"He isn't responding to anyone," Mandy murmured, bringing her thumb to her lower lip as she began to tug on it. Lip wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in for a slight hug while keeping his eyes on Mickey. The older boy was curled up in a slight fetal position with his injured leg still extended. He had his back to the door and the table he used to write on was pushed out of arm's reach, littered with full plates of food.
"Ian's okay, though. They got him back," Lip stated, his free hand pressing against the closed door of Mickey's room. It had been a day since Mickey locked himself in the room and refused to let anyone in unless absolutely necessary. When someone tried to talk to him about Ian, he'd get this blank stare and it was obvious that he shut down and wasn't even bothering to pretend he was listening. The nurses tried to tell him for the Gallaghers and Mandy but he just refused to listen. It was in and out, task done. No conversation was made, no interaction, nothing. Mickey Milkovich was returning to his old state of coldness.
"This is my fault," Mandy whispered into the cloth of Lip's jacket, tears beginning to spill. Mickey and Mandy, despite their snarls and comments, were as close to each other as Lip and Ian were. Lip subconsciously began to rub a gentle circle in her back, keeping his eyes low before looking over at Mandy. Here she was, the toughest girl in all of the Southside, clinging onto to him because she was in pieces. There Mickey was, the toughest thug in all of the Southside, falling apart because he was attached to Ian. Lip let out a half-scoff, his eyes closing to prevent himself from rolling his eyes. How did it end up like this? With Ian barely alive, Mickey hanging onto him, and Mandy in hie arms.. Who knew that the Gallaghers would be so interwined with the family that intimidated them the most?
Lip slipped his arm away from around Mandy's side and cupped her cheeks, slightly bending over to look her directly in the eyes. He stared for a few moments before running his thumb over her cheek gently, keeping his voice to a low hum. "Mickey and Ian will be okay? Ian is going to get better and Mickey will come back from this. He's just having a hard time because he's spent so much time with Ian that it's hard to let go or even think of letting go. Mickey. Will. Be. Okay."
"But Dad- He always gets worse when Dad beats him, he shuts off. Lip, Ian is the only one who can actually get him to believe it's okay after anything with Dad." Mandy furiously wiped the tears away from her face, blinking rapidly as she watched Lip sigh and pull her into a tight hug. She knew that Mickey didn't need Ian as a lifeline but she didn't know how else to explain it. Mickey loved Ian unconditionally and without realizing it, he had put so much time with Ian that he slowly started letting go and for the first time in his life, gave himself a chance to be happy. It was cruel to try to rip it away from him, especially when he needed it the most.
"Let's go. He needs to rest." Lip moved his arm up to wrap around Mandy's shoulders, slowly herding her away from her brother. Her body began to tremble and with a gentle sigh, she diverted away from her brother's room.
_______________________
Mickey kept his gaze low, grabbing onto his crutch as quickly as he could manage without falling on the ground. He slowly brought himself up to stand, shaking his arm that had the I.V. in it earlier. He had asked the nurse to remove it because he felt a lot better without it and after an hours worth of negotiation, she agreed on the circumstance he talk to his family. Hah! As if.
The black haired boy slowly moved, shaking his left leg. Using the clothes that have been folded and placed in the drawers of his night table, Mickey changed and it was the first time he had been in 'civilian' clothing since the accident. He moved towards the end of the room before raising a hand to rub at his face gently. His entire body ached dully but it was bearable compared to the relentless throbbing in his head. He couldn't deal with the thoughts, one after another, reminding him of everything he didn't want to remember.
'Fuck it,' he cursed mentally, placing the notebook he had used for the past while onto the table flipped open to a specific page. Things were falling apart yet they were falling back into place for the closed off Mickey to resurface. He waddled down the hall and tried to blend into the background. He needed out and this was the only way he would manage to get out.
______________________
"You've had enough," the bartender stated as Mickey slammed his fist down for another drink. He could barely hold himself up, the fluids running through his veins repeatedly. He found himself inside of a bar an excruciatingly painful limp away from the hospital. He needed the release - something to take away the feeling of being heartbroken. Of being human.
Mickey jutted out his lower lip before scowling, his eyes flaming with anger. He couldn't fight. His mind was screaming with the urge to throw a punch or snap at the tender with an insulting remark but he could do neither. His body was detached from his mind, limp with minimal movements while the only noise that he can make is a low guttural noise mimicking a drawled moan.
"Come on, let's get you out of here," a stranger piped up, snaking their arms around Mickey's waist and pulling him to his feet. He slumped against their frame, too exhausted to look up at the stranger. They worked to partially drag him, partially support him on his way out of the bar. Mickey made a low noise, the pain in his throat excruciating but he couldn't do it; it came out as a low whine, faltering off at a high pitched. He was, in his deathly intoxicated state, calling out for the one person he wanted more than anything.
"What's a pretty boy like you doing out here by yourself?" The stranger purred, their hands slowly sliding up beneath the boy's shirt. Mickey wanted to fight - curse them out and beat them for ever assuming he was a fag but he couldn't. His mind was vacant and his body was limp. He was tiltering over the edge of an unconscious state and all it took was one blink before he collapsed.
YOU ARE READING
without you | gallavich
Fanfiction"He's, uh, he's in critical condition, Mick." Mickey just wanted some ice cream. He didn't mean for the night to turn out the way it did; blood and glass converging into one with his boyfriend's breaths fading to almost nothing.
