You And Me (Gallavich)

Kash 'N Dash

Ian was aimlessly wandering the bleachers of the baseball field later that morning, trying to ease the pain of his wound on his thigh. The sunlight was burning down on the back of his neck as he pulled at his shirt, trying to create some air on his heated chest. He noticed a familiar figure at the top of the bleachers, his head back as he chugged cans of most probably very cheap beer. Ian stood at the bottom of the bleachers, looking up at him and squinting in the sunlight.

"Very productive day," Ian yelled loud enough so Mickey could hear him, referring to earlier that morning when Mickey had told him that he needed to take care of 'important business'.

Mickey's voice wavered back, "Fuck off."

Ian snorted and started up the bleachers, taking his time as he tried not putting too much pressure on his leg. He eventually got to Mickey who had several crushed beer cans next to him along with stubbed cigarettes. "Jesus, Mick."

Mickey said nothing, just smoked away on what seemed like his eighth cigarette. Ian took a seat next to him, the crushed beer cans separating them. "You need something?" Mickey grumbled.

"No," Ian replied. He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Do you?"

Mickey raised his eyebrows and turned his head slightly to give Ian an unimpressed look. Ian raised his eyebrows back suggestively. With a scoff Mickey looked back out at the field. "Supposed to go to the station to find out who stabbed me."

A beat of silence. "Why aren't you?"

"I don't know," Mickey pouted his bottom lip out, stubbing the cigarette.

"C'mon Mick, you can tell me."

"Guess I just don't want to find out that Maria did it, whatever."

Ian roamed his eyes over Mickey's reddened face that was starting to get layered with sweat. His eyes were becoming bloodshot, his right leg was jumpy as if he was nervous or anxious, and his eyes shifted around more than usual. "Do you think she did it?"

"I don't know."

"So you have a feeling it could be her. Mickey, you could go get all of this figured out right now. Just go to the station and get it over with."

Mickey's phone began to ring. It was in between the two boys next to the cluster of beer cans and cigarette stubs. Ian glanced down at the caller ID. "Larkin."

Mickey groaned, rubbing his eyebrow as he downed the rest of the can. He stood up, snatching his phone and the rest of the cans as he walked down the bleachers. Ian stood up, squinting in the sunlight again. "Where are you going?!"

"Somewhere else!" Mickey shouted, his voice cracking. He turned to look at Ian with eyes redder than ever and irritation littered across his face. "Somewhere fucking far away from here!"

"Mickey," it was easy for Ian to catch up to Mickey, since both boys had a limp that barely let them hurry. "Mickey, I know this bothers you but c'mon man, I'll go with you if you want-"

"I don't need you! I'm not some fucking bitch who needs his babysitter following him around everywhere!" Ian realized that by now it was the alcohol talking. Mickey was definitely drunk off his mind. And it was only almost one in the afternoon.

"Okay," Ian said softly. Mickey's phone started to ring again, vibrating in Mickey's hand. They both ignored it. Mickey began to limp away again, this time more slowly with his shoulders slumped in exhaustion.

"Just leave me alone."

Ian's heart clenched at the smallness and sadness in Mickey's voice. He looked so vulnerable as he walked away, trying to hide his limp. He took his phone out and dialled Larkin's number.