Ian's body was covered in glitter and he could see the entire constellation made out of freckles and shinny lights ....as they danced off of his skin. He had fallen into the snow right outside of the club, and as he managed to kick the old sleaze bag that had managed to get Ian out of the club, and by the time Mickey got to them, the old hand was deep inside of Ian's pants.
"If I ever find you trying to molest an underage kid, I'll rip your fucking limbs apart."
His voice echoed in the now almost deserted street. It was early in the morning, and the only people around them were the few patrons of the lovely club where Ian worked. Who were now cowering away from Mickey, which was understandable because he looked like he was ready to punch out anyone that held his gaze for longer than a second.
"Come on Ian."
He barely managed to pick him up, He was completely out of it, his body feeling like it was made out of concrete as he held him as tightly as he could. A taxi slowed down in front of them and not really caring who it was here for. Managing to place him in the back seat, Mickey got after him, giving the driver his home address and throwing a bundle of money at him. His arms wrapped around the young boy, and no matter how many days and nights he had dreamed off the two of them being this close, even talking, anything. Now that Ian's head hung without control, he couldn't help but only feel dread. A feeling so all consuming that he felt he'd fall into the backseat and never be able to climb out. Ian came in and out of consciousness during the drive, but never longer then for a few seconds. He'd simply mumble something incoherent never fully managing to open his eyes.
The city lights shone down on them like it was accusing him of not fighting harder, trying better to find Ian. The black abyss of the sky proved no comfort and it didn't provide him a safe blanket as it usually did, hiding all the horrid little thoughts that stabbed at him whenever he wasn't able to fight them off. The ride was finally over, but getting Ian out of the car wasn't as easy as he had thought that it would be. But he somehow managed to drag him out, lifting Ian over his shoulder and closing the taxi door with his foot. As the engine roared louder, he found himself alone in the empty street in front of the steps of his house.
The windows were a perfectly muddled reflection of their surroundings. It would seem everyone was asleep, which was good, he really didn't feel like talking or explain anything to anyone. Taking one step at a time, he climbed the steps and opened the front door. The hallway stank of old cigarette smell and mold, a family smell, almost a fragrance that endlessly lingered in the air of these walls where he grew up. Not wanting to waste time out in the open, Mickey opened the door to his room and quickly closed it behind him. Slowly, with a lot of trouble, he placed Ian on his bed. And the boy shifted a few times before finding a position and calming down.
For a few moments he paced back and forth, his eyes moving from the clustered mess of the floor to Ian's face and then to his chest as it rose and fell gently. But those minutes turned into hours, and he could see the weak rays of sunlight creeping into the room. Not wanting Ian to wake up, he pulled the drapes over the window, and tucked Ian with a few blankets that were scattered around his bed. Ian barely moved, but he could see he was breathing and that was the only thing that that he cared about. Every now and again he would lit a cigarette but never finish it. His eyes focused intently on the shape of the smoke that was coming from between his lips, trying to figure out what he should do next, what he could do next.
The room was almost in complete darkness, but he could still discern the shapes in the room. He had already messaged Lip and Fiona and told them that Ian was safe, and that was the only thing they really needed or wanted to know. It was up to him to help him, to see what the hell had happened to Ian. Out of the two of them, Ian was the smart one, Ian was the one that had his goals, eyes fixed on the future, on things that were happening next. Future, he had a future. And now, he was coked out of his mind, lying in a ditch, and before that he rubbed himself all over anyone that had a few bucks to spare.
He didn't much mind that he would spend the rest of his life in this hell hole. On the brink of society where there was nothing to look forward to. If you took drugs, who cares, it's not like you'd amount to anything. Not that he'd amount to anything. A petty criminal that would be just that, never anything more than just that. But at least he had Ian, he had someone that would be someone, go somewhere. And that was enough for him. Enough to make him happy, to be satisfied that he was this small dodgy bus stop in Ian's long journey. And now, the only goal he had was to get Ian back to how he was. No matter what he had to do. Tie him down and beat this bullshit out of him, or burn down every fucking fairy jizz hole in the entire state.
Ian was the only good thing that has ever happened to him. Ian was the only pure thing that he was a part of, and he was not about to lose that.
