Chapter Text
The bed was empty.
The sounds of whatever stupid tv show Yevgeny had thrown on as soon as they walked through the door faded away and all Mickey could hear was the woosh of his blood pounding in his ears.
He braced himself on the doorjamb. He needed to think this through. Where could Ian be? He rubbed a hand down his face slowly.
His brain was flickering through so many emotions it was impossible to think. Anger, rejection, fear, sadness, and finally, back to anger.
He could work with anger. That fucking asshole left again.
This time he wasn't letting him stay gone. He knows now, is intimately aware, that Ian is really sick. This time Mickey isn’t gonna let him disappear. He loves him. Even if Ian doesn’t want to be with him, Mickey can’t take another day of not knowing he’s safe. Now that he knows Ian isn’t somewhere living it up in a brand new life. Not that he ever really believed it. But he had to pretend, otherwise Ian’s absence would have eaten him alive. No. Ian fucking Gallagher wasn’t getting the slip on him again. He would tie him up, throw him in the trunk, and drive him down to psych intake himself if that’s what it took.
Mickey pounded on Svetlana’s door and shouted, “I’m leaving again! Kid’s in front of the tv!”
He waited for a murmur of response from the women within the room and left.
It was surprisingly easy to find him.
Mickey had set off in the direction of the encampment under the bridge, thinking maybe Ian was looking for a fix and that’s probably where he knew how to get one. But he’d only made it a few streets down before he spotted him, red hair and Mickey’s own sweats which ended way too short for Ian’s height, banging on the door of what was once the Kash n’ Grab, but the sign now simply said “CONVENIENCE”.
Mickey hustled over and tried to pull him back, but Ian was determined.
“Why the fuck won’t you sell to me? I used to work here!!” Ian demands as he pounds on the glass door, seemingly unaware of Mickey behind him.
The man inside was furiously trying to push Ian back enough to lock the door, “YOU GET AWAY OR I’M CALLING THE COPS!”
“Don’t call the fuckin’ cops!” Mickey shouted as he got in between Ian and the door.
“I have money you fuckin’ asshole!” Ian continued even as Mickey finally managed to pull him back, “You fuckin’...” he managed to shout before his body was once again wracked with coughs from deep within his chest.
“Just sit the fuck down.” Mickey said as he guided Ian to sit on the curb.
“Why wouldn’t he let me in? …I found some change in these pants.” Ian mumbled as his coughing settled.
“Probably because you aren’t wearing a shirt and you’re yellin’ like a lunatic!”
Ian looks abashed. “I... I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know where to go.”
Mickey sighs in exasperation. “Ian. Just stay with me for a bit, okay?”
“I can’t. Mickey!” Ian looks at Mickey in panic. His hazel eyes look wild and strung out. “I fucked everything up. I didn’t mean to come back! I meant to stay gone… Everything is so much better if I’m gone.”
“Hey, what the fuck, man.” Mickey grabs one of the hands Ian is flailing as he talks animatedly. “No one wanted you to go.” Ian just shook his head and pulled his hand, trying to get it out of Mickey’s grip. But Mickey was scared of losing him again and held on tighter. “Will you just come with me? We can get some food. You hungry?”
Ian met Mickey’s eyes with a sad smile. “If I’m not high, I’m hungry, Mick.”
Mickey tried to look encouraging as he absorbed that little horror story. “Okay. Patsy’s.”
Ian looked panicked again and yanked his arm in another attempt to dislodge Mickey. “No no they don’t let me in there anymore.”
“The fuck they won’t.”
In the end they did let Ian in. But Mickey had to pay for their meal in advance and buy Ian a patsy’s branded tshirt after a heated argument with the asshole manager who seemed to get off on his power tripping and wouldn’t let the admittedly shirtless and twitchy man inside.
“I thought you were good at dining and dashing. How the fuck did you get caught?”
“It’s easy to get caught when you don’t particularly care if they catch you.” Ian said around a mouthful of scrambled eggs.
“Jesus Christ, Ian.” Mickey muttered into his hands.
Ian looked at him blankly. “I’m not him anymore, Mick.”
Mickey raised his eyes to meet the sad green ones of the guy sitting across from him. Those were the same eyes he remembered. That red hair, those pretty freckles. Long nimble fingers. “Of course you are.”
“No, Mick.” Ian looks pleadingly at Mickey. “I don’t know who I am. What I am. But I know I’m not him. Can’t be him anymore.” Mickey scoffs. This is bullshit. And he’s about to say so when Ian continues. “That person you knew died.” He gestures at himself. “This is just some shell I walk around in. I’m nothing anymore. Don’t you get it?”
“Ian.” Mickey pleads. “I missed you. Fuck, everyone misses you.”
Ian looks away. His eyes focusing on nothing. He shakes his head slowly back and forth. “I can’t.” he whispers. “I…” Ian pauses. Takes a deep breath. “Why are you here?”
Mickey looks at the man across from him in utter confusion. “Because I had to make sure you ate, man.”
Ian sighs. “No, Mickey, why are you chasing me down, telling me all this, trying to make me okay. I’m not okay. I haven’t been okay for a really long time. Since before I left. You know that. And I know I treated you like shit. You didn’t deserve half the things you had to put up with. You deserve better. I can’t remember how to be who you need me to be!” Ian was getting agitated again. His breaths starting to wheeze with the strain of breathing so hard with whatever he was sick with.
Mickey can’t fucking take this. He can’t take it from this boy that his soul is so entwined with. Mickey has been fighting for Ian ever since that day his dad found them. He’s sure as fuck not gonna stop now. He grabs both of Ian’s hands across the table and squeezes tight. As if he could get Ian back to himself through sheer will and physical contact.
"You're Ian Gallagher. You're 22. You're a brother. You’re a friend. You're a hard worker. You're an optimist. You are so smart. Lip might be the genius but you have the smarts that matter. You're determined. You're kind. You always look for ways to help. You love taking care of people. You're a dumbass. You annoy the shit outta me. You tell bad jokes. You try so hard. I can see you trying, man. Why else would you have kept going so long? You're charming as fuck. And Ian, did you know you're an uncle?" Mickey squeezes Ian's hands a touch tighter. Locks his blue eyes onto Ian’s hazel ones. "Debbie had a baby, and she has red hair like you, Ian. The three of you have red hair, and Debbie says she looks like you. You have a niece."
Ian's previously vacant eyes finally focus on Mickey. "I'm an uncle?"
Mickey wipes the tears now tumbling down Ian's face with his palms, "Yeah, man. You gotta meet your niece. You gotta go see your family."
Ian nods as more tears fall. “I don’t remember how to be their brother. I don’t remember how to be your…” his words fall away as he nervously starts tearing at his napkin.
Mickey reaches out his hand, palm up to the ceiling in invitation.
“Just stay with me, okay? Don’t leave…” he takes a deep breath. “Just don’t leave again, okay? We can figure all this shit out. You’re not nothing to me. You’re–”
He stops himself from saying what he wants to say. Which is that Ian will never be nothing to him. He is and always will be just about everything. But it’s too much right now. And Mickey has already laid more of himself bare in this restaurant than he has in about 4 years.
But it seems that maybe Ian has an idea because Mickey can make out an almost imperceptible twitch of Ians lips.
Ian finally takes Mickey’s hand in his. It’s cold and clammy, but it’s there.
“Now I know you’re not gonna like it, but we gotta get you to a hospital.”