Proud In Life

Chapter 9: Depressed

  Ian lay there staring at the wall as the sun rose and shon through the window, Mickey still asleep beside him. The man was curled into his back but his arms weren't around the younger which was more than slightly relieving for him. Just having him touch him this much... he'd never been around anyone when he was depressed before but now with the man he loved touching him it felt wrong. Undeserving. Like last night it made him itch and now he knew why and he hated it.

  When Mickey woke up and saw what was wrong it was going to be it. He hadn't seen Ian's bipolar before, he had only read about it online. It was one thing to read about it and a whole other world to live it and finally Mickey would see what a mess Ian was. He would rescind the whole thing about Ian being Yev's dad and he would regret his proposal. Ian would be out on his ass as soon as he left the bed- he was under no delusions that Mickey was cruel enough to kick him out while he was still like this.

  He'd have to go back to the Gallaghers' and see their knowing, smug faces and hear the "I told you so's". Never see or hold Yev again or feed him, never watch him grow or have his first word, first steps... anything. And he would deserve it because he was a mess and he shouldn't be allowed near a baby. Why did Mickey ever allow him near his son?

  The thought had him crying silently, the tears, fat and ugly, just rolling across his face, over his nose and down onto the pillow. At least he couldn't bring himself to make a noise because then he would wake Mickey and that wasn't fair. Then again if Mickey woke and saw the tears he would be even more disgusted by Ian than he already would be so with a stupid amount of effort he raised his hand and roughly scrubbed at his face until the tears were gone.

  In the hours that followed he drifted in and out of sleep, when awake always feeling the dull pit of despair eating away at him. This time though it wasn't as bad as the first day he had been depressed before, maybe it was the meds. Maybe he could get out of bed sooner this time so he could leave and not have to disappoint Mickey and be a burden in Mickey for as long. There was always small graces right... no. No there wasn't. It wasn't going to be that way because the world wasn't that kind. 

  "Morning," Mickey mumbled beside him, stretching and rubbing a hand down his arm making him tense up right away. "Don't normally get this pleasure. You okay after yesterday?"

  Mickey started to kiss down Ian's neck but he flinched away. He couldn't help it it just felt so wrong Mickey touching him. Especially like that with love and all. Wrong. He could feel from the movements on the mattress that Mickey was sitting up. Now was the time when he realised and then realised that he hated Ian and his disease and how unreliable and volatile and useless he was. 

  "What's up man?" Mickey said after a moment, "Seriously you okay?"

  Ian wanted to answer him, he did. Wanted to get him to go away so he wasn't looking at him and what a failure he was anymore. If he went away he wouldn't want to touch Ian and maybe if he went away then the itching would stop. God he had to calm down or he was going to cry again. No he had to hide, the world couldn't see him, Mickey couldn't see him. Where they the same thing? No they couldn't be because then the world was going to be gone. He was then... it made sense.

  Pulling the cover up over his head with a shaky hand, clamping it down like a shield. Now the world couldn't see him and if he scrunched up his eyes he couldn't see it, not even the blanket. Things could work this way. Mickey would go if he couldn't see him. He would definitely go when he realised, maybe he would go faster if he-

  "Ian is this... shit your meds aren't working," Mickey vocalised above him, once again trying to touch Ian only to have the red head slump away from it.

  With that Mickey got up and left, Ian relaxing slightly, closing his eyes and trying to keep from drowning in the sadness and voices in his head. It was hard though and it was taking everything and he was so tired. It was only morning and he was so weary. It wasn't even like when he ran and his muscles ached, it was the kind of tired you get when you were tired of life and you wanted everything to just stop.

  He was broken from his thoughts though as he heard the bedroom door open again and suddenly the blanket was being pulled down. It was slow and careful and gave Ian plenty of time to close his eyes again, something that was almost too easy with how heavy his eyelids were and how badly he didn't want to see the look in Mickey's eyes.

  "I made some toast. Want some?" Mickey asked, he was obviously crouching down beside him. The thing made his heart break. Why was Mickey even trying?

  He wasn't hungry though. The thought of food made his stomach roll, he didn't deserve it. Didn't deserve the food especially when it came from Mickey so he shook his head and didn't open his eyes. Instead he just heard his fiancee sigh and the clack of the plate being put down on the bedside table.

  "It's there if you want... just um please take the pills Ian," Mickey pressed. 

  That made him open his eyes. If he took the pills he'd get out of bed sooner and out of Mickey's hair. That was why Mickey was trying. So he carefully looked at the hand and the proffered pills, slowly reaching out a pathetically weak hand to grab them. Mickey was holding a glass of water but Ian swallowed them dry, he didn't want to have to touch Mickey again, and afterwards he just closed his eyes.

  Then Mickey tried to run his fingers through Ian's hair and his eyes shot open again and moved back on the bed away from him. He collapsed back down on the bed, exhausted from the effort, and pulled the blanket back up over his head.                        

  Once again he heard Mickey sigh before saying," It'll be okay Ian I promise."

  Ian didn't really believe him though.