Gallavich Oneshots

Okay, Mick?

This was originally written as a school project, but I'm gonna post it here instead. It's really sad, and it only mentions Ian. 

Trigger Warning: Child Abuse 

Mickey's hands shook as he heard the front door slam. It wouldn't be his mother, she was too quiet to ever slam a door. Mandy was tucked away in her room across the hall, and Iggy was out with some of his friends. He didn't really know where Colin, Jamie, or Tony were, but it was probably juvie. Even if there had been a chance of it being one of his siblings, the idea was far from his head, because there was a shout of Mandy's name and he could hear footsteps as she timidly made her way into the living room.

He heard screams from his father, but he couldn't make out everything he said, a few muffled curses and shouting about who drank the beer in the fridge, was all he could understand. He doesn't know why Terry would be asking Mandy, of everyone in the house, the seven year old girl was the least likely to have drinken it. Mickey is pretty sure Iggy took it to his friend's house when he left, thinking their dad probably wouldn't come home that night, because nobody had seen him all day.

He slips off his bed, socked feet padding on the wooden floor. When he walked into the living room, his dad was walking around, angrily tossing his arms as he yelled. Mandy was cowering against a wall, so he walked over to her.

"Hey, Mands," he said, quietly. His father hadn't noticed the nine year old that entered the living room, and he wanted to keep it that way until Mandy was safely in her room, the door closed. "Go back to your room, okay? I'll handle him."

She wrapped her arms around him in a quick hug before running to her room. He waited until he heard the lock on her door click and then he turned to his dad.

"Dad!"

His father turned, stumbling over his feet as he headed towards Mickey.

"Where'd the little brat go?" his voice was loud, it always was. It reminded Mickey of thunder, which is why he hated storms.

"She's in her room, she didn't drink your beer." Mickey always tried to stay calm while talking to his dad, he'd never raise his voice or swear, his dad would only yell more.

His dad's screaming continued, curses and slurs, spilling from his mouth as though they meant nothing to him, and, Mickey thought, they probably didn't. He advanced on Mickey, one hand coming up around the young boy's neck, the other pulled back, ready to land a punch. The first blow hit his face, and then another, and they stung. The next few came to his stomach and chest before he was dropped unceremoniously to the ground.

His head banged off the heater standing against the wall and he blacks out.

~

He wakes up a few hours later, Iggy's hand gently shaking his shoulder. His older brother leads him past his dad, who's passed out on the couch and through his bedroom and into the bathroom connected to it. He sits down on the closed toilet lid and watches as Iggy pours something onto a wet rag. Iggy presses it to a cut on his forehead, and Mickey winces from the sting. His brother cleans his face, and puts a bandage over the cut on his cheek.

"Okay, Mick?" he asks, he's always there to help after Terry. Sometimes he's home during it, and whenever he is, he steps in, makes sure no punches hit Mickey or Mandy. It's always like that, the oldest home when the fight breaks out has to protect the younger ones. When he can't help, his mom does, but she doesn't usually because she's comforting Mandy. "Ribs okay?" Last time, two of his ribs had been fractured, it had been much worse.

He takes in a deep breath, there isn't any pain, so he shakes his head. His ribs are fine, but that doesn't mean there isn't any nasty bruises. His brother nods, and follows Mickey from the bathroom to the bedroom.

"G'night, Mick." Iggy says, closing the door as he heads to his own bedroom. It isn't late, probably only 7 o'clock, but Mickey isn't leaving his room for the rest of the night. He lays back on the bed, dark hair against his white pillowcase. After a few minutes he hears the door close again. His hands don't shake this time. It closed quietly, his mother. He hears her in the kitchen, cooking something for dinner.

He knew he was different than his brothers, he didn't like to hit people, he never did, unless his dad was there. He would rather hang out with Mandy then cause trouble with the boys his brothers hang out with. His dad hates the Gallaghers, something about their dad owing him money, but he made friends with the Gallagher boy on his little league team. His name was Ian. He had bright red hair and his face and hands were covered in freckles. Mickey had freckles too, but they were barely noticeable compared to his. Iggy had once told him a girl in his class was cute, but Mickey would much rather think of Ian like that.

He always sat with Ian when they were in the dugouts, and they ate lunch together. Ian got picked up by his sister, Fiona, his parents were never there either. Sometimes Ian's older brother would come and watch the games with Fiona. She was the oldest, and his brother was Mickey's age. Ian was seven, just like Mandy, but Mickey didn't mind that.

Ian never showed up to practice with bruises like Mickey did, but sometimes he looked a little skinnier than Mickey thought he should. Mickey's mom looked like that sometimes, but she always made sure the kids had enough food. Terry ate a lot, but whatever she could set aside went to them. His mother was always the happiest when his dad was gone, but it only ever lasted a few months. Mickey wished his dad would get arrested for something serious, so he would be gone for a long time. The last time his dad was gone, his mom made him a cake for his birthday and he actually got to eat some.

"Mikhailo, dinner." she was outside his door, she would never yell, not with Terry passed out on the couch.

"I'm not hungry, mom." Mickey's stomach grumbles as he stops talking and his throat is dry. He wants a glass of milk, but he won't leave his room. She sighs and he hears her walk across the hall, and Mandy follows her back to the kitchen to eat.

A few minutes later his mom is back at his door. She comes in this time, carrying a plate of food, and a glass of water.

"Are you okay, Mikhailo?" she sits next to his head, placing the food and water on the little table next to his bed.

"I'm fine." He thinks maybe he's getting colder. Maybe he'll be more like his dad, and the curses and slurs will fall from his mouth like they mean nothing, and maybe he'll hit people, and hate the Gallaghers. He doesn't want to turn into his dad, doesn't want to hit kids or people who say things about him in public. He wonders if it would be better if he acted different, if he stopped hanging out with Ian, and started hitting him instead, if he yells and swears at people for no reason, at Mandy or his mother. He decides that he'll do that, when his dad is around, but when he's alone, he'll be who he wants to be. He thinks that maybe then his dad will love him, and maybe he won't get hit anymore.

He yells at Ian when his dad shows up to pick him up instead of his mom, shoves Mandy off the next time she tries to hug him while Terry is watching, and he snaps when his mom calls him by his full name. Ian starts to hate him, Mandy stops trying to hug him, and his mom looks at him differently. His dad still hits him, and he still doesn't love him. Mickey gives up.