You Came Back?
『❆』 Mickey Milkovich
Ian was so fucking done. He couldn’t take it anymore. Being in that house every day, being bombarded by everything. He felt like he was going to explode. All he did was work and come home and work and come home and try and save Lip who was on a downward spiral and try and help Debbie who never fucking listened and now Monica was dead and Fiona was acting like it didn’t matter. And that was fair enough because Monica was never there for any of them. Except that wasn’t true. She left and that was shitty and she wasn’t redeemed in Ian’s eyes. She gave him shitty genes, and that was true. But she was there when he was scared and running. She was there when he was locked away. She was there for him. She took care of him. Even if she was doing drugs and with a scum of a guy. She was there. She tried. That meant something to Ian. He was mad. Mad because Monica left, mad because she should have tried harder, mad because it was her fault he had this illness, mad because what the fuck was he supposed to do now? Who was going to understand? He was pissed off that she was dead. Pissed off that Fiona was talking so badly about her. Even if he was right. Ian just wanted a fucking mother. He just wanted her to change and to understand him and help him and now she never could because she was dead.
The whole time he had been thinking he didn’t even realize that he had been running. But now he wasn’t running. Now he stopped and he was transported back in time. Back to when he had floppy red messy hair atop his head. When he had a baby face covered in freckles. When he wore plaid shirts too big for him and saggy jeans. When he had ran here because he didn’t know what else to do or where to go and he just wanted to see Mickey. He remembered it was because Monica was back and he was terrified. Now she was gone and he was still terrified. There was the Milkovich house in all it’s glory. Standing empty. Or maybe it wasn’t. And it was stupid. But he’s up the steps and taking shaking breaths. He’s older now. His hair is only long on top and his skin isn’t covered in freckles because he grew out of them. He’s taller and filled out, but he still feels like that scared little boy. He knocks. But no one answers. No one comes out. Not Mickey. Not Mandy. Mandy who had been his best friend for so long. He feels so alone. More alone than he’s ever felt in years and he’s scared. He wants to go inside and find one of Mickey’s shirts and wrap himself up in it and cry but he can’t because he can’t bear it.
Ian’s legs crumble and he ends up on the top step. His knees bent and on the first step downward. His bottom planted on the top step and his head bent and resting on his kneecaps. His arms wrapped around his knees, shaking. His hands are in fists so tight he’s shaking. Before he knows it a sob rips through him. It exits his mouth so loudly it scares him and before he knows it he’s crying. He’s crying so hard that snot is running out of his nose and he wipes it on his jeans. He cries until he can’t cry anymore. He wants to hit something. He wants to scream, because he should have went with him. He should have went with Mickey and he thought he was doing what was best for both of them and he hadn’t been.
Leaving Mickey scared him and he thought that meant it was the right thing to do and Fiona made him think that to be true and he had built a life and gotten stable. But he had been so wrong. Mickey kept him stable and right now he was anything but stable and he should have went. He stopped crying at some point, but he sat with his head in his knees. His tall body folded into a small ball of harsh breathing and rushing thoughts. He sat like that for hours. Leaning against the side of the house. He thought about Mandy a little, but mostly about Mickey. About everything they did together. All the times he laughed and waking up in each other’s arms. The more he thought about it the sicker he felt. He fucked up, bad. And now he was lost and he didn’t know what to do.
@milkovichsmickey
