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Ian had been coming back to the same spot for almost a year, like he was expecting something to happen. Maybe something actually was happening, and Ian was oblivious to it. Maybe the angels were about to give him some sort of sign that he would be able to leave this place with the least bit of satisfaction. Maybe he would actually have a good day, for once.
Those were a lot of maybe’s for one lifetime.
January had rolled around last week, and everything was supposed to feel new and fresh, with all of the New Year’s Eve parties and the New Year’s resolutions going around. It never feels like a new year to Ian; it felt like the previous year was either repeating itself or getting an extension. A lot of people didn’t even commit to their planned resolutions anyway. One time, Debbie told herself that she would work out more, but then she was eating chocolate cake six days later. “It’s all about commitment,” Fiona would tell her, but some people have a hard time with that alone.
For Ian, specifically, there wasn’t even a new year, a new month, a new day. No, to Ian, it was the same day he had barely survived before. Reality shows that he was able to get up out of bed, wash up, eat, and behave normally for the past seven and a half months; however, Ian was reliving the same day on constant repeat.
May 22nd marked the day that Mickey Milkovich died.
Mickey dying didn’t even sound real. Ian knew what kind of person Mickey was, even if the older man wouldn’t have believed so, had he still lived. Mickey was everything that caught Ian’s attention: his shameless carelessness for the people around him, his loud voice, his witty jokes – Mickey was everything Ian still remembered him for. Ian secretly wondered if Mickey pulled it off as some sort of sick joke just to play with his brain.
That’s when Ian remembered the funeral service the week after his death. The only thing preventing Ian from thinking that this was some early April Fool’s joke was the pampered, peaceful corpse in that goddamn silver casket, with blue and white flowers surrounding it. A tingling feeling in Ian’s stomach knew that Mickey was a smart guy, though, and he could very well hide away from the rest of the world by having everyone believe he was really dead or some shit. He wasn’t actually six feet underneath this earth, was he?
Mandy came back from Indiana three days after the news got out, having gotten away from her abusive boyfriend. She was devastated. Although she and Mickey didn’t have a strong-enough bond after Mandy moved, she cared deeply for her older brother. Those two have been through hell and back with their father, and it saddened Ian, knowing that the one other person Mandy survived this world with was about to be buried in the ground.
Ian wanted to tell her that things would be okay, but how can they be? How was it possible to really recover from this?
Within the past few months following Mickey’s death, Ian started drinking more, despite the fact that he’s not supposed to have alcohol with lithium. He doesn’t even care anymore sometimes. He thinks he’s damaged goods, maybe even worse now that Mickey is gone.
On June 14th, Ian stopped by Mickey’s grave with a beer bottle in a brown bag in one hand and a random magazine in the other hand. He and Mickey used to share their porn magazines whenever one of them left the house, and the other would stay at home waiting for them. This one was Ian’s favorite because it was the same one that Mickey hid some of their photos inside. Ian smiled at the one page where he taped Ian’s face over a male model’s face. The redhead bet that Mickey would masturbate to that a lot sometimes.
Ian was incredibly drunk and in complete denial when he went to visit him that day. The alcohol took away some of his pain, but having to look back at Mickey’s tombstone or at some of Mickey’s photos in the magazine brought some of the pain back. He tried ignoring it with some of his drunken slurs and his own terrible jokes.
“Y-Y-You remember this?” Ian stuttered, waving the magazine in his right hand. “You see that?” He scooted over and rested his back against Mickey’s tombstone, flipping through the random pages inside the book. “Man, I remember when you got me this damn thing.” Ian snickered. “God, y – you’re so fuckin’ creative, you know that?”
Mickey never responded, and a voice told Ian that he never will. Another voice also told Ian that it wouldn’t hurt to try once again.
On August 27th, Ian came back to the cemetery with a bag of Snickers, varying in size, as well as a carton of orange juice that he took out of the refrigerator. He took out a handful of bite-sized Snickers and threw them in front of Mickey’s tombstone, hopelessly waiting for some miracle to come out of nowhere. Of course, it didn’t come. So Ian just took out a king-sized bar and opened it while telling Mickey a story.
“Remember that one time we fucked in the Kash and Grab, and Kash actually caught us fucking each other?” Ian said out of some false happiness. He giggled. “You got shot in the fuckin’ leg, and I was so scared for your ass.” Ian drank some of the juice out of the carton, giving two shits less about whoever else could be watching him.
