Part Forty-Four: the Photograph

It's been two weeks and no one has seen or heard from Ian. His family doesn't seem to care. They live next door to that do-gooder cop and haven't even asked for his fucking help in finding him. What if he is hurt somewhere? What if he's dead in a ditch somewhere? But no, it's as if his life doesn't mean shit to them.

He's gone. He's really gone. He couldn't have actually joined the army. He's only seventeen. There is no fucking way. I stand on a side walk staring at the Gallagher house. Three times I went to the door and asked for Ian. Debbie answered all three times and not once even invited me inside.

That's why I had to break in. I have no idea what compelled me to do it, but it was surprisingly easier than I thought it would be. I just open the back door. They don't lock their fucking house? I know exactly where Ian's room is. I don't expect him to be there, but for some reason I still have a swooping sensation in my stomach.

Ian's bed is the one next to the wall. It looks like someone has been sleeping in his bed and it's not Ian. I sit down on it. I'm losing my mind. It doesn't feel like him. I get up and start opening drawers. I find a shirt I've seen Ian wear at Kash 'N' Grab. I hold it to my face and breathe in. I am so fucking creepy.

"This reminds me of that scene in Brokeback Mountain only your ex-boyfriend isn't dead," says Ryan. I jump about a fucking foot. "Mickey, I'm sure this crosses some sort of line. Stalking your ex-boyfriend?"

"I just need to feel close to him. Don't fucking judge me."

"Oh no, I'm judging you a hundred ways to Sunday. You could have stopped him if you had just gone to the bus station like I told you. But you had to be a bitch baby about it. Now he's gone, and what have we learned?"

"We learned: fuck off."

"I believe we learned that Ryan is always right."

On top of the dresser is a photo of Ian. He's wearing a beanie and giving the finger. He looks so…hot. Fuck, I am losing it. I've never called Ian hot. He is hot. Calling a guy hot is so gay. Fuck. I hold the picture to my chest, and flip Ryan off. I put the picture in my back pocket.

"Oh, you're stealing a picture. It is a lot less creepy than taking a fucking shirt. Good one, Mickey. You're original."

"Fuck you. What do you know about it?"

"I know you're pining for him and that's hard for you because this is your fault."

"It's not my fault," I say. I guess it is.

"Oh, but it is."

I don't respond. I take the picture out of my pocket and stare at it. I run my finger over Ian's cheek as the urge to fucking kick something settles in my stomach. I fight back a tear and look at Ryan.

"I fucked up."

"Yeah, you did."

I hear someone moving in the house. When I look up I see Carl Gallagher coming into his room. He drops his backpack on the floor and pulls a taser out of what appears to be thin air, but he probably just had it hidden.

"What the fuck are you doing in my house?" Carl asks.

"I…uh…oh fuck," I say. Then Carl's eyes land on the picture. He softens. I hope he's not smart enough to put two and two together. "Why do you want that?"

"I'm going to make copies and hand them out to people. Maybe someone has seen Ian," I lie through my teeth. Ryan looks impressed and disappointed.

"Fiona doesn't want to draw attention to it. She thinks Ian just needs some time to get over the guy who broke his heart."

I can feel Ryan's eyes drilling into my head. Fuck off, Fat ass, I know.

"Can I have this or not?" I ask.

"Sure. There are better pictures of Ian," says Carl sitting on Ian's bed. "Let me look." He looks under the bed. He pulls some of Ian's old porn out. My eyes widen. Jesus, Ian. That's a lot of fucking porn. "I don't get how gay guys do it. I mean, is it comfortable to have someone's giant wiener up your ass?"

Feels pretty fucking good, I try not smile, but I can't help it. Carl is like younger version of me. This kid is going to end up in juvie before he's thirteen.

"I wouldn't know," says Ryan.

"Ian must have liked it. Did you know he was gay?" Carl asks.

"Yeah," says Ryan. He's speaking for both of us now. If I speak it'll incriminate me. Ryan tells me I speak too fondly of Ian.

"I only recently found out. I felt lied to. I mean, I'm his brother. Why did he think he needed to hide it from me? But I'm over it. I realized that in our neighborhood, being gay could get Ian killed. So he was protecting himself. It must be fucking tough to live like that."

Holy shit. Carl Gallagher gets it. I want to tell him that there was a guy in the neighborhood who wouldn't have allowed any harm to come to Ian and that this guy would have protected him, but I can't do it.

"If you find him, send him home," says Carl.

I guess that is his cue for us to get the fuck out of here before Fiona gets home. Ryan and I don't wait to be told twice. I tuck Ian's picture safely into my back pocket and led Ryan through the confusing Gallagher house.

Out on the street, Ryan and I walk towards the Alibi. When we get there Ryan questions my motives. I've been thinking about this place a lot. Ian is tied to this place. He's friends with Kev and Frank used to drink here. I don't know why but I feel like it will bring me closer to him.

"Mickey, I think you should just move on. Go home to your wife, or better yet, find a new guy."

"I can't find a new guy," I tell Ryan. Ian ruined me for anyone else. I'm also not gay. Finding a new guy means admitting I like guys. Ever since I was in middle school I have been telling myself it's a phase, it'll pass. But like my crush on Ian, it never did.