One-Shots Of My Ships (Again).

+ Gallavich 1 +

3rd person P.o.v. // might be triggering so please read with caution!! // takes place around 4x12- season 5.

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Ian was laying in a bed. Who's bed? Right, Mickey's bed.

He had the covers up to his chin and wrapped around himself tightly. Middle of winter in Chicago, shitty heating, and barely any clothes on; resulting in Ian shivering violently.

He was facing the wall away from the bedroom door- which had just opened and closed. He could hear soft footsteps walking towards the bed, and soon felt it dip behind him.

"Ian," Mickey whispered softly to the unresponsive boy, "Ian. C'mon man, gotta put some clothes on and shower. Might get hypothermia."

The redhead only sighed. Tired. Bone-deep tired. Ending it would help Mickey feel better, make him free.

He felt the older boy's hands wrap around Ian's waist. He felt small but comforted in the embrace. Usually he was the big spoon, but he likes feeling the comfort.

He slowly turns into Mickey's arms, facing him. He wouldn't look him in the eyes. Ian nodded, telling Mickey he wanted to shower and wanted to put some actual clothes on.

Mickey slid off the bed and carefully pulled his lanky redhead off the bed. He staggered for a minute before walking to the bathroom.

He starts the water and makes sure it's not too hot and not too cold. He lets the water run while he and Ian sit on the edge of the tub, Ian's head on Mickey's shoulder with Mickey's hand running through the greasy, unwashed red strands.

Mickey stops the water and stands up. "I'm gonna go grab towels. You alright to be by yourself?"

Ian sighs. Even Mickey doesn't trust him alone anymore. He used to trust him. "I'll be okay Mick. I promise."

Mickey presses a small kiss to Ian's lips before leaving the bathroom.

Ian stands up and goes to the medicine cabinet, looking for-

He finds what he's looking for and as he goes to sit back on the bath ledge, the bathroom door swings open, revealing Mickey stopped in his tracks.

Ian tenses as Mickey drops everything in his hands. "Ian, what the fuck?!"

He feels choked up, like he can't breathe. How's he supposed to explain to Mickey what he was going to do?

"Mick," he starts weakly, "you weren't meant to see this."

Mickey walked over to him and kneeled between Ian's legs. He could feel his eyes starting to water with how broken his redhead looked.

"Then who the fuck was supposed to find you after you slit your fucking wrists?! Yev?! Mandy?! What the fuck Ian?!"

Ian wasn't looking at him. He was looking at his hand with the blade while tears were running down his cheeks.

His throat felt like it was getting tighter from crying. It hurt but he couldn't care.

"Mickey-"

"Fuck you. Give me the fucking blade," he says softly but with a lot of authority.

Mickey had his hands on his thighs, close to his hand resting on his thighs.

He wanted Ian to give him the blade. He needed Ian to give him the blade. Mickey didn't want Ian to do this, and Ian didn't want to do this to Mickey.

He opened his hand and Mickey slowly grabbed the blade, then threw it across the room before pulling Ian into a tight hug.

"I'm sorry Mickey. I'm so fucking sorry," Ian whispered. He was speaking between his sobs into Mickey's shoulder. His arms were around Mickey's neck and he had his hands in his hair.

"Shh. It's okay Ian. I'm not mad, I'm  not mad," he said softly into his hair.

Ian was hiccuping between his sobs and Mickey was rocking them back and forth.

He knew he'd have to take Ian to a hospital later. But for now he rocks back and forth while Ian's sobbing and Mickey's crying silently.

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Lol this took a while. But i posted something like this on my archive account @ multi_fandom7