When reminiscing on that moment, Ian wondered if he was even talking to Mickey or himself. That memory was one of the clearest ones Ian has ever had of the neighborhood thug. It was the first time Ian actually gave a shit about whether or not he got hurt. Before, Ian wanted to hit him with a baseball bat for trying to send his brothers out to kill him. Ever since that day at the Kash and Grab, Ian wanted nothing more than to make sure Mickey was okay.
That’s what the nagging voice in the back of his head is trying to believe, anyway.
Ian didn’t cry that day, but a part of him really wanted to.
On September 7th, Ian wanted to sleep for most of the day. Memories ranging from those crappy movie nights at Mickey’s place to the day Mickey got shot in the leg were running through his mind. It was probably a mistake on Ian’s part to unlock his phone and see the screen saver of him and Mickey making duck faces shining back at him.
Many of the other Gallaghers wanted Ian to get out of bed so Fiona could help him get a GED and finish school, but Ian wasn’t up for it. Monica’s fucked-up genes ruined everything for him, ever since he found out that he had to take medication for the next 30 to 40 years.
That took place before Ian broke off his relationship with Mickey.
Fiona tried waking him several times throughout the day, but Ian wouldn’t budge. Nothing could get him up out of bed like Mickey used to. He was so persistent in getting Ian to eat food or hang out in some random, deserted place for a while. Ian loved how persistent he was. He just loved how Mickey was so committed to Ian ever since he came out, and now those opportunities to continue said commitment were shattered to the ground.
At one point, when everyone gave up on trying to get Ian out of bed and to take his meds, Ian dialed Mickey’s cell phone number, waiting for the shorter man to pick up on the other line. No one answered.
No one answered within the next twenty calls, either, and Ian then cried himself to sleep.
On September 19th, Lip got him a job at his college. It was janitorial work, which was the last thing Ian wanted to be caught dead doing, but it was better than sleeping the entire day.
According to Lip, anyways.
The only reason Ian wanted the job was so he could see his brother more often. Other than Mickey, he missed Lip the most out of all of the other Gallaghers, who were normally at the house all of the time anyway. Parties were epic, as usual, despite the fact that Ian had to clean up everyone’s puke and spilled beer off the floor.
Unfortunately, for Ian, he couldn’t have the luxury of connecting with other people on campus, let alone party with them. He found out that Lip has a college friend, too, and they were both into quantum-physics, or whatever the hell that even was. Lip spent less time with Ian than Ian planned, and it made him feel neglected and ashamed. He didn't like feeling separated from his brother, let alone feeling as though he was too dumb to even step foot on a college campus.
That’s when Ian decided to quit the job altogether.
On October 2nd, Ian met a new guy because, according to Fiona, he should get out of the house and find someone new to befriend or something now that he refused to go to college and that Mickey was not here anymore.
Ian was still in denial about Mickey’s death even now, but he decided to go with it.
This new guy was nothing like Mickey – taller, buffer, sturdier job, deeper voice. He was handsome to Ian, don’t get him wrong; but this fresh, new relationship stuff felt oddly different. It’s been months since he’s been romantically involved with anyone aside from Mickey, so he wasn’t even sure how he was gonna pull this off.
Luckily, with Caleb’s help, he didn’t have to do anything drastic. They just went to Sox games and ate in public restaurants whenever they were both free, being that this guy was apparently a firefighter with a shit ton of lives to save. He offered to get Ian on the force if he were to get his GED, but Ian wasn’t even sure if he wanted the job or not.
Despite that, though, he’s been slowly but surely doing a little better. About two weeks since he started dating again, he returned to Mickey’s grave with what Mickey would consider unfortunate news.
“I, um…” Ian started, fiddling with his coat zipper. “I met a guy.” He paused because, had Mickey still been alive, he would have punched Ian in the face right now. “He…” Ian chuckled. “He’s nothing like you, you know?” No, Mickey doesn’t know. “You’re funnier and have something about your smile and all of that, but…” Ian didn’t even want to think about Mickey’s smile, not after what’s happened in between the break-up and Mickey’s funeral.
