trouble | i.g

twenty - "trauma blanket"

Bella's POV

"So how long have you known about this?" I asked Lip idly who was currently sitting next to me, his leg bobbing up and down in an anxious matter. We were now at the police station, waiting to bail Ian out of jail.

There was a long moment of silence before he said, "Last year." I felt my heart skip a beat and I pursed my lips in dismay, narrowing my eyes at the blinding white floor beneath my pink conversed feet. Sitting in a police station was definitely not on my agenda for this Friday night.

I lifted the thick blanket that lay draped over my shoulders. "They've given me a trauma blanket."

"Are you traumatized?"

I thought about this for a long moment. I didn't know much about bipolar and it's side effects, but I did know that this was obviously serious considering that he's had it since last year. "Yes."

Lip and I sat alone on a row of plastic chairs inside the police station. Fiona had to continue working, Debbie and Carl didn't want to see their brother hurt, and nobody knows where Mickey is at this point. Ian and I had been brought here by a squad car, the only difference being that Ian sat in the back while I sat in the front, Lip borrowing Mickey's car. He was brother of the convict at the moment, I the supposed victim. And technically I wasn't supposed to be sitting by him. In minutes they would notice and send me back, but for the moment we were leaning on each other's shoulders.

"And I always thought it would've been Carl." He chuckled, running a hand nervously through his brown locks. I couldn't help but lightly laugh along, but that only lasted for two seconds.

"Lip Gallagher and Bella Young?" A voice called out from the right. Our heads whipped over to see an old, bald police officer with his left hand wrapped tightly around his gun, the other holding a paper in hand.

"Uh- yes. I'm his brother." Lip said as we got up and slowly made our way to the desk the officer was standing all mighty behind.

"And who are you in relations to Mr.Gallagher?" The police officer asked me. I honestly didn't really know how to answer that question. Ian never called me his actual 'girlfriend' and I don't recall calling him my actual 'boyfriend'. Before I could process his question, I slipped out:

"Girlfriend."

"Does your brother have a history of mental illness?" The officer asked.

"Yes." Lip sighed, eyes meeting anywhere but the police officer's eyes.

"After we dropped Bella off, we took him to the ER, they gave him a sedative, seemed to calm him down, but he's clearly a troubled kid."

"Is he under arrest?" I asked, feeling that flame of anxiety start to rise in my chest area, my palms starting to become sweatier and sweatier as the torturing seconds past.

"He'll have to face some charges, but we're not gonna hold him," The officer continued, "You need to get him some help."

"Yes, sir, we uh- we know."

The sound of keys jingling ran throughout the rather quiet station, causing us to turn our heads to the sound. My eyes widened when I saw the sight in front of me. It was Ian. His eyes were drooped, hair a mess as if he spent a day at the windy beach, and his jacket was hanging off his shoulder.

Lip was first to embrace him in a warm, welcoming hug. I stared at him for a while. It was as if I was suddenly frozen in time and I couldn't move a single muscle in my body. I used to know him as the annoying, charming boy with cocky flirtatious ways, but this boy was now a completely different person. His blue eyes shined brighter than ever from the tears that were threatening to spill from his pupils, crystal clear. He looked; broken.

••••

"We can just tell them that he's a drug dealer, right? They have to take him in." I exclaimed, trying not to awaken the passed out boy leaning on my shoulder, "There's got to be some kind of like 'danger to others' law, yeah?"

"No, it could be complicated." Lip replied and shook his head while his grip on the steering wheel tightened as he took a sharp left turn.

"Well, if he won't go, I'm just gonna call the cops on him. Tell them he's a drug dealer," I said, "They'll- they'll put him away for a while. At least he'll be getting some kind of help."

"You did alright, Bella." Lip assured me, turning his head back towards where I was seated, "Fuck, you tried. That's a lot more than most people would do."

The car came to a halt as we arrived in front of Cook County Psych Ward. I felt my stomach churn just reading the letters on the sign. I softly patted Ian on the shoulder, causing him to stir awake. He looked absolutely exhausted. Face ashen, eyes tired, and even his usual red copper hair seemed to be lacking color as he visually drooped. I obviously knew now wasn't the time to question him. But I wanted to know if we were ever going to address that big question hanging over our heads, the what now. What now that my mom would find out I was with Ian, he gets admitted into a psych ward, what would happen with us. What about the huge, fat truth that everyone was working so hard to split us apart, while we fought for the exact opposite.

Getting Ian to come inside was a true mission on our behalf. It was just Lip and I, so lots of help was amazingly needed. After his repeating protests to stop, we finally got him inside with two sore arms and one bruising cheek.

Now it was the fun part. I was scared to see how he would react knowing that he is certainly being admitted. "Just need your signature." Lip softly told him before Ian shakily grabbed the pen, beginning to write his name until he slowly turned his head around to lock eyes with me. I gave him a reassuring nod, his hand swiftly writing across the paper just as a young lady called out from the hall.

"Mr.Gallagher?"

All of our eyes looked up at the lady who was standing there patiently, smiling at Ian. He made his way over to me in a distinctive manner, struggling to find the right words.

"I'm sorry."

I then realized that he made broken look so beautiful and strong look invincible. As if he was walking with the universe on his shoulders and made it look like a pair of angelic wings.

I engulfed him in a tight hug. Even though I don't like touching, I felt a strong wave of an unfamiliar feeling crash over me, feeling the strong need to wrap my arms around his waist, bury my tear stained face into his neck, and breathe in his scent of fresh apple pie and blueberry. "Can I go in with him?"

"No, I'm sorry." She said with sincere just before the door opened leading into a white hallway with doors scattered along the walls, my bottom lip trembling with sadness and just overall, overwhelmingly nervousness.

He gave us all a small smile, beginning to walk down the halls as the door closed shut. I flinched at the loud sound, wrapping my fingertips around the caged metal, watching him brokenly limp. I felt a pain in my chest, the tears finally pooling out from my already redden eyes.

Maybe this is why I'm just so scared to touch happiness, because it only gets taken away again. Maybe this is why I push everyone away and maybe this is why I'm so guarded.

But I don't think I can even touch it without; love.

And I don't know how to love, not at all.

::

an: I'm sorry this was so shitty forgive me