A/N: Hey, so, don't know if you're enjoying this or not. I just thought I'd mention, because I know that some people might be think 'hey, what the fuck, this isn't Mickey,' but my Mickey isn't canon. My Mickey has B.P.D., and one of the symptoms of that is having such intense, albeit sometimes unstable, relationships. Some sufferers can feel like they can't be left, and some become suicidal if they are left. They may even tell the person this before they separate as an attempt to try and stay with the person. So, that's why Mickey is out of sorts in this story. Of course, not all sufferers have the same symptoms, before someone tries to point that out, but Mickey does have these ones to an extent.

All righty then, with that done and said,

Peace out, peeps, stay fab. (NOTE: when I wrote this, I was on an all-nighter, and I told you all to 'peach out')

Chapter Five

Ian's group session finished, and it seemed as though it had taken forever. Honestly, listening to the others speak had made him almost fall to sleep in his chair. When he got out, he found Mickey waiting outside for him, a small smile spread across his lips as he leant against the staircase.

"How was your first experience of group?" Mickey asked him, half-smiling.

Ian sighed, "Wanted to gouge my eyes out with a spork," he mumbled, "it didn't make sense. Half of the guys in there were painfully depressing and the other half seemed like they were on coke or something."

Mickey looked at him seriously, "And do you realise that you fall in to one of those two?" All that Mickey received from Ian was a hard stare and a small harrumph. "Ian, you're fuckin' sick, and you need to accept that and accept the help they're tryna' give you," Mickey told him.

"I'm not." Ian whispered, moving his hair out of his eyes with a sense of unease and nervousness.

"I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but you really are. We all are, and we all need the help. And if you wanna' get out of here, you need to take the help. I didn't when I first got in here. By the time I finally accepted it, I'd kept myself in here for an extra month and a half."

Ian didn't know what to say, he wasn't really sure what there was to say. So instead he just turned around and made his way up the stairs, continuing up to their room. Today had already been too much. The day had been both mentally and physically exhausting. Again, he was back on his bed and Mickey had followed him, a frown forming as he went.

"What the fuck are you doin'? We've had this conversation already today," Mickey threw his hands in the air.

"Please, just fuck off and go to your session; leave me alone."

Mickey scoffed, "Fuck you, then," and walked away from his younger roommate, leaving him to drift off.

"Hello? Ian?" A soft voice said as Ian felt a shaking on his arm. He groaned and tried to bat away the person in his sleep, desperately clinging on to his comfortable slumber. During his nap, everything was simple and calm. "Ian, wake up."

Rubbing his eyes and turning over, Ian found a small, dark-skinned women standing at his bedside. "Who the fuck are you?" He grumbled out, squinting at the obtrusive light.

"I'm Tanya, I'm your personal therapist. Your friend came and told me that you weren't in the best mood to attend. I thought I'd come to you seeing as it is your first session. This is always the most important one," She said as she moved towards James' bed. "Do you mind?" She asked, gesturing to the unmade bed, asking to sit. Ian shrugged, so she sat down and said "Now, Ian, how are you?"

"Tired. Pissed off. I shouldn't be here," he mumbled, knotting his fingers together underneath his bed sheets.

"Why do you think you shouldn't be here, Ian?"

"I'm not… I'm not sick. I'm not… I'm not like her…" he stammered out.

Tanya furrowed her brow, "Like who?"

"Monica."

Tanya looked through some sheets on her clipboard, "Oh, yes, that's your mother, isn't it? She was diagnosed with bipolar, like yourself."

Shaking his head viciously, Ian shouted "No! I'm not! I'm not like her! I wouldn't put them through that! I wouldn't do that to them! I'm not a let-down like she is!"

Tanya nodded her head and hummed, "You're right, Ian, you're not a let-down, you are a person who unfortunately is sick and unmedicated. That's why you're here, so we can help." Ian had started shaking his head, mumbling 'no' under his breath repeatedly, his fingers worrying the edge of his bedsheets. "Ian, we can't help you until you accept this fact. But I want to explain to you that this is not your fault. It's biological. You have no control over it. This is your body, and it's a genetic illness. Bipolar disorder runs in families. You never know, one of your siblings could develop bipolar themselves." Ian looked at her confusedly. "A parent having bipolar is like a predisposition," she cleared her throat lightly, "and it takes a trigger for the mania and the depression to kick in, like the death of a loved one, a breakdown in a relationship, anything like that. Do you understand me? None of this is your fault." She reassured him as he watched her avidly, suddenly seeming slightly interested. "Do you understand this, Ian?"