Ian was silent for the next five minutes before biting down on his own lip, preventing himself from trembling. “I know I said I would wait for you, Mickey,” he whimpered, “and…I tried. Trust me, I really tried.” He brought a hand up to his own eye to wipe away the layer of tears. “You were dead before you even got out, but I still fucking waited, okay? I did what you fucking told me to, so where the hell are you?”
More tears fell down Ian’s face. That snarky, sarcastic voice he knows and loves isn’t responding to him by any means whatsoever. Ian hated this. He wished time machines existed already so he could go back in time and fix all of the bullshit he’s ever started. All he wanted was his Mickey back, and that shouldn’t have seemed like too much to ask.
Ian’s phone started buzzing in his pocket. Caleb was wondering where he was so he could come by his apartment for dinner. Unfortunately, Ian didn’t have much of an appetite.
On November 26th, everyone was a raging mess. It was Thanksgiving, but more importantly, it was the same day Monica cut her wrists on the kitchen floor.
Fiona was trying to do everything she could to keep everyone in line and prevent any more injuries coming about. She especially kept her eye on Ian, which should feel like a pain in the ass to him, but he understood how his older sister was feeling. Now that he was the bipolar guinea pig of the Gallaghers, anything was likely to happen to him, regardless of whether or not Ian had the same intentions as Monica did.
He doesn’t, but he never wants to experience the day he does.
In addition to the main Gallaghers, next door neighbors Kevin and Veronica, along with former neighbors Sheila and Karen Jackson, and Caleb all stopped by to eat. With everyone up to their own thing, it’s feels overwhelming just to have everyone back here in the Gallagher house. It’s like Ian was still that young fifteen-year-old boy all over again.
Sheila suggested that we all go around the table and say what we were thankful for, which was a pretty good idea according to everyone else. A lot of people said how thankful they were for their siblings, children, significant others, having some place to stay – to all of the Gallaghers, that and having all of the siblings all in one piece was the biggest blessing of all.
Caleb, of course, felt foreign to all of the love being thrown around the table. So when everyone heard his little tidbit about his relationship with Ian, he appeared to be nervous about what they were gonna say. Sheila, Kevin, and Veronica seemed okay with it, while people like Debbie and Lip just nodded, their thoughts with Ian on how he feels considering that his last relationship ended terribly and left him in a devastating fog for months.
Ian’s thoughts were still with Mickey. They always were. Ian was supposed to be here, showing his affection for a new man, but how can he when his old one is still on his mind?
He swallowed that question momentarily in favor of shooting Caleb a smile. “Thanks,” he whispered to the older man. “Thankful for you, too.”
On December 10th, Ian and Caleb got into a huge fight. Prior to that, though, on the third of that month, Ian was sent to the psychiatric hospital again.
Ian was with Debbie and Liam for the day. The house was running out of groceries, Fiona was preoccupied with Patsy’s, and Lip and Carl went to hang out with friends for the day.
Today and yesterday, however, was one of Ian’s lowest days ever. Sure, he was able to get out of bed, for once; but that didn’t mean he was feeling any better.
Being that Chicago was located right next to Lake Michigan, of course it got twenty degrees colder. Fiona forgot to pay the heat bill again, and Lip barely had enough money to send over to her, though he sure did find ways to get it. Regardless, Ian was still cold as hell and was in need of something on his arms.
When he got to the drawers in his room, he stumbled upon a T-Shirt with the sleeves cut off and an embroidered elephant smacked dead in the middle.
This was one of Mickey’s favorite shirts. It was the same one that Ian bought for him.
Ian went back to bed with the garment in his hand, sniffing Mickey’s beautiful scent from off the collar. He imagined Mickey laying right next to him. He would wrap his small arms around Ian’s neck and sneak a tiny kiss on either his forehead or his lips. That smile Ian loved so much would come into view as well. Sometimes Ian would run his own fingers through his jet black hair, literally milking at the texture of it.
The more he imagined those things, the harder it is on Ian to keep the tears inside. He wanted to touch Mickey’s hair again. He wanted Mickey to hold him and tell him that they would be okay. He wanted to kiss him again. He wanted Mickey to say “I love you” one more time – on repeat, if that were possible.
He wanted him to say “I love you” so Ian could have the opportunity to say it back.
