Chapter Text
Mickey comes in the hospital for his second visit this week a little earlier than he usually does. He goes to the receptionist’s desk and she greets him by name and tells him that Ian’s schedule is free for today so he’ll probably find him in his room or the recreation room. Mickey figures Ian would be in his room since he admitted to Mickey he didn’t really like socializing with the other patients. He just wanted to “do his therapy and get the fuck out of here” as he put it. The security guard leads him to Ian’s room and Mickey gives a polite nod of thanks before opening it.
He sees a man, blonde hair, laying down and moaning like a fucking idiot. Mickey at first thinks the dude’s just jacking off when he sees a head peak out from under the excess amounts of sheets and pillows covering the guy. Red hair flashes in front of Mickey’s eyes.
No.
No.
That can’t be.
There’s got to be some other redheaded fuck in this shithole that was using Ian’s room to fuck this blonde dude. But the redhead sits ups straighter and that back looks too familiar. Mickey recalls tracing the spine with his own fingers. The redhead laughs and that laugh is too much of a comfort to Mickey for it to be someone else’s.
The redhead bends his head down, his lips clashing with the blonde’s. The blonde pulls away and opens his eyes, he brings the redhead’s face down to his neck letting the redhead suck on it. The blonde’s eyes dart to Mickey’s direction.
“Oh shit!” The blonde man says laughing, pushing the redhead up to make him stop. “Ian”
“What?” Ian says sitting up smiling and looking behind him. His smile quickly falls and his eyes go wide as he sees Mickey. Mickey stands there still, body unable to move. He starts shaking with anger or betrayal…both.
“Fuck! Fuck, Mickey. Shit.” Ian quickly jumps off the blonde, wiping away at his mouth. He runs his hand on the back of his head. “This uhh…this isn’t.”
“It’s not what it looks like? You’re seriously about to fucking say to me ‘it’s not what it looks like’?”
“Mick…”
Mickey walks out of the room quickly, covering his mouth, and shaking his head. This isn’t…this…this can’t be. He was imaging this. It was some fucking nightmare he’d wake up from. Right now would be good. He’s making his way to the rec room temporarily losing his mind as to how to leave the fucking place. He hears a voice behind him calling his name. Luckily the rec room is vacant. Probably being reserved in case guests wanted to do activities with one of the patients or some shit. Ian had lovingly commented once that he was one of the only ones that got visitors.
“Mickey wait.” Ian calls, running to catch up to Mickey.
“Jesus Christ, Ian! What the fuck?” Mickey yells.
Ian looks down to the floor, ashamed. Good. Mickey thinks. “I know…”
“No! What the fuck are you doing?”
“I’m…I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?”
“You told me you were coming tomorrow.”
Mickey laughs bitterly. “So wait. Are you sorry you were doing it or sorry you got caught?”
Ian looks away.
“Ian!”
“I don’t know…”
Mickey wipes his lips with his hand. “I can’t fucking believe this.”
Ian is silent.
“How many?”
“Wh-What?”
“How many times did you fuck him?”
Ian still can’t look at Mickey. It takes him awhile to get it out. “S-Six or Seven”
Mickey repeats the numbers. “So-so what? You uh you want him now?”
Ian looks at Mickey like he just said something insane. “No. No I don’t fucking want him now.” Ian says angrily.
“You getting mad at me now?” Mickey asks raising his voice.
Ian breathes in sharply looking down at the floor again and then back at Mickey. “I made a fucking mistake,” Mickey rolls his eyes and Ian searches his eyes. “I think you can allow me that.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“With how many times you fucked up?
“Excuse me?” Mickey looks at Ian offended.
“You know what I mean. How many times was I left wondering if we were a ‘thing’? If I mean anything to you?” Ian realizes he’s saying the wrong things. He’s trying to make what he did, what he’s been doing look ok. But he doesn’t back down from his response.
“So that’s your excuse?” Mickey asks.
Ian just stands there staring at Mickey, not willing himself to say anymore.
Mickey nods his head, teeth clenching. He faces Ian.
“Fuck you, Ian.” He says harshly. “Fuck you.” He shakes his head as he walks past Ian and towards the exit.
Ian stands there alone. Thinking about what just happened, what he did. He tells himself it’ll blow over. He’d ask Mickey for forgiveness or something and it’ll be okay. He tells himself this but he doesn’t believe it. Nor does he think he deserves it. “Fuck, Mickey. I’m so sorry”
Mickey walks past the receptionist who gives him a friendly goodbye. Mickey resents her and her fucking kindness. He resents the whole fucking place. The happiness he felt at seeing Ian getting increasingly better. The joy he felt at seeing Ian smile again. The bliss at hearing Ian’s plans once he gets out. His plans with Mickey. Mickey resents it all. He runs out the doors to the hospital. He runs until he reaches an alleyway connecting the hospital to another building.
Mickey Milkovich wasn’t one for crying. Didn’t do it much. Not even when his mom died. But he thinks just this once. Just this once he allows himself to break down. His body feels weak, his lungs giving up on him. He slides down the side of the building, his ass hitting the pavement. He covers his eyes with his hands and sobs.
Ian starts to feel a sense of panic. Ian wants nothing more than to follow Mickey outside, grab him forcefully, and beg on his hands and knees for him to forget what he saw. Tell him how sorry he is, how much a mistake it was, how much he loves him. But he can’t. The security guard eyes him and stands closer to the door. Ian breathes in deeply, and buries his feelings. He goes back to finish off Brad, or Troy, or whatever the fuck his name was. His face is distant, barely there as he allows the blonde to fuck him in missionary position, cumming inside him.