blue ; gallavich

31

IAN

"Ian!" Mandy chases after me, calling my name as I stomp angrily down the sidewalk. "Ian!" She calls again as I turn around and stare at her, on the brink of tears.

"Look, Mandy, if you want to cuss me out just fucking save it." I snap, shaking my head and disappointment.

"What? No. No, I just wanted to ask if you wanted me to drive you since you're obviously upset. Don't want you crashin' over my deadbeat brother." Mandy says and a small chuckle meets my lips as I toss her the keys. She smiles warmly and we hop into Kev's truck.

"Smells like him." I mutter as she scoffs. I shed off my jacket and look behind me to see Mickey's tie that he threw off after throwing a fit when he couldn't do it up. I lean back and pick it up, staring at it sadly. Mandy looks over at me, concern in her eyes as she rips the tie out of my hands and throws it out of the window. Before I have time to freak out at her, Mandy backs the car up with a thrust and runs over the tie.

"Fuck him. What about you?" She asks, looking over at me with her head cocked and an eyebrow raise that screams I'm Always Right. "Ian, he left you. So you can move the fuck on- find someone who isn't gonna disappoint you every minute- or chase after him. And if you choose the second one, punch him in the face for me." I nod, my brain screaming at me to choose the second one, but the words on my lips are telling me to move on.

I can't just move on. I did once and it left me utterly heartbroken and in pain. Since I was 15 I was banging Mick, and I knew I wanted there to be more than just erect dicks and sloppy kissing. I already let go of that experience once and if I did it again I'd be an idiot.

Mandy and I continue to drive in silence. My whole body feels weird, uneasy. Like a part of me has been ripped out and stomped on. That part of me is Mickey. He's become the one part of me that helps me breathe, enables me to breathe. My chest feels tight without him. As I close my eyes, guilt suddenly takes over me and fills every orifice of my suddenly weak body.

"Fuck, Mandy. Fuck!" I exclaim as I kick the dashboard and groan, head in hand.

"Hm?" She asks, at first startled by the sudden outburst but generally not surprised. If you live with Mickey Milkovich for a certain amount of time, anger issues are as casual as blinking.

"I can't find someone new. I need him, Mands. Your brother-" I pause, waving my fingers around in a needy gesture to try and find the right way to explain this, "-everyone thinks he's a piece of shit, but we're all equally as fucked up. And yeah, he's a fucking... Fucker. But he's my fucker, man. And it's," I inhale deeply and take a big breath, "it's not his fault he ran off."

"What the hell do you mean, it's not his fault." Mandy mocks my voice as she eyes me suspiciously.

"Because it's Mickey. He gets threatened and leaves, you should know that Terry taught him that one. Maria played a part, too. We can't blame him for me upsetting him. It's just- he-" I sigh and run a jittery hand through my hair. If I wasn't strapped into this van/truck thing I'd probably be pacing right now. "He's Mickey! It's who he is. And I know why he left."

After a long minute of silence that feels like an eternity, Mandy says, "enlighten me."

"What?" I ask in confusion.

"You said you know why he left so spill it." She says as if it's obvious.

"He, uh, he left to give me time. Time to realize that he loves me with all his heart. I mean, come on Mandy. Everyone thinks Mickey is such a bad guy but he's not. He has a fuckin' heart and I keep breaking it and he's not the asshole."

I'm the asshole.

Mandy looks over at me and sighs, ruffling a hand through my tangled hair. "Ya know, you've really gotta love him to see that much potential. I just thought he was a shithead." She replies as I chuckle and slap her arm.

"It's just-" Before I can complete a thought, a part of my brain clicks back to the day I saw Mickey after he, once again, ran off. He had that shitty little tattoo that was permanently inked onto his skin and he regretted every minute of that night he drunkenly got it.

Blue. The word was sloppily written out on his wrist and had zero meaning to it. But why have something permanent on you that you're going to spend the rest of your life regretting? Just like the tattoo, I don't want him to spend his life regretting the decision he made being with me, and hating himself for everything we've done.

"Mandy." I suddenly speak out, startling her.

"Fucking what?"

"Pull over here." I demand, pointing to a small, shitty shack with a neon sign that's half burnt out, what should be OPEN reads O_EN.

"Why?" She asks as she pulls into the parking lot. I don't respond but she doesn't refuse. We enter the little shop, which smells like cigarettes and pine trees. I look around for a bit as Mandy stares at me intently, looking at me as if I told her I wanted to go break into the White House.

A tall, bald guy approaches us, eyeing both Mandy and I up and down. He grunts, his huge muscles flexing as he asks, "whatcha need?"

"Give me the shittiest tattoo you got."