Reckless Harmony

Strings of Nostalgia

Mickey kicks back on the porch, enjoying the lazy vibes of a summer day. He has a rare breather with his dad and brothers off on some supply run. But, of course, if Terry ever caught wind of what he's up to, Mickey knows he'd be in for a world of trouble. Still, the temptation's too strong to resist.

He strums the old guitar with care, a relic from his mom that's seen better days. Each chord feels like a quiet conversation with her from back in the day. A sigh slips out as Mickey leans back against the stairs, deep in his thoughts.

"You still have that old thing?" Mandy asks appearing in the doorway.

Mickey shoots her a look, playing it cool, "Yeah, so what?"

She just shrugs, "Just wondering. It's been ages since I've seen you pick it up, especially since she passed."

They sit in silence, taking in the sounds of the bustling south side until Mandy breaks it by sitting down next to her brother to talk.

"You ever think about her?"

Mickey hesitates, torn between his usual tough-guy front and the pull of genuine emotion. "I don't know," he says with a shrug, the uncertainty hanging in the air.

It gets quiet again before Mandy nudges Mickey in the shoulder, her expression softening. "You remember those stale ass pancakes she would make for us?"

Mickey chuckles, the memory bringing a rare smile to his face. "Yeah."

"And that time she caught us sneaking out?" Mandy grins, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "She didn't even get mad."

Mickey's eyes crinkle at the corners. "We were fuckin' punks."

They share a moment of quiet reflection, lost in memories of their mother's warmth and the simple joys of childhood.

Mandy breaks the silence, "You remember that time she tried to teach us how to dance? We were stepping all over her feet but she just kept laughing."

"Yeah. Loved to dance," Mickey says, a fondness in his voice that he rarely shows.

Mandy leans in, her tone turning more serious, "You miss her, don't you, Mick?"

Mickey looks away, his jaw clenching. "Yeah, but what's the point in dwelling on it?"

Mandy reaches out, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Remembering her isn't dwelling, Mick. It's honoring. And it's okay to feel it."

Mickey doesn't know what to say. Conversations in the Milkovich household usually revolve around shipments, guns, drugs, or teasing each other like typical siblings. Mandy takes the cigarette that's been dangling from his lips the entire conversation and takes a couple of drags.

"Where were you yesterday?" she asks.

"What's it to ya?" Mickey retorts defensively.

"We tell each other everything, Mick."

"I was out."

"With a guy?"

Mickey shoots her a wary glance, slightly spooked by her perceptiveness. "Wha- No!"

"So, where were you then?"

Mickey sighs, knowing that Mandy won't let it rest until she gets the story. "I was just... at a club."

"Oh yeah? The fairytail or white swallow?"

"Jesus Chr- What do you want from me?"

"I knew it." She smirks, tossing the cigarette aside and standing up.

"Fuck you."

"Love you too big brother," she teases before heading back inside.

Mickey stares out at the backyard, contemplating the mysterious guy from yesterday. What was it about him that left Mickey feeling like this? He knows he's got to see him again. He resumes strumming on the guitar, turning his thoughts into music.