stone cold {gallavich}

foreshadow

{foreshadow}

"tell me what you love."

the boy looks around anxiously and pants hard, as he's pinned to the ground. the tips of cold grass caress his cheek as he squirms under the body of mickey milkovich, south side deadbeat.

ian lets out a scream of distress and feels a sharp object poke on his stomach.

he closes his eyes and falls into a deep internal pit of nothing. a quiet space where he can think. he catches his breath slowly and opens his eyes; he has no expression on his face.

he stares into the eyes of mickey, as if something inside of them were so alluring, other than the eyes themselves.

"fucking answer me," mickey's voice, now shaky, cries.

ian, with not an expression on his face, stays there and looks at mick's eyes still, never releasing the gaze.

mickey wondered what it was that can possibly make somebody like ian, have feelings somebody like himself.

with a facial structure so perfect, a line of freckles from both cheeks to the bridge of his nose. his lips so soft and pink, and his hair so–well, red.

"i love you," ian whispers. a dash of hope in his voice tingles through mickey's spine and feels a tear falls down from his face, onto ian's shirt.

mickey looks away from the boy he was pinning so hard.

he throws the knife on the grass and ian lets out a sigh of relief, only to feel a punch hit his cheek. a punch so insignificantly significant, which didn't hurt his face as much, but only his heart.

mickey gets up and wipes a tear from his cheek, as if he was almost embarrassed to let the boy know he cries.

ian unsteadily gets up and dusts himself off, waiting for mick to say something. anything. anything to make him feel like the world isn't about to end before his eyes. anything to make him feel like the heart that just dropped into his stomach isn't going to ever be fixed again.

waiting for anything that'll keep ian from regretting what he just said, and wishing that knife would be lodged in his chest right now.

and then he waited.
and waited.
and waited.

and when mickey finally said something, it felt worse than the drop of his heart. it was worse than sitting on a bed of pins. because ian loves mickey, but mickey doesn't love ian.