"Ian?” Mickey tilted his head.
There he was, after 8 fucking years. Suddenly, memories started flashing by. Memories of how they never got together, how he fucked everything up while trying to save him. It was the worst. Being convicted trying to help someone you love. Mickey still felt that longing toward Ian. He never did, for a second, had fallen out of love of this tall, ginger ale. Even if he fucked a lot of guys in prison, it was still his face he would cum to. Ian, on the other hand, he looks like he isn’t sure what to feel.
“Hey...” Ian just stared blankly at him. No, not blankly, regretfully. “When have you been out?” He asked.
“2 years ago.” Mickey replied, eyes on the ground.
“You served less than 8?” Ian asked in a monotone voice.
“Yeah. I did my time less because I tried to behave.” He let out a small smile.
“And you never bothered to look for me?” Ian inched forward. Oh how much he missed this asshole.
“I tried to change myself for the better, Ian. For you.” He moved in closer.
After that, Ian’s focus on Mickey’s face started to blur out and he saw that he looked better. He didn’t look like he needed Vitamin E, like he didn’t come from the cold winters of Russia. He was tanned, he was wearing a suit, formal and shit.
“That’s good. So, what brought you here in LA? This doesn’t feel like you.” Ian took his glance away from Mickey.
“Uh... I have a business thing going on here for the last year.” He replied.
“Oh?.” Ian raised his left brow.
“And what brings you here?” Mickey threw the question back at him.
“I’ve been doing modeling for calendars. You know those fireman kind of shit?” He looked at Mickey again. He don’t know if he missed him, or what. He doesn’t know if Mickey feels the same. He was confused, and didn’t know what to do. They really met out of the blue.
“Shit, are you famous now? Are there going to be those fucking idiots following you around taking pictures?” He joked. Well, at least he tried.
“Nah. Not there yet.” Ian smirked.
“How’s Yev?” He asked about his little shit.
“He’s fine. Actually, Svetlana scored this big-time politician. She’s a professional escort now. She even uploaded a photo of her trip to Paris.” Ian pulled out his phone and showed Mickey her photo.
“Damn, bitch still looks hot.” Mickey said. “Can I ask you a question?” He added, still staring on the phone.
“Why'd you never visit me again?” Mickey’s finger started to itch as he remembered how Ian abandoned him after visiting him in prison once, and he swiped left on his phone. What he saw shattered him. Fuck, he never thought he’d ever feel like this again. He thought he’s moved on. He thought wrong.
“Ian.” An unfamiliar voice rung.
Mickey tilted his head up, it was the guy from the photo. A taller, hunkier, and hotter black motherfucker. The tattoo on his chest suddenly tingled in pain...
annaxmalina
titsay
gummygunk
stormborns
snowghoul
germansingergirl
pixelskylines
discoholicmusic