Always going to be him//Gallavich

Nine

MICKEY
Ian returned from his interview, seeming different.

"Ian, you okay? How did the interview go?" I asked as he headed upstairs, not saying a word to me.

"Ian. You okay?" I yelled, following him.

When I entered his room, he had stripped his clothes and chucked the closest pair of pants on. He was facing the window, his eyes open.

"Ian, hey, look at me. What's wrong? Did you not get the job?" I got onto his bed, basically straddling him.

"Ian..." I kissed his forehead, hoping for some kind of reaction, but nothing.

"Leave me alone." Ian groaned, covering his head with the blanket.

"Fiona!" I yelled out, hopping off Ian. I stood at the edge of his bed, watching as Fiona walked into the room, confused.

"What's going on?" Fiona asked, confused.

"I don't know. I asked about his interview and he didn't respond." I glanced at Ian, who hadn't moved.

"Ian, hey. Look at me. You doing okay?" Fiona got onto his bed, worried.

"Ian." Fiona repeated his name, still not getting any response.

"Can you call Lip?" Fiona looked at me. I grabbed my phone and found Lip's number.

Within 15 minutes, Lip was standing at Ian's door, Fiona trying to get Ian to move.

Leaving Ian alone, we all got out, heading downstairs.

———
(3 Days Later)

Fiona exited Ian's room. He hadn't moved at all, he hadn't eaten or gotten up for any reason. He had just stayed in bed.

"So what do we do? He's been like this for 3 days now. He hasn't gotten out of bed. He's just been sleeping and I can't get him up. I tried." I started to worry.

"Do you think this what we think it is?" Lip looked at Fiona. I looked between them, worried.

"What was he like before this?" I questioned, confused by the fact that Lip and Fiona clearly knew something.

"Apart from him quitting his job, he was fine, happy." Fiona sighed.

"Do you know what this is?" I glanced at Ian.

"Yeah. We know what this is." Lip sighed.

"What's wrong with him?" I stared at Fiona, waiting for an answer to Ian's sudden change.

"Uh...depression, I think." Fiona looked like she was about to cry. Lip held her hand, supporting her.

"He's- He's depressed? What do you mean he's dep- we all get fucking depressed. How the fuck could we not, living around here?" I couldn't believe the answer I was given.

"It's not that kind of depressed, okay? Look...I could be wrong, but it could be Bipolar Disorder, like our mom." Fiona dropped the news. I was confused, having no idea what she was talking about.

"Bi- bi- bi- what? What the fuck is that?" I started really fretting about Ian.

"It's manic depression, Mickey." Lip spoke up, not able to accept this news.

"It's like high highs followed by low lows, over and over again. We'll get him an appointment at the clinic, and we'll see what they say." Fiona sighed, shutting Ian's door.

"Do you really think a clinic will help?" I asked, concerned about Ian's safety.

"If we don't get him to a clinic, he could end up doing something extremely dangerous...hurting himself. The sooner we get him to a professional, the sooner we can confirm or deny what we think he's dealing with." Lip sighed, following Fiona downstairs.

"I'll stay here with Ian, make sure he doesn't do anything." I insisted, heading back upstairs.

"If he gets up, or does anything, call us straight away." Fiona smiled, letting me head back to Ian, who had moved, just not a lot.

I shut the bedroom door behind me, looking at Ian. His eyes were open, but he was staring at what I thought was the floor.

"Ian, if you can hear me, which I think you can, I want you to know...that Fiona and Lip think it's a good idea to send you to a clinic. I agree with them, and will be there every step of the way to support you. I know that I seem like a tough guy who doesn't give a shit, but for you, I'll always give a shit, and I will always be there for you." I muttered to Ian, laying down beside him.

As I relaxed, trying to think of positive things, I heard the front door slam shut.

Confused, I made my way downstairs, panicking when I saw my homophobic father standing at the couch, a bat in one hand and a gun in the other.

Shit.

"Fiona, Lip, run!" I yelled, getting my father's attention. Avoiding all the swings of the bat, I managed to get a good distance away from him. He shot at me, narrowly avoiding my shoulder.

The second shot at me, however, got me. The bullet was shot through my leg, causing me to fall to the floor. Lip grabbed the nearby house phone while Fiona dropped to the floor, helping me get further and further away from my father.

Another gunshot went off. This time, it wasn't my father who took the shot. Looking up at the staircase, I saw Ian holding one of my guns, his face neutral. He didn't seem bothered by the fact that he had just shot someone.

"IAN!" Lip panicked, racing up the stairs to remove the gun from his hands. Still in extreme pain, I glanced over at my father, who was now on the floor, his shoulder bleeding out from the gunshot Ian had given him.