Things won't always be perfect for Mickey Milkovich but he's using his voice now.
He knows getting help is more than fucking okay.
**
Being with Ian Gallagher, Mickey Milkovich had soon accepted to not let his past define him.
That didn't mean to completely forget it or never acknowledge it again. It just meant to never let it set you back from the rest of your life.
He's allowed himself to believe and understand that he was worth it, worth the happiness he was so fucking lucky to have. Though, that didn't change his views on the South Side and how people were still scum around here.
He had come to the realization that one day or the other he would be happy and his time was now.
But every now and then Mickey can't help and stop his past from creeping up behind him and kick him down in the dark.
So here he is on a Friday afternoon, home from work at 5pm. He made himself a sandwich and grabbed a beer before sitting on the couch and watching an episode of Law and Order SVU—what? It was his and Ian's new thing. After an hour of watching and yelling at the TV, he had moved to lay on the couch instead and ended up drifting off to sleep.
Mickey always lulled off to sleep for a few hours before his boyfriend would come home. So today was no different, Ian was at work, being an EMT and shit as Mickey laid on their couch, allowing himself to get some shut eye.
Or so he thought.
Cause that's when it happened.
**
"I love you. But I can't do this anymore. I love you, Mick. But it's not worth it if I have to see you with a new set of bruises on your skin every time I see you.
I want to help you and you won't let me. I can't stand here watching you get hurt because of your homophobic, son of bitch so called 'father', I just can't. I can't be the reason that you're in pain."
"Don't do this, Ian. Please-" Mickey begged, his voice soft and weak.
"I love you, Mickey. I don't get why you keep dealing with this shit."
"I .. I- I'm sorry. Please. Just—stay." He pleaded, tears slipping and not caring to wipe them.
"You rather be afraid and get hurt than let me help and be free?" Ian asked, genuinely wanting to know.
"It's not like th- I .. I don't know. He's my dad, I can't just- Please." He begged, not caring how weak he looked and felt.
"I'm sorry. You won't let me help. I can't stand here, can't be here. Not anymore."
"I love you, Ian."
But that didn't change anything. So he went home, to his so called 'father' and without surprise was bloody and bruised the second he walked in.
Ian left and his world fell apart.
And In that moment he realized Ian was his world.
**
The dream.
Mickey woke up panting, beads of sweat running down his hairline and tears absentmindedly slipping down his cheeks. He sat up, legs crossed on the couch and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, shaking his head.
"Fuck .." he whispered to himself repeatedly. He threw his head back on the couch and let the last of his tears draw out before picking up his phone from the coffee table and texting Ian.
