Finger Paintings • gallavich

Bullet Wounds

They drove in silence the next morning to Yev's school. Mickey didn't want to talk and Yev knew not to ask. He was smarter by now and there was an unwritten rule between the two. Never ask daddy about the knew bruises or cuts on his body because by now Yev already knew where they came from.

"You'd never do that to me... would you?" The little boy whispers.

Mickey looks at him through the mirror. "Do what?" He asks, glancing back to the road.

"Hit me. Like grandpa does to you. You wouldn't do that to me, right?"

"Yevgeny, I get pissed off a lot, but I'd never hit you. We don't take after grandpa. He's an asshole and we don't want to be like him, okay?"

Yev nods. "I know. I'm just making sure because you said we're supposed to do what our daddy tells us and listen to him and grandpa is always mean and yells and I don't want you to be that way."

Mickey pulls into the school parking lot and parks their beaten up car. "Don't worry about grandpa, yevvy," he says. He gets out of the car and Yev follows him, grabbing Mickey's hand.

"Grandpa is an asshole," he says, nodding.

Mickey laughs and looks down at him. "Damn right he is," Mickey agrees. The two of them walk inside and as usual, Yev waves at all of the passing janitors. They get to Mr. Gallagher's kindergarten class and walk in. Ian smiles at them but his small falters when he sees Mickey's face.

"Hi, Mr. Gallagher!" Yev says excitedly, waving at him. Ian glances down at Yev and smiles.

"Hey, buddy. Class is just about to start. So why don't you hang your stuff up and take your seat? We're gonna be coloring today."

Yev grins excitedly and nods. He hugs Mickey tightly. "Bye, daddy. I love you," he says before running off to join the class. Ian stays there, his attention now back on Mickey.

"Can we talk?" He asks and Mickey immediately shakes his head.

"No, I'm running late for work," he says, turning to leave. Ian reaches forward and grabs his wrist. "It'll only take a second."

Mickey yanks his hand back and glares at him. "In the hallway," he says. Ian nods. He follows Mickey out to the hall and closes the door behind them. His eyes begin to examine his face. He had one bruised eye, a cut up lip and another cut on his eyebrow. His cheek was bruised and overall, he just looked exhausted.

"Mickey what the hell happened when you left?" He asks. He reaches a hand forward to touch Mickey's bruised face but the other man jerks his head back.

"Don't worry about what happened to me. I'm fine."

"Obviously not. You look like you've been beaten with a brick, yesterday you seemed more terrified than what you were showing. What else is going on that you aren't telling me?"

Mickey scoffs. "You don't have any fucking right to know about my personal life. What happens in my house is my fucking problem not yours."

"Mick, I care about you. That's why I'm asking you. I wanna help with whatever it is."

"Yeah, well I don't care about you. You're just a good fuck for me. You get that right? I don't know if you think we're boyfriend and girlfriend here but we're not. You're nothing but a warm mouth to me," he mutters. He still had left over rage from yesterday's fight with Terry and Mickey needed to get it out and poor Ian just so happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Ian takes a step back from him. Sure they had only known each other for a few weeks but Ian thought Mickey as more than just a good fuck. He liked him, cared about him. Obviously the feeling wasn't mutual. "Fuck you, Mickey. Yeah we fuck around most of the time but I actually kinda liked you. I thought there was more to you other than being a fucking dick but obviously I was wrong. Just go, Mick. Sorry I tried to help you," he mutters angrily before going back into his classroom.