Reckless Harmony

The Warehouse

A fog. Ian's brain is wrapped in a relentless haze as he carefully maneuvers himself down the stairs. Familiar territory—it's sedation, a mental brick wall he's bumped into before. Each step feels like dragging his feet through molasses.

"Finally awake? How're you feeling?" Fiona greets him with one of her signature hugs. Ian has always loved the firm yet tender embrace that only a sister like Fiona can do.

"Tired." A raspy voice slips out. It's not like the usual Ian. He feels like he's got someone else's vocal cords.

She smiles sadly. "Sit down, I'll whip up some grilled cheese."

Perched at the table, Ian stares off into nothing, lost in the fog swirling inside his head.

"I'm sorry, Ian. I shouldn't have yelled like that," Fiona suddenly says, referring to their recent argument about Fiona forcing Ian to quit his job at the club.

Oh, right. His job. Ian wrestles with mixed feelings about it. A gig at Fiona's diner doesn't sound thrilling, but maybe it beats the alternative—blowing guys for a couple of quick bucks?

Ian sighs, "It's probably for the best."

The sizzle of the pan interrupts the conversation as the cheese melts into a small golden pool beside the buttered down bread.

Fiona places the plate in front of him, the warm aroma of melted cheese filling the air. She kisses his head. "Eat up. It'll make you feel better."

Ian nods, taking a bite. The comfort of the familiar taste grounds him a little. Fiona watches him, her concern is evident in the lines on her face.

The conversation drifts to lighter topics—weather, gossip from the neighborhood, anything to ease the weight in the room. Ian half-listens, his mind occasionally wandering back to the fog that refuses to lift.

Two days roll by, seeming normal to everyone else, but for Ian, it's like being stuck in a never-ending loop, just tagging along for the ride of the roller coaster that's the Gallaghers. Dinner with the siblings is like watching everything in slow-mo, the clinking of utensils, and the usual banter feeling like background noise.

His siblings, trying not to make a big fuss, sneak glances at each other, shooting concerned looks his way as he sits quietly at the dinner table.

"Hey Ian, eat your fries." Fiona leans closer to him as the siblings continue whatever meaningless conversation around the table.

Ian stands up, "I'm tired."

He descends the stairs, up to the boy's room and crashes into bed. After a while, his phone buzzes.

21:46

Mickey: Wanna see u

A faint smile plays on Ian's lips as he reads Mickey's text.

Ian: When?

Mickey: Know the abandoned warehouse by the docks?

Ian: Yeah?

Mickey: Be there in 15

A surge of anticipation cuts through the heaviness, urging Ian to gather the energy to get up and throw on some clothes. At the last second, he turns back to grab his camera. Downstairs, the siblings linger at the table, their voices filling the room with a gentle murmur. Ian slips by into the hallway as quietly as possible.

The night air is crisp as Ian strolls toward the quiet docks. Boats used to park here, but not anymore. Who knows what the fuck happened. The weight in Ian's limbs remains, deep in his bones which pulls him down. Yet, as he spots the black-haired man, it seems to lighten a bit. Ian's heart flutters as Mickey greets him.
"Hey."