without you | gallavich

Ch. 11

Vomit. Vomit and blood was thick on Mickey's tongue, like an unwelcome guest. He slowly blinked his eyes until the image came into focus and he just wanted to rip off his skin and disappear into thin air as he connected the pieces together. Here he was, a shivering man sleeping next to an absurd combination of puke and blood. He sat up and bit the corner of his lip, his mind hazy as he tried to piece together the whole story. He was in a cell. Slowly sitting up, Mikey looked around as if it would explain everything. A blanket was tightly wound around his body with a bucket pressed against the frame of the bed. He sat up and felt like his body was about to give up on him and leave him there defenseless.

"You were outside of a bar last night," a strange voice interjected from outside the bars. "You got quite a beating." Mickey ran his hand over his face, feeling the swollen bump of his lower lip and the gash that trailed from his top lip to the edge of his nose. His eye felt swollen and tender to the touch. All in all, his entire body felt like it had been hit with a train. Mickey gently fixed his position, easing the tension off of his knee. He had lost the crutches he took on the first night he left, leaving them in the corner of an unknown bar as he drank away his worries. Someone eventually dragged him out but he woke up in the back alley of the bar, clothes still on. His body didn't have the same burn as it would so he assumed that someone got spooked and ran off. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Say, are you okay?" The stranger asked, opening the cell to step inside and sit on the bench across from the injured boy. Mickey took a good look at the person, tilting his head slightly and squinting as if focusing on the person would make his pounding head disappear. The person was roughly around the same age as him, dressed in a crisp police officer uniform. His hair was a rich black, strands falling to cover his dark brown eyes. He was, without a doubt, pleasing to look at. He looked at the name tag rested on the stranger's breast pocket, hoping to find his name. Officer Raven.

Snapping out of his gaze, Mickey pointed at his throat before shaking his head. He didn't know how to explain that he couldn't talk and the only reason he was here was because he couldn't grasp onto the concept of the fact that sometimes, bad things happen to good people. He looked up at the officer, feeling uneasy at the way he was being stared at. It was as if he was in an art gallery, analyzed and criticized to no end.

"Say, you look familiar... Did you recently get into an accident by any chance?" Officer Raven asked, his voice hesitant as he folded his arms over his chest. Mickey scanned over the body language once again, making a conclusion based off of the officer's behaviour. One, Mickey would not be able to leave without interrogation. Two, this officer was a brand new person, straight out of the Academy. The brown eyes were too bright; they shined with a gleam of hope of changing the world.

Mickey nodded, a deep frown plastered on his face. He hated even thinking about the accident because it would bring a flood of unecessary emotions and regret. He wanted to snap and lash out - to tell the cop the he needed to back the fuck off - but he couldn't. Raven pursed his lips before wincing, leaning forward in his seat.

"Yeah, I remember. Two fatalities, two in critical condition. I'm presuming you're the one who was least injured." Officer Raven gave out a cold laugh, shaking his head gently. "It was my first response to a car accident. Horrific sight, let me tell you." The officer continued to ramble on, leaving Mickey to give a horrified expression. He didn't want to listen to this. He didn't want to hear the way the accident looked from the outside in. "No one is going to get justice, sadly. Can't believe the driver passed out from drunk driving and then died."

Pushing himself to his feet, Mickey pointed at the door and began to wobble his way towards the exit. Officer Raven stood up and blocked the doorway, his hands directly on his taser as he placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"You are technically free to leave but I am not comfortable with releasing you into the public. Is there a place I can take you? The hospital? Friend's." Mickey froze in his spot, his eyes narrow at he balled his fist. He didn't want to admit that he had no one left so he just shrugged. It would be better if the officer didn't have anything to criminalize him with.

Officer Raven held out a notepad and pen, his olive fingers shaking as he slowly released his grasp on the materials. Mickey rolled his eyes as a display of annoyance before taking the notepad out of his hands roughly and scribbling down the first address that came to mind. He tossed the notepad and pen back to the beaming officer, making sure that it was clear on his face that he was not pleased about this situation.

"Perfect!" Officer Raven kept a wide, pleased grin on his face as he stepped out of the cage and locked it up. Mickey stared at the lock, his brain fixated on the memories that appeared. Him going to juvie for the first time, terrified. Him going in for the last time, exhausted and lonely. Him being in a place where he had nothing but his own thoughts to keep him company.

"Fuck," Mickey mouthed a gentle curse, dropping himself onto the floor as his chest tightened. He truly fucked up now.

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The South Side boy found himself back on the streets of the place he knew off the back of his hand. He kept his eyes trained on the house in front of him, ignoring the keen encouragements of Officer Raven to move further and go inside.

Mickey stumbled up the stairs, hissing quietly as he tried to ease the pain off his right knee. He kept himself composed together at the front door, simply begging himself internally for it to be empty. As he pushed open the door, Mickey was greeted by the gentle sound of pure silence and suddenly, all his worries seemed to fade away. The familiar scent of the Gallagher home kept his nerves at ease as he began to make his way towards the stairwell. He rested his good knee on the bottom step and placed his elbows two steps above, working to slowly pull himself up. It took a while as he tried to avoid causing any unnecessary pain.

Once at the top, the boy worked to stand up straight and slowly began working his way towards the Gallagher brothers' room. He nearly let out a sob at the sight of Ian's bed, his body reminding him of the pure state of painful exhaustion that he was in. The bed was loosely made, the dark fabric looking inviting and safe. Mickey saw a phone charger standing out against the dark fabric, making him pull out the heavy weight of his own phone. It had been dead for awhile, since the first night he left if he could recall properly.

Plugging it in, he collapsed against the bed and relished in the faint smell of Ian. Suddenly, a wave of uncontrollable emotions washed over Mickey and he broke down. Tears streamed down his face as his hands clutched at the sheets, pulling them to cover his cold and frail body. Whines escaped his lips and he could feel the burn of his eyes. He cries until the light of the room faded into the dark, until the sound of people outside lulled him to a sleep. Before letting the sleep finally pull him away from reality, Mickey pulled out his phone and pressed on the voicemails he had received since the last time he checked his phone. Maybe the voice of his sister could lull him to sleep.

"Mickey, please... I miss you..." was all it took for the exhausted boy to finally fall asleep.