Reckless Harmony

Aching Cheeks, Aching Hearts

Mandy looks around Mickey's room, a little worried. Where the fuck is the douchebag? He'd been gone for two days now. Not a single text, call, nothing. She's not panic attack worried, not even remotely, she knows his brother would go on benders sometimes. But it's unlike Mickey, he usually sleeps at home.

Unless he sleeps over at that redhead's place... Ian?

Mandy wonders how long they've been together. She figured them out once she saw what looks they were giving each other. Those glances and touches, she knows them all too well. Plus that post that someone had put up where they were kissing each other. It didn't seem like that big of a deal until she realized that Terry might see it, or some homophobic nazi bastard that's loyal to Terry might show it to him. Maybe that's why Mickey's gone. To avoid Terry?

There's a hurried knock on the door, one that screams "Open this door right fucking now!". Mandy walks over, arms crossed over her chest warily. The door creaks open and she peers out only to find a concerned-looking Ian, breathing heavily, his hair a little ruffled.

"Is Mickey here?" He breathes out heavily.

Mandy shrugs, "Not since two days ago."

Ian runs a hand through his hair, "Fuck. You know where he might be?"

Mandy thinks for a moment but then shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Ian."

Ian looks down at the ground and the air seems to tense up, blowing cold breezes against them. But then a glowing light bulb seems to appear above Ian's head. "I'll keep looking." He turns around, but Mandy stops him in his tracks, grabbing his wrist.

"Wait, have you seen the post?"

Ian's eyebrows furrow, "No, what?"

Mandy sighs and pulls out her phone to show the redhead, "Someone outed you guys."

Ian stumbles back a little, his eyes wide in surprise and worry. "Fuck!" He curses.

Mandy doesn't get a chance to say goodbye as he hurriedly runs down the tracks and away from the house.

***

Outside the warehouse, the air is blowing hard. Gunshots from inside can be heard and Ian hurries to get in there. If Mickey's not here Ian doesn't know what to do. But as he expected, there he is, shooting stacked beer bottles. It looks like he's been here for a while. Ian's heart finally calms down.

"Shit, Mickey. You don't know how worried I've been."

There's no response from him, he just keeps shooting. Ian's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Mickey?"

Still no response. He walks over to him and places a hand on his shoulder. "Mick."

Mickey sighs and drops the gun to the ground. "You seen it?"

He reeks of alcohol. Ian pauses for a second, "...Yeah."

Mickey turns to face Ian. "You understand how fucked I am?" He sludders his words. Shit, he's drunk as hell.

"Mick, it's okay."

Mickey laughs in disbelief, his alcohol stenched breath hitting Ian in the face. "You're a fuckn' idiot. It's 'okay', huh? Well, let's see 'bout that when my Dad fuckin' kills me."

Ian pauses, he knew about this, there's no way out of public exposure like this. Certainly not when you're a known grunge drummer on the south side. He's famous on the south side because of the band. And the South side sure as hell isn't famous for its "gay acceptance". They both know that. Everyone knows that. Mickey runs his hand over his face and suddenly lets out a loud frustrated scream. Ian winces at the aggression of it. He's never seen Mickey this angry. He crouches down to the hunched-over Mickey and puts a hand on his back, but Mickey jerks away angrily.

"Leave me the fuck alone, Gallagher." He talks with his face buried in the crook of his arm.

"No, I can't jus-"

Mickey suddenly stands up and points a finger at Ian's chest. He looks into Ian's eyes, but there's no softness in them, no reassurance, no love or adoration. He can see his irises flaming with frustration.

"We're fucking done. You got that?"

Ian's heart drops to his fucking feet. "What...?"

Mickey pushes him so that he stumbles back a little, "I'm done!" He points to himself and then Ian, "We're done."

Ian stammers. "You can't do thi-"

Without a word, an angry fist is landed on Ian's cheek. From the man he loves. Ian stumbles back with so much surprise that he lands on the hard gravel.

Hatred. Pure anger and frustration.

Ian grabs his aching cheek and looks at Mickey, breathing heavily with furrowed brows, red, sweaty, guilt behind those eyes.

"...You love me."

Mickey kicks his stomach, making him fold over on the ground. A dreading feeling sets deep in his gut, one that feels fucking awful. Worse than ever. Without a word, Mickey is wobbling out of the warehouse, leaving Ian alone on the ground. Ian's eyes feel glassy and his head is throbbing.

He starts to sob in pain and despair and heartache.