stone cold {gallavich}

chapter four

"so what do you have in mind? whatcha up to today?" mickey asks ian with a cigarette in his mouth.

before they knew it, it was already the end of the school day, and they were walking outside to the parking lot together.

"uh, nothing, nothing.
you?"

mickey shakes his head and squints into the sky. he didn't have any plans at all. usually, all he did after school was either stand under the bleachers to get drunk, or go home and sleep his ass off 'til the morning.

"you know if you want..." mickey's voice trails off, causing ian to raise an eyebrow and softly grin.

"... you can hang out with-"

mickey is interrupted by a hit at the head. a burning sensation surrounds his face and his groan surrounds the empty parking lot.

"hey, what the hell?" ian screams.
mickey tries getting up and defending himself but his vision is blurry and he's too dizzy to recall what's happening.

a boy had thrown a good sized rock at mickey from afar. he was the same boy who had been involved in a fight with ian before the incident happened.

ian looks at mickey's attacker in fear. he feels his shoulders tense up and his face grow hot. however, he wasn't allowed to raise a fist to someone, or he'd be expelled; he didn't want to worry fiona more.

"your friend is a fucking bitch! get up, pussy!" the boy yells at mickey.

ian yells at the boy to stop, but he doesn't listen. he kicks at mickey's stomach causing a groan to escape.

"and you, red, you're a fucking freak! think you can get away from your past? you're a psycho! don't you remember what you did, you faggot?"

ian furrows his brow and feels his heart pound rapidly in his chest. he refused to ever think about what happened ever again.

"it was an accident," ian says through a voice crack.

mickey yells in pain as he reaches for his attacker's foot, obviously not achieving anything by it, as it leads to a kick at mickey's face.

mickey's head falls flat to the cement and he knocks out.

ian kneels down to him and shakes his shoulders violently.
"mickey, mickey, wake up. come on!"

"your friend gets a beating, just like you gave one to me," the boy says finally. "fucking faggot."

he begins to walk away when ian suddenly grabs the boy's shoulder and punches him in the nose.

one hit, he falls to the floor groping his nose and cries in pain. ian kneels down slowly and goes by the boy's ear.

"if you tell anybody i laid a hand on you," ian whispers softly, "i will say it was in self defense, and your football scholarship would be ruined, wouldn't it?"

the boy stares at ian with wide eyes, gets up frantically with blood all over, and leaves.

ian lingers for a moment, and returns to mickey. "come on, buddy," ian says shaking him. "you're okay."

mickey opens his eyes a few minutes later. his vision is blurry and he struggles with getting up. "what-what the fuck happened?" mickey exclaims.

ian shrugs his shoulders, "i took care of it."

mickey looks at ian in astonishment and stumbles on his feet.

"let's get you home," ian suggests to the boy with a few bruises on his face and a shallow gash on the top of his head.

mickey winces at the feeling of the cut on his scalp, pressing it with the palm of his hand.

"hell no. my dad found out i took it from some bitch, i'd get it worse from him," mickey says bluntly.

ian presses his lips together and feels his throat become dry. the image of mickey getting beat by his father was saddening to ian. no, it wasn't just saddening, it was horrifying.

"uh, you can come to my place," ian says.

"nah. i'm going to the bleachers."

ian watches as mickey wobbly walks his way to the track. he stumbles a few times, but makes it in fine condition to his spot finally under the bleachers.

ian leaves and mickey is alone in the shade, sitting on the dirt. he watches football players practice throwing a stupid ball to each other and laugh as they check out some cheerleaders gossiping by them.

mickey never fit in with the crowd of popular kids.

he was taught to fend for himself and to keep his distance from people. his mother left without a word when he was younger, so mickey knew he was never to rely on people.

and so he never made friends. the only acquaintances he made were in drug deals or on the streets. he never had a firm relationship, in fact, the closest person he had was his sister.

"hey," he hears a voice behind him an hour later.

mickey turns to see ian dodging poles that held the bleachers up, and walking towards him with a grocery bag.

"the hell's this?" mickey asks.

ian smiles and sits down with his legs crossed besides mickey. "i brought some goodies." he takes out two packs of beer and a bundle of blunts.

mickey smiles and looks up at ian.
"you know we can't smoke or drink on school property right?" mickey asks, opening up a beer.

ian nods and grins, "that's what makes it better."

he grabs his lighter and lights himself up a blunt, allowing a calm smoke to enter his lungs.

"got anything else in the bag?" mickey asks, lighting himself a blunt as well. ian takes out a blanket and and a small pillow.

"since you're not going home, neither am i," ian says proudly.

mickey's face is blank. after a few seconds of staring at ian, he turns to face the field in front of him, thoughtfully.

maybe it was just the smoke getting to his head, but mickey couldn't help but feel a little bit of joy deep inside of him when his new companion wraps himself in a blanket and sips a beer.