Bloody Knuckles • Gallavich

Hold your own

Mickey was terrified and hurt and tired. His ankle throbbed horribly as he walked down the sidewalks and his head was pounding horribly from the beating. He still felt disgusting all around from the beating and "the Russian". The only thing right now that was keeping him going was the thought of getting to Ian. He didn't know what was going to happen, but he couldn't live with his dad anymore. He felt like his only option was going to Ian because Ian always helped when he was scared.

Mickey was almost certain his ankle was broken because he was basically in tears from any pressure he had to put on it, but the adrenaline of getting to Ian was the only thing keeping him going. It was cold and he was shivering since he had forgotten a coat.

After what seemed like hours, Mickey reached the Gallagher's. He had to struggle with the steps and cling to the railing for dear life until he was finally able to make it to the door. He knocked on it before leaning to the side on the railing. Mickey waited for a few moments in the cold before the door cracked open and a familiar red head peered out from the other side.

Mickey could see a faint bruise around Ian's nose and he immediately felt a rush of nausea course through him. It was his fault Ian got hurt. "I-Ian?  Can I come in?"

Ian nods immediately. He doesn't hesitate to open the door. He moves to the side to let Mickey in, but keeps a hand on his back to make sure he didn't fall over.

"Mick I... I shouldn't have left," Ian says apologetically. "I should have stayed there."

"Didn't have a choice." Mickey mumbles and drops his bag to the ground. He felt like he was ready to collapse down with it. "Just... just don't wanna go back home. Figured I could crash here for a little while? Till I figure out somewhere to stay."

Ian rolls his eyes. "You're staying here." He doesn't ask it as a question before Ian wants Mickey here. He doesn't want him to end up back in the hands of Terry or somewhere worse. "Let me help you up the stairs to the bathroom. We have to get you cleaned up, Mick."

Mickey doesn't even try to argue or complain. He let's Ian wrap his arm under his shoulders and leans heavily against him as he limps his way up the stairs. As soon as Mickey reaches the bathroom, he found himself sitting down on top of the closed toilet. His whole body ached as the pain pulsed through his every bone. He felt like every inch of his skin was bruised and he felt disgusting from the inside out.

"Ian I... I'm sorry," Mickey mumbles. Ian rummages through the cabinet before pulling out peroxide, bandages and medical wrap.

"Mick, there's nothing to be sorry about. It's okay," he softly. He offers Mickey a small smile before dipping some wadded up toilet paper into the container of peroxide. "May burn a bit." Ian carefully cups Mickey's face as he dabs at the scraps and cuts that littered his face.

Mickey winced and groaned, but the pain from the peroxide was far less than the pain he experienced from his father's coming down repeatedly on his face. "I'm so tired, man. I... I'm tired of being afraid." His voice sounded weird as he spoke as if it wasn't his own. Mickey wasn't used to being so vulnerable, but he was tired of being afraid and he didn't want to feel that way anymore. He wanted to be free and Ian made him feel that way.

"I know, Mick. Fuck I'm sorry I didn't stay. I... I didn't know what to do and your dad he was already so mad that I-"

"Ian, I ain't mad about that. I'm not mad at you for that shit back there. If you'd of stayed he probably would have made her hope on your dick too. Wouldn't want that for you." He cracks a tired smile and he could feel the cut on his lip start to bleed a bit.

Before he could clean it himself, Ian was already there wiping it up. "Want you to stay with me now. I'll explain it all to Fi and we can just share my bed. Won't be the most comfortable, but don't want you going back to that house, Mick. Can't see you like this anymore."