He had been holding onto Mickey and that was the last thing he remembered. He could see those eyes devouring him whole, as if trying to consume him, protect him, drown him. But what happened next was a series of mismatched events that pulled at him, against him, demanding some kind of retribution. And his mind felt a hollow mess that refused to make sense of the whole situation that had unfolded beforehand. Ian went to that house with one thing on his mind. Kill Terry. Somehow Mickey's father was the epitome of everything wrong in his life. Frank being the worst father in the entire world, his mother somehow managing to be an even bigger disappointment, his siblings somehow managing to live in that run down house, school, his feelings, work. Every bad thing that had ever happened to him, now felt like it would just disappear if he only killed Terry. That way he could save Mickey, he could save himself, and finally manage to live his life how he always wanted to with the person he loved
Flashes of deranged images plagued his mind now as he curled up in bed. There was something missing, something wrong almost. He had found Terry, he remembered his face so vividly that the only urge he could muster up now was to punch the wall he was facing. But what happened after wasn't coming to him, and the more he forced himself to think about it, the more he tried to grab at it, it quickly ran from him, like grains of sand slipping through his fingers. He was in his bedroom, and while he listened to the lazy silence of the house the door behind him reeked open, ever so slightly. He could see a figure basked in light from the hallway standing there as if uncertain whether they should come in or go. Ian didn't turn around, he didn't feel he had any strength enough to do so, but his mouth allowed him to utter out in a low cracked voice. "I only want Mickey." But the way he said it was so low, almost a whisper that he wasn't sure that the figure by the door could even hear him. Before he could say anything else, not that he knew what else to say. The door opened a bit more and then closed. In a few dragged out seconds he was sure that the intruder had left, being one of his siblings probably checking up on him. And as he yearned for sleep and complete darkness. He felt a body next to him, slowly lowered to lie down. And before he even turned around he knew it was Mickey. Mickey's arm wrapped around Ian's waist, and he could feel his hot breath against his neck, and his stocky lean built against his back.
They were unmoving, both enjoying in the sensation of the other. And as in most cases they didn't speak with words, usually because Mickey liked to show how he felt more so then say it. And in this instance Ian was the same. Words fell short. There wasn't a word, phrase, expression, sound that had been invented yet that could describe what he felt. Confusion, sadness, madness, love, anger, lust, all swirling around his mind, each of them alluring wand welcoming. All of them loud and demanding. It was scary. But he focused on Mickey's arm around his waist. On the fading scent of his cologne. On the fact that he was there. "What happened?" Ian finally asked, because not knowing was just another thing on the list that was poking at him. Mickey didn't reply right away. And the more the silence dragged on, the more he felt like someone was punching him in the stomach. "You were standing in front of him, and I..."his voice disappeared as if swallowed by something unseen. "I couldn't let you do something that would get you into trouble. So I pushed you aside before you had time to jump on him, and started hitting him. I wasn't sure that I could stop hitting him. Every time I saw him I would think of what he did to me, what he did to you. And if..."He took a deep breath, a few of them as if to calm himself down. His arm tightning around Ian's waist, his face buried in the back of Ian's neck. And as he took a few more seconds, Mickey continued. "I called the cops, which is fucking ironic. Usually someone calls the cops on me. But he's on probation and if he's taken to jail, he'll end up staying there until he's dead. At least ten years. So I showed them the guns and the drugs and they took him away. By this point you were..." But he didn't end up finishing the sentence because Ian had managed to turn around so swiftly that when he kissed Mickey, Mickey was so shocked that he almost fell off the bed. Thankfully Ian had wrapped himself around him, kissing him with such force that you'd wonder if he was trying to merge with the other boy, and on some level he was trying to do just that. "You're not leaving. Ever." Was the only thing Ian said as he tore Mickey's shirt off.
