𝘚𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦: 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥.
-
I grab a box of cereal from off the top of the fridge and stick my hand into it. "Okay, seriously?" I ask. "Who the fuck put an empty box back on the fridge?"
Of course, nobody answers me. I throw the box and hit Iggy's head. "Fuck, Mickey! What the hell?" He groans.
"You guys are so pathetic. What are you, like 40 now?" I mock.
Iggy rolls his eyes. "I'm 23."
"23 in dog years?" I laugh.
"Well, at least I didn't try to kill myself." He mumbles underneath his breath.
My smiles fades. "What the hell did you just say?" I walk over to him and grab him by the collar of his shirt.
"I'm sorry! I ain't say nothing!" He whines and I almost punch him but then I realize he's not worth it and just walk away instead.
In the bathroom, I stare at myself in the mirror. I attempt a couple of deep breaths to calm down but then—suddenly—my fist is hitting the glass. It shatters.
"Shit!" I wince in pain, blood trickling down my knuckles. I pull out a few pieces of tiny glass but ultimately give up and leave the last pieces there.
"Doesn't matter." I whisper to myself as I walk out of the front door, "nothing matters." I sit on the stairs, lighting a cigarette.
For hours it seems, I'm sitting alone on the stairs, the world playing in front of me like a TV show I can't bother to turn off. The cigarette I lit has burned out and I realize I didn't even smoke it. I throw the cigarette butt and shake the ashes off of my hands.
I look at one of the many bottles of beer glass and pick one up, shaking it to see if there's anything left in there and shockingly, there's not. "Gotta do fucking everything around here." I mutter, standing up and making my way to the store.
The streets of Chicago are empty as I walk. Morning turns to night and everything is silent the entire time. I reach the store sooner than expected, walking inside and cooling down immediately.
"Summer, huh?" I laugh a little. The cashier looks at me like I'm crazy.
"Can I help you with anything?"
"No, that's fine." I say, walking to the back of the store and grabbing a case of beers. I set it on the counter and pull out some money. "Some cigarettes too, please. Whatever is the cheapest."
No conversation happens. Not that I was expecting any but it's nice to talk to someone sometimes. Even if it's just a "Hi".
I leave the store and sit out in the front, using the case of beers as a chair, I light a cigarette and let it burn.
"You don't have to come inside." I hear someone talking from afar. Eventually, two people come into view: Lip and Ian Gallagher.
Ian writes something on his notepad and Lip nods, walking past me and into the store. I wonder if he even saw me sitting there. I've never been invisible before because I always made sure someone saw me. I was afraid to not be seen.
"Gallagher." I wave over at Ian. He just looks at me and that's when I remember that he doesn't talk anymore. I stand up and walk over to him. "Hi."
He writes something: What happened?
"What do you mean?" I ask.
Your knuckles.
I look down at them and shrug. "I don't know." I lie, but he doesn't buy it. "I got mad." I add and he nods. "What uh.. how was your birthday?"
He doesn't reply, instead he reaches for my cigarette. I reluctantly give it to him, watching as he drops it and crushes it underneath his shoe. "Why'd you do that?"
You were burning yourself.
"Was I?" I ask but it's not really a question. I was, I think, why was I doing that?
We stand there in silence for a while. I don't mind standing or silence but I mind having this question in my head.
"Why don't you talk anymore?" I ask.
His lip quivers like he's going to say something—or like he wants to say something but doesn't know how. He writes it down instead.
Would it matter if I did?
I don't know what this means but I can tell by looking in his eyes that it hurts him. Thinking about it, his eyes have always looked this way. Every time I've seen him, it's looked like he was hurt. Even when he did talk, and I know that's partly my fault.
"I'm really sorry." I find myself saying without meaning to. "for everything." I add.
Okay.
I smile a little. "Not that easy, I guess. I just want to die with a clear conscience."
He raises an eyebrow. Die?
I laugh. "Yeah. We're all gonna die, aren't we?"
It's silent again. Eventually, Lip comes out of the store and him and Ian leave. I stand in that same spot for some time. It's when the sky is brightening that I finally leave.
Would it matter if I did? I think about what Ian asked while walking home. "It would matter." I say. "I think it would." I wish I had told him.
-
Mickey: It would matter.
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MUTE || Gallavich
Fanfiction[Complete] Ian Gallagher hasn't been mute his entire life, in fact, he's just gotten used to it. When troublemaker Mickey Milkovich moves back onto his neighborhood, he finds out that his bully isn't the same as before: he's nice. Mickey plans to s...
