Mickey Milkovich imagines

Smashed.

"What the fuck are you talking about, "smashing?" Mickey gives you a confused stare.
"Just shut up and come with me." You respond, not looking up from the bag you're filling.
"Jesus, (y/n), what is that stuff? Is that a bat?"
"Two, to be exact." You zip the bag and smile up at him.
You and Mickey had been together for about 3 months, and you were still learning the little things about one another. You had been extremely stressed out lately and needed some relief, ASAP. Mickey was you're favorite person in the world, and there was no one you'd rather do rambunctious outings with than him.
After tying your shoes, you stand and face him. "Ready?"
"Yeah, I guess." He responds, throwing his jacket on.
Bag on our back, you walk out the front door, he follows in silence.
"An explanation would be nice." He calls to you as you press on.
You let out a soft laugh. "You'll see."
The two of you turn multiple corners and cross a few roads. The houses become more and more run down with each street. Finally, you reach a tall, somber looking building, residing next to a large field. Shards of wood hang limply at its sides, the windows cracked and breaking.
"The hell are we doing here, babe?" Mickey questions, raising an eyebrow. "This place is scheduled to be demolished on Tuesday. I figured we could give them a head start." You answer, opening the bag to take out two beat up baseball bats. Mickey laughs, and gives you a long stare. "You surprise me everyday, you know that? I mean just yesterday you were drinking tea and reading some presidents bio-bioag. Whatever it was."
"Biography." You correct, handing him a bat with a smirk.
"And today, this?" He finishes, taking the bat.
"Why not?"
He looks at you again, not sure of what to say. "Hey I'm not objecting, this sounds fun as fuck." He finally states with a slight laugh.
"Grabbed this too." You reach into the bag and take out a bottle of whiskey.
"God I love you." Mickey says as he takes a swig.
After a few minutes of drinking the vile beverage, you make your way inside the abandoned building.
"Jesus, you can almost taste the asbestos." Mickey comments, spitting on the ground.
The floor is littered with broken glass, discarded papers, and old, dusty office supplies. You walk to the center of the room, swing the bat back, and then swing it as hard as possible forward. The ancient desktop computer goes flying across the room in a hundred pieces. You breath out a laugh.
"Jesus, (y/n). What's up with you?" Mickey says, staring a few feet away.
"I'm fine." You smile, sending another computer sailing across the office space. You had to admit, it felt amazing to do this. Aimlessly releasing your frustration on random objects. You had nearly forgotten Mickey was even there, and were on your fifth computer.
You heard a loud smash, and turned to see Mickey destroying a rotting desk.
"This is pretty fun." He says, breathing heavily.
"I know, right? Shoulda done this a long time ago." You say with a somewhat puzzled expression on your face. "I'm just so sick of it, y'know?" You raise your bat and smash a window. "School." Another window gets smashed. "My family." Smash. "Everyone telling me shit I already know." Smash. By now, nearly all of the windows lay in shards on the floor. You stop and sink to the ground, surrounded by the pointy glass. Mickey is by your side in seconds. "Jesus, babe, you okay?"
"I don't know." Was all you could manage to mumble. "Honestly, could be a lot better."
Mickey looks at you long and hard for what seems like minutes.
Finally, he speaks.
"Listen, I can't fix all the shitty parts of your life. I can't take you away from it all, and fucking believe me when I say I wish I could."
Your eyes meet his. "Mick, I know. It's okay-"
"It's not. You were there for me when I was in a dark place. You pulled me out. This relationship? It's a two way street, okay. I'm gonna help you through this. Even though we can't leave this shitty town, we have each other." He takes your hand.
You feel your heart swell with happiness.
"I love you." You whisper, leaning into him, breathing in his smell.
"I love you too." He whispers.