so amazing in the pale light and..

"I want to top," he told Ian, before he could stop himself. "Please, I just want.. I need.."

"Okay," Ian nodded, eagerly. "Okay, yes."

Mickey hadn't topped before and he could see the glimmer of nervousness in Ian's blue eyes, but he would take his time, do this right, make sure it was good for him. He groaned a bit, needing more, so he reached down and unclasped Ian's pants. He slid them down and Ian's chest stilled for a moment, then he breathed again.

It wasn't long before Mickey had stripped Ian completely of his clothes. He shrugged his own pants off and pretty soon, he was naked, too. Ian reached up and pulled him down and slipped his tongue into his mouth, hungrily, like he wanted Mickey as much as he wanted him.

Mickey couldn't wait another moment. He slipped his fingers into Ian's mouth and Ian sucked on them, understanding. In a few seconds, he slipped his hand down Ian's body and found his tight entrance. He'd fingered him more than once now, it was something he enjoyed more than he should have. Ian arched his back, his erection digging into Mickey's stomach. Mickey crooked his finger inside Ian and he whimpered under him, his eyes fluttering shut, those thick lashes dancing in the motion.

Mickey slipped his hand back out and got his fingers wet again, this time with his own mouth. He bent his hand back down and slid two fingers in this time and Ian hissed a bit, but protested when Mickey stopped, so he kept going. It took a little bit of time, but soon his was slipping his fingers in and out freely, without hurting Ian too badly. Then when Ian was stretched enough, he slid his fingers back out and Ian moaned a little at the loss.

Then Ian was pushing Mickey backwards. His back hit the cool blanket underneath them and Ian was hovering over him, his eyes a shade darker than usual. After a moment, Ian was moving lower. He pressed an open mouthed kiss to Mickey's chest, then trailed more hot kisses down his body until he reached his lower stomach. He kissed him there for a little while, then pushed himself up. He was looking down at Mickey's erection. Mickey watched as Ian licked his swelled lips, then fell down and pushed his mouth down over Mickey's cock.

"Oh, fuck."

Ian's mouth was wet and hot and sucking on him his hand gripping the base. Mickey flung his head back when Ian's tongue slid over the slit and he just wasn't going to be able to last if he kept on like that.

"Stop," he groaned. "I need.. Ian. Stop, or I'm d-done."

Ian removed his mouth and the cool air hit Mickey and he just needed to be inside Ian and fast. He moved himself upwards then pushed Ian gently down and lifted his legs.

"Slowly," Ian directed.

Mickey nodded. He wouldn't hurt him. He kneeled between Ian's thighs and positioned himself so that he was in line with his opening. He reached down and pressed himself against the tight, puckered hole, then slid in very, very slowly and low, guttural sounds were escaping Ian's swelled, pink lips.

"Okay?" Mickey asked.

"Fine," he told him. "Just.. Don't move, or I'll kill you."

Mickey smiled on instinct and he reached down to touch Ian's own erection, just while he got used to the intrusion.

"That's not helping," Ian choked out, when Mickey slipped his thumb over the slit of Ian's cock.

"Sorry," he said, but he wasn't sorry, not really. How could he be when Ian looked like that beneath him.

"Want to try moving?"

He didn't have to ask him twice. Mickey let Ian go and moved to rest a hand on either side of his body, then he pulled his hips backwards, then plunged forward again.

"Jesus Christ, fuck you, Mickey." Mickey couldn't help smiling at that. He slowed down again, but Ian shook his head. "No, no. Keep going. It'll be—shit—It'll be fine. Go."

Mickey nodded and began to slide himself in and out of Ian, carefully, wanting to just go faster, because this tightness and heat was driving him nuts and he just wanted to move in and out of him as quickly as possible, just needing him more than anything else in the whole world.

"Faster."

Mickey raised an eyebrow when Ian said that. "Are you s—"

"I said faster, Mickey, just do it."

He wavered there for a few moments, then obliged. He began to thrust himself in and out harder and faster and Ian was moaning really loudly and he tried to stop, because he really did not want to hurt him, no matter how good it felt, but Ian kept demanding he keep going and he wanted him to go harder and Mickey couldn't believe his ears.

He was so close, pushing himself in and out of Ian with ease, his mouth open wide. He was watching Ian's blue eyes through his lashes, his face, the way his mouth was opening and closing ad how he kept running his tongue, slowly over his lips.

"God, Mickey," Ian whined, then. "I'm about to—"

And then Ian was coming and Mickey was watching him open mouthed, because he'd come simply from Mickey being inside him and that amazed him. It was enough to send him flying over the edge, because then Mickey was coming, still inside Ian, shooting his load into his tight hole and they didn't even have any protection. Mickey couldn't bring himself to care about that, not at that moment, because Ian looked and felt and sounded so amazing, lying there, covered in his own come, his mouth wet and open, his milky lids covering those bright blue orbs.

Mickey eased himself out, then and bent to kiss Ian's lips. He kissed him back lazily, murmuring incoherent words against his mouth. Mickey pulled the second blanket up over then and rolled back to lie beside him. He looked up at the sky and caught his breath, grateful for the cool air and the calming moon and stars. His heart was beating way too quickly, but not because he regretted anything, just because Ian did things to him, things he could not begin to understand.

It was Ian who spoke first.

"Did we just—we just had sex in a field," he said, surprise evident in his voice. "Oh my God. We just had sex in a field.