blue ; gallavich

13

MICKEY

I sit down nervously at the small table that's taking up unnecessary space in my living room, an uneasy feeling forming in my gut as I pick away at the paint chips. Svetlana approaches me and I roll my eyes, not wanting to deal with her shit. "Fuck off." I mutter, but my words of angst don't play any affect on her as she sits down across from me.

"You seem upset. Nervous even. You alright?" She asks in her thick Russian accent. She may be a fucking pain in the ass, but moments like these are the reasons why I love her presence. At least I know through everything that's happened that she's always been there for me and always will be. Her and I may have our ups and downs but she accepts me, which is reassuring to know. She's a bad ass and so am I, which might be one of the only reasons she's still here.

"My crackhead father's back. Terry, you probably remember the sick fuck." I scoff. I feel like throwing up at the sound of his name and I feel disgusted every time I think about how he treated me. But even more so what he did to my sister. Knowing that he abused her is one of the worst things I can even fathom to think about without wanting to kill Terry right then and there.

"I'm not sure what to think. Or what to do. My brain has gone corrupt. I feel so fuckin' lost and I hate it. There's been too fucking much going on, Svet." I admit to her as she nods her head reassuringly and throws off an understanding vibe. "The fuck do I do?"

"Well..." She begins as she starts to form a plan in her mind. She's generally good at plotting master mind schemes, one of the reasons why I keep her around. "You could always call up your brothers. Collin and Iggy would want him gone now that he's back."

I stare at her in shock, not because of how fucking logical the woman is but because I didn't fucking think of that. It's the most obvious solution and my dumb ass couldn't even generate that thought. I blame part of that on Ian, though, seeing that I haven't been able to get the firey fucker off my mind all week. Maybe it's because he might have AIDS, meaning I might have to kill that asshole, Caleb, for putting him in danger. Or maybe it's because I keep thinking about what he said last night. What he said was true, but what I said was even more genuine.

"You're a fucking genius." I say ecstatically, pleasingly kissing Svetlana on the top of her head, the same way I kissed Ian last night. But now's no time to think about him. I have to get serious. Terry's back and I know that Collin's first declaration is to kill him, seeing how that will eliminate any chances of Terry doing anything else. But Iggy won't like that idea and he will call for something more realistic, like framing him for burglary or planting an unregistered weapon in his pocket. Iggy wouldn't be able to deal with the pressure of seeing his father shot and killed. Then Mandy will interject, saying that we should just leave it so we don't get into any trouble. But my solution is to wait it out; see how far Terry's dumb ass can really cross the line before causing me to erupt in anger and have a reason to kill the stupid fucker. And usually my idea turns into a plan.

I look down at my phone and call Mandy, knowing that she won't ask too many questions until she gets here, unlike the other two who talk on and on about life and contemplate the fucking future together or some unnecessary bullshit.

"Mandy. Are Igs and Collin with you? It's urgent." I inform her desperately and I can tell by the tone of dread in her voice that she knows what the situation is about.

"Yeah. We'll be right there." She tells me and I can hear Iggy asks what seems like a million fucking questions and Collin interjecting, telling him to shut the fuck up for a second. "It's about Terry, shithead. He's back and we all know that never leads to anything good." Mandy calls to them. "Mick, how urgent is this 'cause Iggy did some stupid shit and fucked around with some drug lord and he's gotta handle that. So can you wait a bit?"

"Fuckin' dumbasses I swear to fucking God." I mumble under my breath incoherently, shaking my head in disbelief at the timing. "Yeah, it can wait but not for too long. Tell Iggy to get his shit figured out and meet me here in no less than 45." I demand before clicking off and hanging up. I sigh and toss the phone onto the couch. Why the fuck was Iggy fucking around with a drug lord? Doesn't he remember how that ended last time, with him getting stabbed in the arm?

Iloudly sigh in frustration with my mess of a family. We may be fucked up be still care about each other, which I guess is healthy and shit. When your mother and father don't give half a fuck about you, then you get pretty good at learning to fend for yourself, which we've always done. But when we need each other we're here. And when has Terry been there for us?

Never.

I throw myself on the couch exhaustedly and grumble a few swears before rolling over and preparing to finally get some sleep. My mind races and I find myself fixated on Ian and feel my body getting more emotional by the second. I block my feelings out, not wanting to be any more of a pussy than I have been over the past few months. I think about the hurtful things he said to me when we broke up, and that time when he punched me at the dugout. But I then go back to the time he tried to stop me from getting married, and when we slept together and held hands and were sappy gay queens. My mind ponders around different moments, ultimately making it a tangled and confusing mess. But it can't be more fucked up than it already is.

Just as I'm about to fall asleep, I hear a startling knock at the door, obviously urgent and attention-needing, due to the strength of it. I groan and force my lazy body to sit up, calling out a "go the fuck away." But the knocking doesn't stop. Instead it continues faster and harder then before. What the hell? I thought Iggy had some shit to deal with.

"Jesus fuck I'm coming." I creak as I stumble over to the door.

"What the- Gallagher?" I ask as I rub my eyes groggily and stare at him. I can immediately tell something is wrong as I look up at Ian's distressed face. He looks like a fucking mess; hair tangled, eyes puffy and on the verge of tears, looking like a true South Side thug in a baggy sweatshirt and loose jeans. "Jesus, you forget how to dress or something?" I tease, but when I look up at his sad face I realize that this isn't a time for joking around. Something serious is going on and I truly see his devastation as tears start to trickle down his cheeks and his face becomes a sickly pale shade, so discolored that I can even see freckles in places where they weren't before.

I wrap my muscular arms around his strangely frail-seeming body and he rests his head in the crook of my neck, letting out somewhat-muffled sobs. His body shakes like an earthquake and I can see him breaking inside as I yank his face towards me and see the fear lining his eyes, pupils completely dilated in some form of shock.

"I have no clue what the fucks going on, but someone's about to die." I hiss at him, wrapping his long, lean body up in mine and standing there, holding him like it's the last time I'll ever feel his embrace.

And it might be, thanks to Caleb. But I hope not.