biological 》ian gallagher

eighteen

As soon as Ian's eyes opened, he sat up. Looking around the room, he saw no sign of Rosie's presence. Kicking the blankets off of him, feeling a little dizzy from finally standing up, he rushed down the stairs.

"Rosie?" Ian called out, as he ran down the stairs. Immediately grabbing the baseball bat from the wall, he entered the kitchen, ignoring Frank, who was still sleeping on the couch. "Rosie!" Ian yelled again, making Fiona turn around with wide eyes at the sound of his voice.

"Mornin'." Fiona smiled, seeing Ian up, but worried at the sight of the bat in his hands.

"Where is she?" Ian asked, pacing around the kitchen. After searching under the table, he moved back towards Fiona. "Where the fuck is she?" Ian asked again, making Fiona step back, slightly.

"Ian, she's okay. She's with Mickey." Fiona tried soothing him, but it was no use. Immediately grabbing his shoes, he slipped them on without lacing them. "Ian, stop." Fiona stated, putting hands on his shoulders as he still didn't let go of the bat.

"Get out of my way, Fiona." Ian stated, sternly, not wanting to hurt her, but would if she got in the way again.

Pushing by Fiona, Ian rushed to the front door, ignoring Debbie, who stared as he walked out the door.

"Where is he going?" Debbie went into the kitchen, towards Fiona, who was just as confused and worried as her.

"I gotta text Mickey." Fiona stated, answering Debbie's question as she pulled the phone from her back pocket.

Approaching closer to the Milkovich household, he didn't care who would be inside, as long as Rosie would be there at the end of the day.

Using the palm of his hand, he banged on the front door, violently, not stopping until someone would answer the door.

When Mickey opened the door, Ian held the baseball bat up to his face, making Mickey take a step back with raised eyebrows.

"Where the fuck is she?" Ian asked, walking by him, towards the living room. Knowing the house too well, Ian found no problem in navigating his way around. Mickey followed him, grabbing the baseball bat with a firm grip, just to keep him from swinging it.

"Ian, chill the fuck out." Mickey stated, sternly, as he pulled the bat from his hand, tossing it to the floor. Before Ian could do anything about it, he was pinned against the wall by his shoulders, restraining any use of his arms.

"Where is she?" Ian glared at Mickey, who furrowed his eyebrows at the crazy look in Ian's eyes. Before Mickey started speaking, Ian noticed Rosie, who came from the hallway. She stood in the background, staring in fear as the only two people she truly trusted were arguing.

"She's fine, Ian. See?" Mickey noticed the stare behind him. Mickey moved his head, so Ian was forced to look at him. "You need help, Ian. You're going to a psych ward, or a fucking E.R., it's your choice." He said, firmly. There was no time to try and keep Rosie from hearing his words, now. Mickey had thought that Ian would have shown up, but never, truly, thought that it would be as crazy as this.

Ian's face seemed to fall; the bags under his eyes becoming more prominent from the lack of sleep. Defeatedly, Ian sighed, allowing Mickey to ease his grip on him.

"I didn't know how important this was to you." Ian said, looking at Mickey, momentarily. "Just, let me take a shower. I'll be ready." Ian tried to sound as defeated as possible. Mickey took his hands away from his shoulders, feeling like he had won the war between them.

With one last look towards Rosie, Ian made his way to the bathroom. Mickey looked back at Rosie, who stared back in fear.

"Are you okay?" Mickey asked, to which Rosie just nodded. Mickey tried approaching her, but she backed away. Realizing that it would take some time for her to recover, he sighed. Walking by Rosie, he went straight to his bedroom. Sitting down on his bed, he felt the sudden urge for a cigarette.