Part Thirty-Six: Drunken Lullabies

I stayed in bed for three days in a row after the nightmare happened. It was due to fatigue, and emotional and physical pain that kept me bound to bed. I'm still fucking sore all over, but in all the pain and all the bruising I can't stop thinking about Ian's reaction.

If I had it my fucking way I would never leave this bed unless I had to shit or eat. And right now I have to do neither. I have had my slew of visitors. My dad has been the most frequent. He pops in to tell me I'm a disappointment and that he'll kill Ian if I ever see him again.

Ian. I can't help but smile. But my smile disappears when I see him with a gun pointed at his head. I spring up in my bed panting.

"Hey," says a familiar voice. I look over and fat ass Ryan is sitting on the couch in my bedroom. He's actually fucking waving at me. I must be dreaming. How the fuck is he even here?

"How are you even here?"

"They let me out early. I have to a get a job and a place to live, but I'm free."

"No, I mean, how the fuck are you in my room?"

"Oh, Mandy let me in. You look like shit."

I don't reply.

"I've had a rough fucking week."

"I know. Ian told me."

"When did you see Ian?" I ask a little too eagerly. I mentally kick myself. What if Dad hears we said his name?

"About three days ago, he came to visit me. He told me everything. I had to check on you. How the fuck are you?"

Miserable. Lonely. Depressed. Horny. Take your fucking pick.

"How the fuck do you think I am?" I light up a cigarette. I'm practically shaking. I haven't had one in days. I punch a fucking hole in my wall in frustration. Ryan doesn't even flinch. He just stares at me. He does not pity me. He understands me. Fuck you, Fat ass.

"So what are you going to do?" Ryan asks.

"About what?"

"About Ian," Ryan asks.

I've thought of nothing but this for three fucking days. I just want to run to him and kiss him and do all the things we used to do, but I can't. My dad threatened to kill him. My dad doesn't just threaten. He carries them through. Losing Ian is not an option.

"I'm going to make him hate me," I say.

"Why?"

"Because if he hates me he'll move on, he'll find someone else and he'll be safe."

"But what about you?"

"What about me?"

"You can't sit there and tell me that you'll be 100% okay with seeing Ian in the arms of another man. You can't tell me that you wouldn't spend a long time pining for him and wanting to be with him. If you told me those things, I would call bull shit. You can't do it."

"Fuck you."

I break down. Ryan has never seen me cry before. He doesn't judge. He doesn't try to touch me or comfort me. He just sits across the room from me while I let it out. I don't cry often and when I do it's short sobs. When I am left with just sniffles I look at Ryan.

"What do you think I should do?"

"Give it some time. Try to stay away from him for a while until your dad cools off."

"Staying away is something I never learned to do when it comes to Ian Gallagher," I say taking a drag off my cigarette.

"You're going to have to try, Mick, at least for a while."

"I fucking know that." I punch another hole in the wall. "Can we get some beer?"

"You want to drink your sorrows away?" Ryan asks, "If you did that you'd succumb to alcoholism, because, friend, you could not drink enough to take away your pain and sorrow."

"I can fucking try."

I send Ryan into Kash 'N' Grab for beer. I wait outside half a block down. Ryan carries three six packs and tosses me cigarettes. "He knows me, dipshit. He asked if I was hanging out with you." Ryan says.

"What did you say?"

"I said I was looking for a job and thought this might be a good neighborhood for it."

"And what did he say?"

"He offered me a job at the store. So I took it."

You fat motherfucker. I glare at him. It doesn't faze him. I take my first beer and crack it open. We go back to my house and drink. I feel myself getting a little carried away, but I don't stop drinking. By nightfall I am drunk off my ass.

"I fucked Ian Gallagher," I tell Ryan. "I fucking loved it."

"You are so wasted," says Ryan, "No more beer for you."

"I think I have feelings for him."

"That's obvious," says another voice in the room. I don't know who it is. Everything is getting really blurry. "Should we give him some water and sober him up? I swear if Terry hears this he'll fucking kill him, he's being really loud."

"Let's take him outside," says Ryan. They carry me outside. I can barely walk.

"I really fucking love kissing him. He tastes like cigarettes and pancakes. And his dick is this big." I hold out my arms as far as they can go. I stumble over and someone catches me. "And sometimes he lets me put in my mouth. I like that too."

"God, he's chatty when he's drunk."

"I wanna tell him that he's feally rucking hot. I mean rully feacking hot."

I try to walk, but I don't get very far. I try again and I manage to stand up. I try to locate the Gallagher house and walk in that direction. Ryan and whoever chases after me.

"How many drinks did he have?"

"I lost count," says Ryan.

I don't remember falling asleep or getting into a car. The sun is shining into the window of an old car that smells like death and shit. It's been stripped for parts. I cover my eyes to shield them from the sun. My head is fucking killing me.

"Good morning, Star Shine," says Ryan who is holding out a beer and a donut for me. Next to him is Iggy. They're both munching on donuts in a Donut Bank box. I take a sip of the beer and down the donut as if it's the last donut I'll ever have.

"What the fuck am I doing under the L?" I ask.

"You got really drunk so we brought you out here so Terry wouldn't hear you profess your love to Ian Gallagher," says Iggy.

"I did what?"

"You were spouting out some pretty incriminating shit," says Ryan. Shit. Fuck. Damn.

"I guess now you know," I point at Iggy.

"I've known for a while," says Iggy, "It's pretty obvious. If anyone is in a room longer than two minutes with the two of you they'll know. It's how you look at him and how he looks at you. The sexual tension is there. The smile you get on the corner of your mouth when you think about him. It's all there."

Fuck. I try to stand up but I fail epically. I sit back down and take an Aspirin that Iggy offers me. I have never been that drunk before. I've been drunk, just not at that level before.

"What the fuck am I going to do?"

"Stay away from Ian Gallagher," says Iggy.

"I don't want to stay away from him," I tell them, "I want to see him. I want to let him know I'm okay. I need to see him."

I take off walking toward Ian's house. I stumble once or twice. Suddenly I'm on the ground and Iggy is on top of me. He won't let me up until Ryan brings his fat ass over. Iggy gets off me and I try to bolt, but they restrain me.

"I NEED TO SEE HIM!" I cry out. I have tears in my eyes. "Just give me five minutes. Please."

"No," says Iggy.

I elbow him in the stomach and stand up ready to fight him. Ryan steps between us.

"Five minutes," Ryan says, "Then you have to distance yourself, Mickey."

Ian Gallagher is in his bedroom changing. I stand outside the house and stare at the back of his head in the window. I can't go inside. They're right. I have to stay away from him. For his own good. I can't be with him if it means his life.

"Aren't you going to knock?" Iggy asks.

"No," I say. I kick a beer can on the street and walk away with my head down.

A/N: I actually have no idea what Mickey is like drunk, but I wanted to play around with something.