One drunk night// Gallavich

7

MICKEY
The walk home from the after-party was okay. Ian and I walked together down the paths that led us to our respective homes. Every time I looked over at Ian, he was either texting someone, or talking to someone. I didn't want to seem rude, so I kept my eyes away from his screen, but it was impossible not to listen to Ian talk to some dudes that were way older than him. I didn't mind Ryan, as he was possibly just older than me, and he seemed trustworthy, but Ian called at least 3 or 4 other guys.

Most of Ian's conversations started about new promotional material that his club would be participating in, before moving to certain regulars. I tried not to listen when Ian started talking about some regulars and their encounters in detail.

I walked in front of Ian, watching as he barely noticed. I kept hearing Ian laugh before talking about some detailed encounter with a guest, and it made me feel weird. Eventually, the call ended, and I walked back at Ian's pace, watching as he smiled at me.

In all honesty, hearing about Ian's encounters with older men freaked me out, and Ian clearly noticed.

"Mick, what's wrong? You haven't spoken a word to me since we left Ryan's place." Ian held my hand, stopping me.

"It's nothing Ian." I didn't want to talk about it, but Ian seemed determined to find out why I was upset.

"Mickey, stop. If you have something that you need to say, say it." Ian smiled, holding my hand.

"When did you start working at the gay bar?" I asked, confused.

"I don't know, maybe...a year ago?" Ian tried to remember.

"Seriously?" My eyes widened. I wouldn't have minded if he was 18 and working there, but being 17, more importantly a minor, it freaked me out.

"What?" Ian didn't seem weirded out.

"You were an underaged dancer at a gay club? What, you just walked in and claimed to be over 18 years old and they let you in without any ID?" I was now concerned.

"I am tall for my age. I'm 18, yes, but I look to be about 20 years old, maybe older. Besides, I may or may not have gotten myself a fake ID." Ian smiled.

"Ian, not only is that illegal, but that's like...disgusting. There were probably 45 year old men who thought they were getting dances from a 23-year-old, but actually, they were groping a 17-year-old." I looked at Ian, who looked unfazed.

"Okay, first of all, no one in that club knows my real age. Secondly, it's a job that I enjoy because I get paid for dancing on a stage." Ian smiled.

"Well, as your spouse, I don't feel comfortable with you being 18 and working at a gay club with mostly older patrons putting their wrinkly fingers near your cock." I looked at Ian, who laughed, thinking that I was joking.

"What? You're not joking?" Ian laughed.

"Why the fuck would I be joking? I'm your husband, Ian, and I should have a say in where you are employed." I looked at him, concerned.

"Oh, so I'm your husband now?" Ian's face dropped.

"Y- Yes." I wasn't sure where our conversation was going.

"What kind of bullshit is this?" Ian rolled his eyes.

"What bullshit, Ian? I have a genuine concern and you're not listening to me." I tried to reason with him.

"Since we found out that we were married, you have made it very clear that I am not your husband. I was very hurt at first, seeing as I love you Mick, and the idea of being legally married to you seemed fun. But now, you're ignoring your past statement and pretending like I am your husband and your opinion counts. Well, newsflash fuckhead. It doesn't." Ian hissed.

I was taken aback by Ian's comment. He was right. I had made myself clear that he was not my husband, even though we were legally married. But now, I was finally getting used to being married and getting used to having Ian as my spouse.

"Y'know what, Mickey? You can take this." He removed his wedding ring and put in my hand. I looked between the ring and him.

"Ian, what are you doing?" I tried not to cry, watching as Ian exhaled.

"Until further notice, I am not your husband. You are not my husband. We are not married. I'm going to live my life, and I don't want you apart of it." He sighed, walking off.

I deserved it. What Ian had just done, I deserved it. I acted like a prick to him, and now, he was just doing the same thing. I wasn't mad at him for getting upset. He had the right to be. I was just shocked that he didn't do it sooner. I walked home, trying not to cry.