Bloody Knuckles • Gallavich

Written in the Scars

It was kind of funny actually. The last time Mickey had spent the night at Ian's, he woke up and went immediately to the toilet. And once again that was the case. He woke up with a raging headache and nausea that was so bad he had vomited in the toilet once. Now he just laid back against the bathroom wall, rubbing his head.

"Here," Ian says. "These are Lip's clothes but I doubt he'll notice. Your shirt has blood all over it and they probably won't let you into school that way." Ian sets the pair of Lip's clothing down on the sink before stepping over Mickey and starting the shower. "Fi's gonna make breakfast so you can just meet me down there when you're done" Mickey gives him a curt nod before forcing himself up on his feet. He shuts the bathroom door and strips out of his dirtied clothes, climbing into the hot shower.

The feeling was amazing. Nine times out of ten the Milkovich household was out of hot water by the time Mickey got to shower so he eventually gave up on even trying to shower. But the way the hot water beat down on his bruised skin helped him remember how good it felt.

It burnt slightly, turning his pale skin a soft red color. But Mickey welcomed the new pain. It felt better than the stinging of his cut up face or the pain that raged through his head. If Mickey could, he'd spend the next several years of his life in this shower. In here he felt safe, locked away from Terry and his abusive tendencies.

He grabs the shampoo and scrubs it into his hair. The water trickling down his body turns a pink color as the blood that matted the back of his head rinsed down his body, mixing in with the water at his feet. Mickey stared at it, watching the two colors mix on the shower floor.

"Fuck," he groans out, rinsing out his hair. Mickey didn't want to go to school, but he had no other option. He didn't want to go home and if Ian was going, Mickey wanted to go just to be by him. Mickey wanted the feeling of safety he felt with Ian to never end. If he could he'd follow Ian around everywhere just to feel that sense of security.

Once showered and rinsed off, Mickey steps out of the shower and shivers as he grabs an old white towel. He towels himself off before tugging on the clothes Ian left him. Mickey gently dried his hair  with the towel, careful of the bump on the back of his head before exiting the bathroom. He walks down the stairs and the scent of pancakes practically slaps him in the face.

"Hey, feeling better?" Ian asks, grinning at him. Mickey just stares back. The rest of the Gallaghers sat around the table and Mickey could have sworn he had never felt so out of place than he did in that moment.

Mickey offers Ian a small shrug before helping himself to the pancakes. He grabs a plate and loads them up with syrup and butter. He takes the empty seat next to Ian and stuffs a big bite of pancakes into his mouth.

"What the hell happened to your face?" Carl asks, sipping his orange juice. Mickey shoots him a glare from across the table.

"None of your fuckin' business," he grumbles, mouth full of pancakes. Lip on the other hand shot Ian a small smirk. Ian caught his brother's look and immediately glares back.

"Don't," he mouths. When he had told Lip about his crush on Mickey, he wasn't expecting the boy to show up at his house needing a place to sleep. He was expecting to keep his distance from Lip and the others. But now that he hadn't, he was slightly worried that his little secret would get out. But Ian did trust Lip. That was the whole reason why he had told him  about his crush in the first place. He knew Lip wouldn't snitch on him to Mickey.

"We should get going," Ian says and Mickey nods, desperate to get out of room of Gallaghers. He shoved he last of his pancakes into his mouth before standing up. He snatches the mostly empty gallon of orange juvie from the table and downs it quickly.