Bloody Knuckles • Gallavich

Two Princes

Mickey shakes his head. "No... no come on, just give me the damn thing," he mutters, yanking the pencil from Ian's hand and then the book. "I told you that when you use e it has to have an exponent. You can't put it in the fucking calculator without one. And your logs... jeez Ian. You really don't get this lesson do you?"

Ian laughs helplessly. "I guess not," he says, watching as Mickey does his math. Ian didn't understand how the boy was so good at math, yet he was failing all of his courses... again.

"Here," he mumbles, handing the book back over. Mickey had done the problem for Ian, his scribbled handwriting all over the paper. Ian smiles over at him.

"Thanks."

Mickey smiles a bit but quickly wipes it off with the back of his hand. "Yeah, Whatever," he says, folding his arms over his chest.

Soon the bus stops in front of the gym and everyone gets off, Mickey and Ian being the last two. Mickey follows behind Ian as they walk into the locker room and they both drop their bags onto the bench.

"Hey, so I was thinking maybe you could come over and hang out after," Ian mumbles so that only Mickey could hear. He glances over at the younger boy as he tugs his shirt over his head. His pale skin was littered in light bruises from boxing, but mostly from Terry. Most of them were fading now since Terry hadn't been home as often, but he did have a large purple one on the left side of his rib cage.

Mickey gives him a small grin and nods. "Yeah, sure," he says as he puts on his tank top. He undoes his jeans and kicks them off, trading them for his grey sweat pants instead. "Think we could pick up some food too? I'm fucking starving and I've been dying for a burger and some fries."

Ian smiles widely and nods. "Yeah, of course we can. I have my wallet with me so we could pick up McDonald's." He quickly changes and reaches into his bag. Today he had brought one blue Gatorade and one red one. "Which one?"

Mickey glances over and grabs the blue one from his hands. "Thanks," he says, setting the drink down next to his bag. "Ready to go?" Ian nods and then follows Mickey out of the locker room and into the gym. Mickey walks over to their usual spot and wraps his hands up in tale. Ian sighs and looks at him.

"Can't you wear gloves just this one time?" He asks which earns him a dirty look. Over the past few months of boxing, Mickey's knuckles had become torn up. They were red and bruised, but Mickey didn't mind it one bit. He liked the sting against his knuckles that came every time he hit the bag.

"Nope," he says, grinning over at Ian. "Now stop bitching and hold the bag for me." Ian sighs but knows better than to protest. He holds the punching bag and peeks his head around the corner.

"Give it your best shot," he grins. Mickey rolls his eyes as he tries to suppress a smile. He then holds his fists up and hits the bag hard one time. He then takes in a deep breath and hits it again and again, going until his arms feel weak and he's dripping with sweat.

"What's your name, kid?"

Mickey turns around to see a trainer standing behind him. He was a taller man with dark skin and short hair. "Mickey."

He nods, the small smile on his face. "You've got a hard hit. Why don't you get in the ring with someone? I wanna see what you got."

Mickey nods, smirking. He loved showing off how hard he could punch. It was one thing he did best.

"I'll go in there with you," Ian says, shrugging. Mickey raises an eyebrow and looks at him.

"No way, Gallagher," he says. He had already hit Ian too many times for his liking and he didn't want to do it again.