Caleb called Ian’s cell phone almost all day that day, and Ian didn’t have the energy to reply. Fiona once came in his room and saw the tears staining his cheeks. When asked if he was okay, Ian asked Fiona if she could tell Caleb that he doesn’t want to see him anymore, which made Fiona feel concerned for her little brother. She wanted to ask more questions, but she also didn’t want to push Ian into doing something he didn’t want to.
So she did what she was told and covered Ian up with an extra blanket before leaving the room.
Then on the third, Debbie was given a grocery list, which had a shit ton of items on them – some of them required some heavy lifting, and Lip and Carl were unavailable for the day. It took about an hour of convincing, but Ian was finally out of the bed and getting dressed.
About one-third of the items on the grocery list were in the cart about an hour and a half later. Ian wasn’t too focused on the groceries as much as he was focused on Mickey’s shirt that he left on the pillow back at the house. The smell could get off it any moment, and Ian wanted anything but one of his favorite smells to leave that goddamn shirt.
Debbie and Liam were in the junk food aisle, for Liam saw some fruit snacks that he wanted to get. Debbie kept telling him that they didn’t have too much money for fruit snacks, but the little guy was so persistent every time.
That’s when Ian strolled past the section on the shelves with a bunch of Snickers bars. They were Mickey’s favorite, Ian thought to himself, grabbing three giant ones off the shelf. He also found some Slim Jims – the last ones on the shelf – and a can of sour cream Pringles. He didn’t even register his little brother and sister walking up next to him.
“Ian, what are you doing?” Debbie asked, curious.
“I need to get these.” Ian held all of the snacks in his arms carrying them towards the cart.
“We don’t have enough for those,” Debbie protested.
“Mickey needs them,” was all Debbie had to hear to understand what was going on.
“Ian, Mickey’s not here anymore.”
“They’re his favorite. He’ll come back for them then, right?”
“Ian –“
“He likes Gatorade, too.” Before Debbie could even speak, Ian was out of the aisle in a flash.
The cart got incredibly heavy with time. Ian had packed a shit ton of snacks, and Liam threw in the fruit snacks that he wanted. Debbie had no idea how they were gonna pay for this extra stuff if Fiona only gave her enough money for the needed groceries on the list. Eventually, she tried letting Ian down easy.
“Ian, we have to put this stuff back,” Debbie explained calmly. “Fiona only gave me enough for –“
“I can’t,” Ian replied, and it broke Debbie’s heart to see a jittery redhead next to her. “I need them today. I have a few bucks on me, and that should cover the Snickers –“
“And everything else?” Ian started looking around him. The line was getting a little shorter in front of them, and they were almost up to pay for their things. Debbie got a little suspicious and quite shocked when Ian leaned in and suggested another alternative. “Ian, we can’t –“
“Debbie, please help me out here.”
“You have to let him go, Ian.”
“No, never. I’m not letting him go again. I did that once, and I’m not doing it again.” People were watching the two, and Debbie started getting a little uncomfortable. Her first instinct was to call Fiona and ask her about Ian’s dosage, though she didn’t want to make him even more upset than he already was.
However, after the last encounter with the police Ian had, Debbie thought it was better to be safe than sorry.
So she pulled the cart out of the line and off to the side, and Ian and Liam followed. Debbie pulled out her phone and started finding Fiona’s number on it. Ian, too, got suspicious and leaned over her shoulder to check on her. “Debs, what are you doing?”
“I’m calling Fiona.”
“Why are you calling her? What’s going on?”
“I just need to check with her on something really quick.”
The heartbroken expression on Ian’s face made Debbie feel even more guilty about doing this. “You’re turning me in, are you?”
Debbie sighed. “Ian, I’m just trying to help you. His death kind of triggered you a lot, and I don’t want you getting in trouble for all of this –“
“Don’t say that to me. Don’t you fucking say that to me.” A tear started to fall down Ian’s cheek.
“Ian, please –“
Ian reached forward for Debbie’s phone, but his sister pushed him away. The weight Ian was putting on her made Debbie feel frightened. Actually, they were both scared of something, from what Debbie could tell anyways. Ian had the phone at one point, trying to pull it out of his sister’s grasp. Instead, he pushed her into a pop display, knocking down a couple of pop can boxes. One of them fell on Debbie’s foot, leaving her to scream her lungs out.