Ian never knew that. When Monica was diagnosed, he was too young to think to look it up, so he never really knew much about it. And once she had left, he hadn't cared enough to look it up. But… it… it wasn't his fault? "I- So, this… this doesn't make me like her?"

Tanya shook her head, "No. From what your family told me, Monica acted how she did because she was unmedicated. With the correct medication, you can live a normal life. So long as you take the medication in the correct doses and at the correct time consistently, your high and low periods will be nowhere near as drastic as Monica's, nor as bad as extreme as the one's you've experienced so far. And we'll help with this. First, we'll sort your medication, because it won't kick in immediately, and it mightn't be the correct dosage or combination. It will be trial and error." Tanya noticed the slight drop in Ian's expression, "But it will help, eventually we'll get it right, and it will help. We'll then teach you to recognise the symptoms of a manic or depressive state, so you can adjust your medication appropriately. Would I be right in saying that you're currently experiencing a depressive mood?"

Ian shrugged his shoulders, "I… I guess. I mean, I just wanna' sleep, and I didn't want to talk to you. I'm only doing it becau-" Ian stopped himself. Why was he talking to her?

"Go on, Ian," Tanya prompted.

"Because you've said that I can end up not being a waste of oxygen like Monica." He admitted.

"Nobody is a waste of oxygen, some people just can't be helped, because they won't take it." She cleared her throat. "Now that we know you're suffering from a depressive state, we can alter medication accordingly, to try and alleviate some of the symptoms of the depression. So, is there anything else you want to know?" Tanya asked him, after she had written a few notes on her clipboard.

Ian shook his head.

"Okay, so, each session I'll give you a sheet like this one to fill out." She handed him a sheet with a scale of negative five to positive five and several questions after.

How are you feeling/what are you thinking?

What have you done/do you intend to do about this?

"You'll just have to fill it out so we can assess your situation, and it will slowly allow us to identify the symptoms of your manic and depressive stages so that we can then teach you to look out for them, as well as helping us work out whether your medication is correct or not. Of course, your input will also be needed to understand that." She then handed him her pen and asked him to fill it out.

Ian looked at the sheet. How would you rate your mood?

He thought for a moment. He felt like a bag of shit, but there were times when he had felt even worse. With that in mind, Ian circled negative four. Then he circled negative three. "I can't decide. I kinda' wanna' put it in the middle, yeah?" Ian explained when he noticed Tanya observing his answers. She just nodded her head tentatively.

How are you feeling/what are you thinking?

Tired. Confused. Exhausted. Shitty.

The next question caused Ian to furrow his brow. "What does this one mean?"

Tanya exhaled gently and explained "For example, in a down period, some people self-harm, or think of self-harming, whilst others have coping techniques that differ from this, such as going for a nap, reading a book, or just trying to think about happy things. This question kind of allows us to monitor how you're coping, whether your medication is working, and if we need to put you under a higher monitor level for your own or the safety of others."

Ian nodded his head slowly. He didn't want to write everything, so he just stared at the question in confusion. When he noticed Tanya looking at his bandaged knuckles, he quickly wrote 'nothing' for that answer and handed it back to her. She looked at him for a moment before tucking the paper back on to her clipboard, taking her pen back. "Okay, well, I think we'll leave it there for now if you want. I'll go and notify the dispensary nurse of your medication change, and I'll leave you to relax, okay? Don't worry about your next timetabled slot, I won't have time to sort a task out for you, so don't worry about it and just come to the next one tomorrow."

Ian nodded his head, "Thanks," he whispered softly before laying down and tucking himself under his sheets again, closing his eyes and letting himself gently cry for a moment. If it wasn't the most relieving thing knowing that he wouldn't end up like Monica.

"Wasn't so bad, was it?" Ian heard a familiar voice saying as the owner got closer. Turning over to look towards the doorway, he saw Mickey walking towards him. He didn't say anything he just turned back over so he could wipe away his tears.

