How I fell in love with Ian Gallagher

How I was so naive to think Ian Gallagher could understand

Dad planned the whole wedding thing.

Svetlana had pretty much moved in overnight.
I got a bigger room, my brother's old room. It took me forever to put all my old posters up. Svetlana made me take all my Nazi-shit down, she hates Nazis.

I hate them too, but guess what, your new daddy-in-law is one, you ain't got a choice in this house. But apparently Svetlana could do whatever she wanted. Terry didn't give a fuck.

Only once he said to me, "She's your bitch, you gotta keep her in line."
But I had no interest in keeping her in line, not that I actually could do anything to her. Alone seeing her made my blood freeze in my veins, still. And I had to sleep next to her every night.
I never went to bed sober.

I entered the building the wedding would take place in.
Rows of chairs were already placed. Mandy had helped with that apparently.
In the end of the made up aisle was a banner saying
"Mickey & Svetlana 4ever" with a fucking tiny heart on the i in my name.
I wanted to throw up and light the thing on fire.

How come, no one here, really no one, got what was actually going on?
Mandy was blind, yes, but that blind?
When she learned I would get married, she freaked out.

For a second, I had hoped Ian would've told her what was going on, but he hadn't. She just freaked out about me ruining my life by marrying some whore I knocked up. But how could she think, I actually did this whole fuckery voluntarily?

Now she was actually "proud" that I took responsibility for "my child" and she thought, it was actually "sweet".
I wonder what would happen, if I would just tell her.
Would she do something? Would she help me?
When did I become so desperate that I wanted my little sister to help me out of this mess?
But... she just ran over her boyfriend's ex-girlfriend with a car, if I would've just told her at any point about me and Ian, she would've found a way to stop this wedding.

Now it was too late.

The suit I was wearing was too big and it felt itchy – I wanted to tear it off my body.
I paced around the room, I'm not sure what kind of room it was, but it was the only one without any other fucking people in it. And I needed a fucking smoke.

Suddenly the door opened.

Ian ran in, he stopped abruptly when he saw me and so did I.
What was he doing here? Why would he come back? And how did he know when and where this shit would – Mandy, yeah, alright.
But why would he come back again?

There was a moment of just staring at each other. I was actually glad to see him; I'd always be happy to see him when it comes down to it.
"You call me a punk for wanting a boyfriend or whatever", he started, I couldn't take another round of guilt tripping, not now, not minutes before I had to marry a person I hated. "But you're gonna marry someone, who screws guys for a living?

Did he still think I fucking wanted to do this?
"Who gives a shit it's a fucking piece of paper!", because that's what it was, wasn't it?
If Ian actually decided to come back, maybe he really wanted to be with me, really felt things I felt for years.
If he came back now, maybe we could go on and maybe this wouldn't have to end just now.
But that little hopeful voice in my head was laughed at by all the others.

He shook his head slowly, "Not to me"
I scoffed. What was I supposed to do? Pull him in front of my dad and the guests and just marry him instead? Did he think it would be that fucking easy?
He sighed and turned around to leave again.

I didn't want him to leave. I needed him and I needed to at least tell him that, tell him that I'm sorry for hurting him. I had to make him understand, that I wouldn't do this if I had any other choice. That I would choose him if I could. But I couldn't.
He couldn't go before he understood that.

"Hey come on, look, just because I'm getting hitched doesn't mean, we can't still bang. Okay? Alright?"
It was the only thing I dared to say about this topic. I wasn't sure if I could get emotional with him now, without breaking down and who knows what would happen then. In my stupidity I could try to run away with him, if that was his fucking romantic fantasy here, but my dad would find us and kill us both. I knew that and he should know too.

He turned around again and took a deep breath. I obviously said the wrong thing, but he said a thousand wrong things in the past weeks and they were far worse.
"If you give half a shit about me- ", he came towards me again.
"Hey, hey" I put my hand on his chest, keeping him at distance just for my own safety.

If I give half a shit about you?
I fell in love with you almost two years ago, when you visited me in juvie, you prick.
If I give half a shit about you?
I'd do everything to not loose you and I would do everything to keep you away from my dad, doing both is almost impossible.
If I give half a shit about you?
How can you just not know all of this?

"Half... Don't do this."
I don't have a choice, Gallagher, I just don't.
I looked at him, he looked at me pleadingly.

This isn't fair, none of this was fair.
It was not fair of him, to look at me like that, how am I supposed to respond to that?
Why couldn't he understand that I would run away into the motherfucking sunset with him. I would, if we'd live in a romantic comedy, but we didn't. This was reality. And reality goes on after the ending credits. And after the ending credits dad would find us and do worse than his broken nose, a cut on his chest and raping me. He was always the one who could do even worse.
And even if I wouldn't care at all about my own life, and I cared very little about that, who was he, to think I would let that happen to him?

His role in this was easy.
He was the one who knew all the background info on the situation, he was the one, left in sadness seeing his lover, or whatever, marry someone else. He was the sad, tragic character everyone felt for and I was the asshole for leaving him on the side and marrying someone else despite this look he gave me and the words he said.

But this wasn't a movie. And this wasn't a Taylor Swift song.
This was me trying to survive and making sure he could live with someone else.

I remembered, when we were on that roof top and he told me, what he saw in that geriatric viagroid.
"He isn't afraid to kiss me"
That seemed to be fucking easy by now, that whole going back and forth and working myself up about a kiss, seemed so fucked up now, it was so fucking unimportant compared to all the stuff that was going on.

I remembered, how only when I was alone with him, I could feel free and safe enough to admit to myself that I fell in love with him and all that crap and that I wanted to be with him and kiss him. Back then, when being alone with him loosed up this mindset that was pounded into me by my dad, he used to make me free.
It used to be so effortless with him, when it was just us, and no one would catch us. Everything seemed to be possible when we were alone, that's what it used to feel like.

All of this seemed so long ago, and I was just tired. So much shit stood between me and him and that rooftop.
Now all I could see was blood and cuts and all I could hear, was the sound of a fist coming down on bones, breaking them, all I could feel was Svetlana.
I wanted to be a bit free again. One last time if that's how it had to be.

I needed to kiss him again, be it the last time or not, to just show him how much he meant to me. I kissed him back then, because he meant so much to be and I didn't want him to fuck the other dude anymore. Maybe it would remind him on who was standing in front of him.

I wasn't Ned. I wasn't about to marry a woman to fake a life and fuck teenagers while acting to be a respected rich dude with loving wife and children because I fucking could.

I was Mickey, who was too afraid to kiss him for years, because kissing meant showing emotions and because I didn't want to fall too much for him, even though I already did.
Mickey, who was forced to do this and would never give a crap about a knocked up hand whore and who would never want to hurt you like I did.
Mickey, who would never lie to you. I would never lie to you about a wife or a child. I would never lie to you about anything.
I just couldn't always say everything you wanted to hear.

So, I kissed him to remind him on that.
Hoping he could understand everything I wanted to tell him, while I couldn't tell him.

And that's how I was so naïve to think Ian Gallagher could understand.