Mirror Mirror ; Gallavich

Mirror Mirror

Fucking Christ I'm stressed.

"Mickey. Baby needs to be fed."

Svetlana, if you don't shut the fuck up I swear to God I will-

And now the fucking baby is crying.

Where's a miracle worker when I need one. Oh wait, in the army. Of fucking course.

Shit, I haven't thought about Ian in a long time.

I haven't even said his name in a long time.

"Ian."

The word feels weird on my tongue. Like a mythical creature. The type of enjoyable uniqueness, where you can't stop saying it because it's so pleasurable.

"Ian. Ian. Ian."

Gone. Gone. Gone. All thanks to me and my pussy bullshit. Couldn't even work up the nerve to tell him "don't go". Then again, if I said that and he stayed I'd never have the balls to talk to him again.

Fuck, I'm such a coward.

"Ian Gallagher." The name- His name- stings my tongue like hot sauce, so spicy that sweat beads down my scrunched forehead. It's like dipping your chip in mild salsa, but when you take a bite your mouth burns and you're in desperate need of water but there's none around. So you say fuck it and regrettably take another dip. Your cheeks burn and tears sting your eyes as you rush to the kitchen for milk. The spice quickly fades and you miss the burn and long for it, but you know that you're not brave enough to have it.

Ian's never been mild, he's the spiciest salsa and once he's contained he stays that way and you can't work up the nerve to get another taste.

What the fuck am I saying?

I walk into the bathroom. All this thinking about Gallagher is giving me a hard on.

I slam the door in protest to Svetlana's bitching. Shut the fuck up; her and the baby.

Who names a kid Yevgeny anyways? This is fucking America. Name it Tyler or something. Not that I'd care since the only reason I'm stuck with these assholes is because of Terry.

Don't think about that right now, Mickey.

Instead, I let my mind wander as I pick up a Guns and Ammo mag and pull out a picture of Ian.

I'm not one for pictures and Ian knew that, which would explain the confused look on his face when I pulled out an old camera and snapped a shot of him. I couldn't help it. His eyes shimmered and the Sun reflected off of his skin in a way that could only be described as genuinely perfect, his hair glistening with a hint of a blond reflection.

Fuck, I let go of a great thing.

Mandy always asks if I miss him.

No, I always harshly defend. He left me and it's not like I could've done anything about it. He obviously didn't care.

Bullshit. She knows it. I know it. Svet knows it. Even the Gallaghers and their little friends know it.

Shit, I wouldn't be surprised if one year old Yev- I mean, Tyler- knows it.

And this is all my fault. I could've stopped him but I didn't. I still don't know why my mouth wouldn't form words, and I beat myself up over it every fucking day.

DON'T GO. DON'T GO. My brain screamed those words, pierced my ears. But my mouth refused to open and my eyes began to tear as I realized that I couldn't do anything. Shock had taken over me.