"Don't bother. You wanna' cry? Cry. I ain't gonna' judge you." Mickey said, sitting down on Ian's bed and looking at the redhead as he turned away from him.

"Your session finish early?" Ian asked Mickey, not turning to look at him.

"Didn't go. Remembered your room for this session, so I got your woman to come down. I sat outside. Wanted to make sure you were okay," Mickey said, putting a hand on Ian's arm and giving it a gentle squeeze.

Ian nodded his head gently, his eyes brimming with tears.

"Look at me," Mickey asked, shaking Ian's arm gently. "Ian, look at me."

Ian slowly rolled over to look at Mickey, his eyes sad and unsure.

"You're not a waste of oxygen," he said, looking Ian in the eye firmly. He bent down a pressed a gentle kiss to Ian's forehead.

"Thanks," Ian whispered. He then looked to the clock and saw that he still had time for a nap before lunch. He shuffled out of his pants and threw them out of the sheets before sitting up and pulling off his sweatshirt and t-shirt in one swift movement. And then he was laying down and rolling over to sleep.

"Mind if I join ya'?" Mickey asked gently, his voice slightly hopeful.

Ian shrugged his shoulders in a non-committal way but made space for Mickey to lay down next to him. He didn't really know where this was going. The situation confused him. He supposed it was because he had never really looked at a guy before in a romantic way. It wasn't something he felt opposed to, he had just never really had his eye taken by anyone. Ian heard fabric rubbing against itself, then he heard Mickey's clothes falling to the floor. A cold hand on his hip made Ian jump.

"Sorry," Mickey mumbled, taking his hand back.

"It's fine," Ian replied, closing his eyes. He exhaled gently when Mickey's cold hand returned to his hip. "Thank you," Ian whispered, "for… getting Tanya to come see me."

"No problem. You don't deserve to waste a month and a half like I did." Mickey paused, "How long are you in here for? I mean, like, was it court or hospital ordered? You comin' here."

"Four weeks. Court. Got admitted to hospital after I jumped out of a second storey window. Something about drugs, breaking and entering, something like that." Ian explained, his voice getting quiet with embarrassment.

Mickey's hand was rubbing gentle circles in to Ian's hip as he asked "Was… that a high or a low?"

"High. I was two states across, hadn't been home for a couple weeks." He sighed lightly, "What about you?"

Mickey's hand stopped as he said "Self-admission at the moment, so my leavin' is kinda' conditional."

Ian nodded, "Why?"

"I'm fucked up." Mickey explained. "I, ah, I got admitted first when I went in to hospital. Cut my wrists, tried to kill myself. Wouldn't've made it if my sister hadn't found me when she did. I came in for six weeks originally, spent that refusin' treatment, kept in for six more when Mandy finally begged me to see sense, said she needed me." Mickey stopped for a moment after his voice had broken slightly. "I got better… a little, enough for them to discharge me on external therapy. Then I lost it. Dad found me takin' it up the ass, beat the fuckin' shit outta' me, beat the guy I was with to the point of bein' a vegetable." Mickey's grip had tightened on Ian's hip to the point of almost causing him pain. "Another failed suicide attempt, more shit from my dad, then I got Mandy to drive me down here and put myself in. It's just 'til I feel I can get out. But with how my dad is, I ain't in no rush."

"Erm, do you mind me asking what your, uh, B.D.P. is?" Ian asked cautiously.

Mickey relaxed a little and chuckled, "B.P.D. is borderline personality disorder. I guess it's kinda' like yours a bit. My moods can be erratic, as you've seen, so like, I can be cheery as your fuckin' aunt one minute and the next you can just fuck off 'cause I won't be somethin' you'd wanna' spend time with." He sighed, "Hostility is a big part of it. Umm, I guess in short it's kind of how my moods are and how I… interact with other people. It's kinda' weird, hard to describe 'cause it's different in everyone. Like, there's a load of symptoms I could have, but I only have some of 'em. And someone else with it might have some of them, but they might not have any of the ones that I do, and they've still got the same shit as me."

"You're not fucked up," Ian said after a minute.

Mickey chuckled lightly, "I am, I'm just havin' a few good days."