Reckless Harmony

Snowy Interruptions

It's snowing.

Mickey glances out of the window. Fluffy, big snowflakes dance down over the Chicago skyline. It looks so peaceful and serene as it lays a soft, white blanket over everything in sight, roofs, streets, cars, and trees. Mickey glances down at the old relic guitar, strumming softly, fingerpicking a melody he comes up with on the spot.

Mickey remembers when he used to play for Ian.

Ian had begged Mickey to do it, but Mickey had refused. After a couple more minutes of groveling, he gave in, taking the guitar in his lap and playing a song he knew Ian liked. Mickey can't sing, so he didn't. But it was enough, he could see it in those green eyes looking directly into his own.

Mickey smiles faintly at the memory of being with Ian, being looked at Ian that way, being held by Ian that way. But then the sharp pain of reality hits him. He regrets it, regrets everything. Regrets hitting, kicking, yelling those harsh words at him.

The boy had looked heartbroken. Mickey wonders where he is now, what he's doing.

Does Ian even think of Mickey as much as Mickey thinks of Ian?

The door bursts open and Mickey flinches at the suddenness. It's Iggy.

"Jesus!" He puts down the guitar. "The fuck you want?"

"Dad's tellin' us we need to go on some run right now."

Mickey sighs. These fucking runs. "Right now?"

"Yeah, says it's important we deal with these fuckers." Iggy leans against the doorframe.

"Where is it?"

Iggy itches the back of his head, hesitating a little before answering in a lowered voice. "NYC."

Mickey's eyebrows fling up, "What the fuck? That's like a twelve-hour car ride!"

Iggy tries to say something but gets interrupted by Mickey stomping against him, pushing him aside. He walks into the living room where Terry is perched on the sofa smoking a blunt, watching TV.

Mickey walks up to him, covering whatever channel he is watching. "New York?"

Terry eyes him, slowly taking another puff.

"You know how long it's gonna take us to get there?"

Terry stands up, intimidatingly approaching Mickey. "Quit whining, bitch." He talks with a rough voice, blowing smoke in Mickey's face. "Get your ass ready, you, Iggy and Colin are going tonight."

Mickey backs up and scratches his eyebrow. "What about gas? We got enough money for it?"

"That whore wife of yours'll give you her spunk money. It'll be enough for the trip back too."

Mickey sighs, going back into his room again where Iggy is still standing in the doorway.

"We takin' the Chevy?" Mickey asks.

Iggy nods. "Yeah, it's ready."