The Fuck Else Do I Do? // gallavich ficlet
~450 word drabble after seeing Shameless 4x10 tonight, kind of an inner thought/character study on Mickey and the situation with Ian.
He did it because he had to.
Since childhood Mickey held the firm belief that ‘family’ was just some loose term for a group of strangers that didn’t have a choice but to live together. That didn’t mean that he wasn’t loyal to them; he beat up the guys that made fun of his sister and helped his brothers make drug runs, among other things — he even helped his dad hide a body once.
But he never actually cared about them. He never felt the need to go home or the tinge of sadness when he thought about his situation. They did their own thing and tried to keep some semblance of peace.
When he realized Ian was doing drugs, he didn’t know how to handle the situation. He had never previously dealt with caring about someone to the level that he did with Ian.
When he was sitting passed out next to Ian in the ridiculous Hummer that had pulled up, he didn’t let go of Ian’s hand but he didn’t look at the boy once, not until they pulled up to the Milkovich house.
His hands shook when he undid Ian’s belt and he swallowed roughly but the lump didn’t go down.
His heart raced the entire time he was in the club, and the entirety of their public kiss was nothing but a hazy blur masked by alcohol and disbelief, mostly at himself.
He did these things because he knew Ian was hurting. Despite his Russian wife at home, his terrorizing father, and fucked up life in general — Mickey somehow knew he had to push past that and hold out for Ian.
Even though he was a different person, he wasn’t. He was the thing Mickey needed to understand his life, without him it didn’t make any fucking sense.
Mickey didn’t understand why his mind was doing this to him, why he couldn’t forget the rough touch of Ian’s hands and the soft look in his eyes. It undid something in Mickey.
He didn’t push Ian to talk about anything because he didn’t know if it would scare him off. Ian would shut down or leave again and Mickey knew he wouldn’t be able to handle it again.
So he gripped any part of Ian that he could while they slept and made sure not to piss off his siblings when they were all together. He kissed Ian as often as he could if just to prove that he wasn’t a bitch, that he actually cared.
He did and he was figuring out how to show it, all while feeling as if Ian was still slipping away faster and faster each day.
He held on though, because he had to.