You And Me (Gallavich)

Ian the Runner

Ian glanced down wearily at the GED form application. Cursing silently, he put pen to paper and began filling the tiny boxes out.

He felt Lip's breath on the back of his neck before his obnoxious voice. "GED, huh? What's the occasion?"

Ian glared at Lip as the older boy poured himself coffee. "I don't know, my future?"

"Really?" Lip hid his smirk behind his cup of coffee. "Sure Mickey had nothing to do with it?"

Ian rolled his eyes and went back to the form. "So what if he did?"

"No reason. Just seems nowadays he's making all the right decisions for you."

Ian pretended Lip's words meant nothing to him as his eyes flickered towards the floor. Lip left the kitchen with a small sigh, leaving Ian to wallow in his thoughts.

There was something about not being independent that made Ian's blood boil. Mickey didn't make decisions for him. Ian took this initiative. This is Ian's work and effort. Mickey just gave him some ideas.

Ian's hand clenched around the pen. Fuck Mickey.

Ian stood up, leaving the GED forms to themselves and walked straight outside for a breath of fresh air.

He contemplated going to the garage where Mickey was. After last night, with the whole bomb thing involving Emri, Mick and Carl, the four of them had a good laugh on the L back home. Once they reached home, everything seemed to get quieter as Carl and Emri realized they had both Ian and Mickey together for the first time after a long time in their presence. They resulted to whispering quietly on the half empty train, leaving Mickey and Ian to talk between one another.

"Can I ask you a question?" Ian had asked Mickey, both of them soaked wet and slumped in seats opposite from one another.

Mickey met Ian's eyes with a lazy grin, eyes hooded. "You just did-"

The kick to Mickey's leg cut the black haired boy off from his witty response. The two of them laughed quietly. Ian sighed happily and ran a hand through his hair, pushing the strands out of his face.

"Why did you uh," Ian cleared his throat. "Why did you stop drinking?"

Mickey's response to the question was not at all what Ian had expected. He expected a little pissy reaction from the older man, maybe even silence. Instead, he got a nervous Mickey right in front of him, twiddling the bottom his jacket in his hands. "Part of my probation deal."

"You're on probation?"

Mickey rolled his neck, not meeting Ian's eyes. "Not anymore. Had an outburst at the Alibi, had to give up drinking and go to fucking therapy to keep out of jail."

"Shit," Ian whispered. "You in therapy? I can't even imagine that."

"It was group therapy," Mickey mumbled. He met Ian's eyes tentatively. "Made it kinda easier."

"I know what you mean," Ian replied just as quietly.

Mickey shifted in his seat. "You ever been to group therapy?"

"Yeah, once or twice."

"Why?"

"Everybody's got problems, Mick."