blue ; gallavich

12

IAN

Mickey and I sat there for hours, him snickering at my ridiculous puns, and me concentrated on thinking up clever lines that were sure to earn a smile from the mostly-serious Milkovich. He told me about how he felt during certain times and occasions, but none of them hit me as hard as the Army story did.

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"I think what fucked me up the hardest," Mickey said earlier that night, "-other than when you wouldn't get out of bed and I was hit with that fucking hospital shit- it was when you left to go for the army. After I was too fuckin' pussy to tell you to stay, it hit me that you were gonna be gone for, like, four years. I mean, fortunately your dumbass tried to steal a fuckin' helicopter- fuckin' stupid, Ian- but I didn't know that at the time.

"I mean, I was really, really fucking screwed there, Ian. You already had me fucking falling for you like I was some fuckin' prince or somethin'." He said, and at first I thought that what he was saying was just because of the alcohol in his system, but he looked over and gave me a genuinely sincere look. That was when I knew that he meant and carefully considered the words that were coming out of his mouth.

"After a while, though, I decided that I actually missed you, not that I'd show it or tell anyone- that definitely was not gonna happen. So I started drinking to, like, sooth the pain or whatever and then it got out of hand and I was getting drunk every chance I could. I mean it was the same type of situation like that time you ran off with Yev, except for this was worse since I had no actual idea if I'd ever see you again. Mandy and Lip and all them obviously realized how bad this fucked me up, too.

"I was playing the guitar, naked and drunk-" he snickered at the memory- "and Debbie walked in and was really fucking confused and then I will never forget when she told me 'you can't drink him away, Mick'. I just stood there and stared at her as she started trailing on about some Frank and Monica bullshit." Mickey paused, taking a sip of his beer and staring attentively at the cement ground beneath us.

"Honestly, Ian. I think that was kinda when I realized for the first time that I fucked up. I wanted to be with you, I knew that, but I couldn't admit it. Not only did the thought of being in a relationship terrify me, but the thought of being in a gay relationship made me want to curl up in a fuckin' ball and cry like a little bitch."

"What changed?" I asked him, and he looked over at me with such an innocent expression I thought that I was speaking to someone else. How can someone who's done so much bad- steal shit, almost murder people, beat people until they're black and blue and can't move a muscle- look so innocent as if he's never done anything wrong. Has he become that vulnerable to me? He continued to stare at me, not answering my question, so I answered it for him.

"What changed was that I've made you completely weak. I've taken everything you've known and told you it was complete bullshit. I took the hardened shell that was once Mickey and took my time cracking it until the soft part of you was revealed. I then wore you out to the point that you probably could've walked around with a sign saying 'I'm a pussy' and people would've nodded in agreement. I stripped you bare and tossed you in public and forced you to show people who you really are. And after I did that I had you- all of you- and I was all you had left." I paused and looked over at his teary-eyed face, and he turned away from me to make sure I wouldn't see him in this powerless state.

"And then I went and did it: I left you. I left the helpless Mickey to fend for himself after I broke him free. I took everyone he loved away from you- your dad, your sister- and made you mine. And then I took the one person you had left- me- and disappeared. So you had no one." I grumbled, my voice scratchy and my throat dry from speaking such truthful words.

He knew I was right and the realization killed both of us. The situation was more dark than either of us thought it was, and the thought of how I tortured him made me feel so evil. Mickey sighed and, probably in anger, he chucked his beer bottle against the short fence as it ricocheted off and shattered into a thousand pieces. I heard him mutter "fuck" as he rubbed his eyes raw and I nodded my head in agreement.

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Mickey stands up and stretches, and I arise as well. He looks over at me, tears still lining his eyes, and my face flushed pink. The night was going so well until I had to make it depressing. Until I admitted the undeniable truth.

"Have you taken your meds lately?" A concerned Mickey hisses out, scared to ask the question due to my harsh reaction last time when I punched him in the face. I'm not triggered though, this time I realize that's he's asking me this question out of genuine concern.

"Yeah, yesterday." I admit, awkwardly running a hand through my red mane. He nods in response and stares at me fiercely.

"Ian, I have to get back to Svet and Yev and I've got shit that my brothers and I gotta deal with, but I just want you to know this: I care about you and I support you in all of your decisions. If you don't want to take your meds- fine. I'd rather have you be nuts than medicated with no fucking emotion at all. And I'm not going to force you to break up with Caleb, since he might die before that happens, but if you do I'm always here. He'll never love you in the way I do because I've seen more and understand you more than anyone ever will and I've learned to accept the fact that you're fucking insane. We all are in some way. I mean, I'm a homicidal prick who tries to fucking kill people and I judge you for going off your rockers when I'm just as bad, if not worse. And Caleb will never know how it feels to be misunderstood and feel like a fuckin' freak, but we do. And he'll never be able to have as much- I don't know, like, feelings- towards you as I do." Mickey finishes his speech and kisses the top of my head before trotting down the stairs on the front porch, not even letting me say a word.

My jaw is practically on the floor in shock at how purely emotional Mickey can actually get. I never expected that from him. I've never expected anything from him, but he still gave it to me anyways.

"Damn, that's some real commitment." Lip says from the door, startling me with his sudden appearance. "You know he's right, don't you?" He asks as I nod my head hesitantly.

I don't even need to ponder on the question, what he was saying was completely true. Caleb is perfect, too good to be true, and Mickey knows how it feels to have real problems; a real mental illness. Though none of us ever thought of his violent manner as an actual mental state, it's the same as being suicidal just with the major exception that instead of hating yourself you hate everyone else.

"Speaking of Caleb, have you seen him around?" I ask Lip as he nods his head.

"Oh, yeah. Last night I saw him out at a fancy restaurant. With a woman." Lip finishes his sentence dramatically. I stare at him in shock before thinking of the positive, reassurance becoming harder as Lip gives me a skeptical look.

"Do you think she's family or a colleague or something?" I ask Lip as he shrugs.

"Not sure, Baby Bro. But it's time for us to do a little poking around." He winks as I stand up, quickly and follow him into the house. He grabs a few things before we leave and we walk to the L, taking a train to Caleb's house and hiding behind a car to make out spying more secretive so we're not stalking. It's not very effective, though, because you can see the silhouettes of my brother and I crouched down.

We must have come at a perfect time, though, because what I see next makes my stomach turn and my heart race. Lip looks over at me in sympathy and it seems as if the world is spinning around in its axis at a million miles per hour.

This was probably how Mickey felt when I broke up with him.