Nightmares

Nightmare

  Mickey burst through the door knowing with everything he had that there was something dreadfully wrong. What he saw then made him stop dead in horror; there on the floor of their bedroom was Ian. The sheets at the base of the bed and the carpet all around him was soaking with his boyfriend's blood, the blood that was pumping from slashed wrists.

  Ian was twitching weakly, his eyes drooping and his head resting against his chest. The whole sight had Mickey frozen on the spot but then Ian let out a pained huff of air and then Mickey was in action, straight over to where the love of his was bleeding out on the floor. He grabbed up a pair of shirts just lying on the floor and pressed them to Ian's wrists. The boy wasn't there not really and he was dying. Mickey pressed harder down on his wrists but it didn't seem to do anything, the blood was still coming.

  He wanted to yell for help, god knows he couldn't make a phone call when he needed both of his hands to try and stop the bleeding that wouldn't stop. He tried to yell but he couldn't make a sound, instead he just knelt there holding his love's arms as he bled out. Why couldn't he yell? There had to be other people around but why couldn't he yell?

  Mickey realised that there was tears on his face and his hands were sticky with blood. It was seeping through his fingers, crimson against his pale skin. With difficulty he tore his eyes away from the shirts covering the wounds and looked up at Ian's face which was even more pale than usual. His eyes were half closed but it was clear the pupils were blown. His lips were parted as breaths rattled out of his chest but then they were coming faster and faster then started to slow... then he stopped.

  Mickey tried to call Ian's name but again his voice got stuck in his throat. Instead he silently shook the younger boy but he didn't respond, he was going cold and he was going cold fast. Right before his eyes Ian's skin turned blue, his hair white and frost formed over the entirety of him. The brunette tried to pull away in horror but he was stuck, frozen in place.

  Suddenly he jolted awake, panting and blinking in the relative darkness. Panting slightly he shifted, feeling the presence of his bed companion. With tentative fingers, Mickey reached out and touched his boyfriend's face, it was warm, there wasn't any ice and the moonlight showed pale white skin and bright red hair.

  Ian's chest was rising and falling in comforting, even, alive breaths and the hand that was resting above the covers was blood free, the covers blood free. Still, despite all the evidence Mickey raised both of his own hands to see the skin clean of everything but the black inked FUCK U-UP on the knuckles, the red blood seeping through them only a memory. He reached out his clean, blood free hand and touched Ian's face again, reverently, feeling the warmth from his living skin.

  The other man nearly stired so he slowly pulled back, instead just looking over the redhead's face and counting the freckles. He did that often because fuck was the point in counting sheep when you had a freckled lover. Now though he used it as an excuse to study the other's face because no way in hell would he be able to get back to sleep after all of that, not with the phantom stickiness of the blood on him.

  The moonlight was coming in strong through their curtain-less window, highlighting the younger's features and showing his freckles with more contrast on his skin than usual. He was beautiful in the moonlight, beautiful anytime. Mickey could admit that to himself now that he didn't have the shadow of his father looming and he didn't fear who he was anymore. Before he wouldn't have even been able to think about how gorgeous the redhead was let alone admit to himself that he loved the other man. Now was different though, now he could.

  In that moment Ian started to snuffled, turning his face into the pillow slightly before his eyes opened and he slowly focused on Mickey. His redhead had a sleepy squint but he still searched Mickey's face, hand reaching out to run through his hair. The wrist pressed against the side of his face was whole, no gouge or blood, just smooth, warm skin.

  "You okay Mick," Ian asked, voice scratchy from sleep.

  "Yeah I um... just a nightmare," Mickey got out after a while.

  "What happened?" Ian asked him softly, he had pulled Mickey closer so that the brunette's face was actually pressed into his neck where he could feel the warmth and feel Ian swallow, feel the movement of his throat as he spoke. Felt the life.

  "You slit your wrists and I couldn't save you," Mickey said, lips brushing against the skin of Ian's neck as he did.

  There was a moment where neither said anything, Ian just held Mickey and Mickey just lay there basking in the warmth of his boyfriend, waiting for the nightmare to fully fade. He didn't really know what there could be to say in reply to what he had just said anyway.

  "I'd never try to kill myself when I have you Mick," Ian whispered into the quiet.

  Just that little confession choked him that Ian loved him so much that he lived for him. He knew that feeling, he felt the same way about his stupid redhead boyfriend. As far as things to say in response to Mickey's nightmare, that was better than he could have hoped for, much more comforting and... fuck he loved his Gallagher.

  "Love you," he said out loud against his skin once more.

  "Love you too Mick, completely," Ian replied instantly, pressing a gentle kiss on the top of his head.

  Mickey smiled into Ian's neck and knew that his boyfriend could feel it. He lay like that though, wrapped up completely in the lanky git's arms and felt himself being pulled back towards sleep.