How I fell in love with Ian Gallagher

How Ian Gallagher would never understand

I cried for hours. I wasn't proud of it.
I had hid in one of the buildings in a corner and just cried. Hands pressed on my ears, but I could hear their voices though. I completely broke down in a way I never thought would be possible.

I had a panic attack, that's what it was, and I was all alone.
There was no Ian and there never would be again.
I was all alone.

But after a good week I understood, I've always been alone.
Before I met Ian, I've been alone, and I survived that. Even with Ian, I've been alone most of the time, because I wouldn't let him in, not really.
Now I did let him in, when he slept at my place, and it was my biggest mistake.

I wanted to be held by him, comforted and protected, just once in my life!
I needed to be touched by him in a protective way, just once in my life, I needed to feel his arms around me, I needed to feel like everything would be okay and he would be the one who makes it okay, just once!

But I was all alone.

And it was okay because that's how it's always has been and I survived so far and I would just go on surviving, not living, just surviving.
There was a fine line between living and surviving.

Living was being with Ian, watching movies at my house, playing x-box games together with him and Mandy, while he tried to not laugh his ass off, because she didn't notice we just fucked in the next room.
Living was, waking up and seeing Ian in my kitchen trying to make a breakfast out of the emptiness of a poor guy's fridge.
Living was, running away with Ian through alley ways, chasing each other, after having just beaten up his other affair.

Surviving was drinking with my dad to my impending wedding to a woman who raped me to make me straight.
Surviving was, sleeping in one bed with her while having nightmares about her touching me.
Surviving was, playing daddy to her child that may or may not be my rape-child and pretending to be happy about having a kid with that woman.
Surviving was, beating Ian up for the awful things he said, hoping he wouldn't come back and be never hurt by my dad again.
Surviving was, never being able to live again and knowing it.

And this is what it's like being a Milkovich and Ian Gallagher would never understand.

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