You And Me (Gallavich)

Fool's Gold

"Hey," Ian said softly, holding Mickey's arm and letting the injured boy lean on him for support as he struggled to stand. "It's okay. You're fine."

"Thanks," Mickey said sheepishly as he stood up, ignoring the throbbing pain in his stomach. He absentmindedly ghosted his palm lightly over the large scar across his abdomen. Ian watched with pity filled eyes at the way Mickey hissed in pain at every step he took.

"Alright," the doctor said, checking some things on a paper. "So, take this after every meal, three times a day, after using a bathroom. Take this one twice a week, on whatever days but they have to be two days apart. It's good to make a schedule to keep track of the meds."

"Thank you," Maria said, though Ian was listening more intently. Ian quickly took the meds from the doctor before Maria could and shoved them in a paper bag.

"Thank you," Ian said solemnly to the doctor, not even sparring a glance at Maria as he placed a hand on Mickey's shoulder and helped him outside. Maria was on their tails the whole time, and soon it was the three standing in the parking lot, waiting for Iggy.

"You can go, you know?" Mickey said to his mother. She'd been stuck at his side in the hospital for three days, and the more Mickey has to look at her the more sick he feels. Though he will admit, he lightened up a bit on Maria's behalf. She did save him, after all.

"Come home, Micael," Maria pleaded, looking at her son with begging, watery eyes. "Please come home to your mother."

"You ain't a mom," Iggy said as he approached the three, placing a hand on Mickey's shoulder. "A mom stays with her kids and doesn't fucking disappear for ten goddamn years."

Mickey felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes and turned around, limping to Iggy's car. "Hey," Mandy greeted him quietly at her spot by the open car door. Mickey grunted in reply and ducked his head inside, painfully shuffling down to the end of the seat and leaning his head against the window. He didn't have to open his eyes to know it was Ian who slid in beside him and placed a soothing hand on Mickey's shoulder. Mickey felt his eyes fill with tears. Fuck.

-

-

"Do you know who it was?" Ian asked quietly, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his bent knees. Mickey sighed for the third time and tried getting comfortable on the bed.

"No," he replied bluntly. He peeked one eye open and sighed yet again at Ian who was staring at him as if thinking he would burst any second. "Get the fuck off my ass, man. If I knew the guy he woulda been dead by now."

"I think you know, Mickey," Ian mumbled, crawling towards Mickey's limp body. Mickey squeezed his eyes shut painfully a ran a hand over his face. The room was silent until Mickey felt a breath against his neck. "I think you know."

"What the fuck are you doing?" He asked rather loudly, ripping his hands away from his face. His breath caught in his throat when he saw how close Gallagher was. They were two inches from pressing their lips together and Mickey's stomach throbbed more. Ian's eyes flickered to Mickey's lips. Mickey opened his mouth as he felt a warm hand slide up his jean clad thigh. Iggy and Mandy were probably just outside. And Terry, and probably Maria. Terry. "Terry!"

Ian jumped away from Mickey confusedly as he struggled to sit up, ripping the blankets off his body. Mickey tried to quickly pull his jacket on while not looking at Ian who was just staring from his spot on Mickey's bed. We almost kissed, Mickey thought as he left the room. Right?

"Fuck," he grunted as he began walking quickly down the sidewalk, half because of the pain and half because he fucked up yet again. His lips were dry from how breathless Ian made him. God, he sounded like a fucking girl. He could still feel Ian's hand going up his thigh. Was Ian into him? Or did he just do that to get something out of Mickey? Does he know Mickey's gay?

Mickey froze. I'm gay?

"Watch it, bitch!" A voice yelled at Mickey before Mickey felt himself run into some random crackhead. He looked up to see he was in the dugouts (he zoned out in the thought of Gallagher, fuck him) and clutched his stomach in pain. The man looked at Mickey disgustedly. "Yeah, you're the bitch Milkovich that got stabbed the other day, huh?"

Mickey threw the punch before even realizing he did it. He felt the pain in his jaw before the sore in his knuckles. He was on the ground in pain, vision blurry. Mickey knew he wasn't in any shape for a fight, but he wasn't gonna let some inbred cock talk about him like that. Fuck these assholes. Mickey closed his eyes and awaited more pain that never came. He listened to grunts and the sound of someone spitting before a loud thump to the ground. He looked up with furrowed eyebrows using as much energy he could to see who allegedly saved him. He saw a blur of blonde hair and tattoos before the pain became too much, and he passed out.

-

-

"Where's Mickey?" Ian asked as he entered the kitchen after a long, cold shower. Mandy looked up from where she was writing something and shrugged.

"Thought he was with you?"

"He left like, twenty minutes ago or something. You didn't see him?"

"Ian," Mandy sighed, dropping her pencil. "Doesn't matter what pain Mickey's been through, or what shit he faced. He hates company. He never wants anyone with him, he fucking hates the support. He's probably smoking and drinking somewhere. Worst case scenario, he's in an alley getting jacked off by a hooker. You don't gotta waste time worrying about him."

"Waste time?" Ian all but shouted. "He's your fucking brother! My friend! Caring about him doesn't mean wasting time!"

"Friend?" Mandy scoffed, standing up. "Mickey doesn't keep friends! Listen, I could be a real great fucking sister but guess what? He doesn't need one!"

"And how would you know that?!" Ian laughed sarcastically. "Just because he doesn't blurt out how he fuckin' feels every minute doesn't mean he's happy being alone!"

"Nobody needs anyone around here! You forget the fucking rules? It's the south side, smartass! Being alone is how everyone's happy!"

"Unbelievable," Ian shook his head, picking up his jacket roughly. "One person acts like a tough ass and pretends he doesn't need anybody and everyone falls for it. You know, maybe he just needs a reason to think you care."

"Fuck you!"

-

-

"Bout fucking time." Mickey heard someone say as he blinked his eyes open, feeling immense pain in his stomach and jaw. He looked towards the body hanging on the chin up rod him and Ian set up a while ago. He was still in the dugouts. It was getting dark and cold. He squinted at the body, heart beginning to race 100 miles a second when his vision focused.

"Fuck!" Mickey yelled hoarsely.

Short chapter. One comment for another update :)