One of the guards in the store had to intervene, convincing Ian to calm down, but Ian just got even more upset than he was before. Although the phone was now cracked, Debbie gained the opportunity to grab it while Ian was ranting to the store security, calling Fiona as fast as she could.
She did this while Ian threw a tantrum, grabbing some of the snacks he retrieved, the security snatching them back and trying to hold him down before he made an escape.
Fiona was at the store in a flash, and once the Gallaghers talked with the employees and left, they got Ian signed up for the hospital once again. This time, neither Mickey nor Yevgeny were there to witness it.
Ian got out on the sixth, and since then, everyone was keeping watch for him once again. Ian slept for the next three days, and while he did so, Caleb continued to call his cell phone, much to Ian’s dismay. He told Fiona about how he didn’t want to see him again, yet Fiona was busy with her own work to help Ian with his situation. The combination of that and Ian’s mind still on Mickey Milkovich, that led Ian to come to one solution.
On the tenth, he had gone to Caleb’s apartment to call off their relationship. It definitely didn’t go the way Ian wanted it to. He didn’t get all of the words he wanted to get out of his head, for Caleb went on a twenty-minute rant about how Ian basically neglected to answer any of his calls or text messages. He assumed that Ian was cheating on him, which was the last thing he was doing.
Or the first, if one were to really think about it.
This was also the day that Ian told him about his diagnosis, which Caleb was disappointed by, mainly because he was upset that Ian didn’t tell him when they first started dating.
But then Ian told him about Mickey and their relationship. He told him about all of the little things that made Ian smile until his face hurt. He told him about the day he got arrested. He told him about the day Ian told Mickey he would wait for him. He told him about the day Mickey died in the prison cell after one of the inmates vigorously raped and beaten him. He told him everything, all because Ian wasn’t ready to move on in the first place.
After hearing all of this, Caleb was led into believing that Ian didn’t really care for him, that all of the stuff they did together were lies, that he would rather kiss a dead person’s skull than be with him. He wanted Ian to move on from all of this, which Ian didn’t take very well. With all of the barks back in Ian’s face saying “Mickey’s dead,” Ian denied them quicker than he ever did in his life.
Finally, with the frustration built in his chest, Caleb let out, “Why do you even try anyway? He’s not coming back for you, Ian. It’s over. It was all in your head.”
That’s what got Ian’s blood boiling even faster. He was out of that apartment before he could hear Caleb shout his name again.
On January 8th, Ian came back to Mickey’s grave that night on another one of his low days. He had been skipping his pills since before the new year rang in, but he never told any of the other Gallaghers that.
It was snowing outside – the news stated that there would be a blizzard coming sometime this week or next week. Ian didn’t care. In fact, he didn’t even have a hat and scarf with him to cover his head and chest.
Eventually, he wouldn’t be needing the coat, either.
He sat in front of Mickey’s grave, still as a rock at first. The name on the tombstone looked too real, but even after almost a year passed since his death, this felt like the biggest joke of all.
Nothing about his relationship with Mickey was a joke; it was the purest thing Ian ever had in his life, and he’ll be damned if he can’t enjoy that any longer.
Ian started off slow enough so it won’t trigger any emotions. “Y-You know that guy…um, that guy I told you about?” he stuttered, playing around with some of the snow by his boots. “I broke it off with him.” He sniffled. “Apparently, um…” Ian was surprised he didn’t break down yet. “We just couldn’t work it out, is all.” He didn’t go into any further detail, knowing that Mickey would be pissed to hear anything more than that.
It was a little windy outside, and some workers were plowing the snow outside of the cemetery, but other than that, it was silent. Ian hated the silence. He especially hated how Mickey could no longer fill that silence. He hated it so fucking much. All Ian wanted was for Mickey to make some stupid joke or give him some kind of advice, even if Mickey wasn’t an emotions kind of guy.
“I told you I’d wait for you, Mick.” Ian continued, his upper body shaking a tad. “Don’t you remember? Remember when I told you I’d wait for you while you were still in prison?” No response.
The redhead took a breath, albeit a shaky one. “I don’t wanna wait anymore, Mick.” Another beat came, and Ian swallowed down all of his fears and doubts to make way for his next confession. “I wanna be with you, Mick, and that’s why I’m here. All this time, I wasn’t even sure if I told you the truth about wanting to wait or not, but now I know. I’m not fucking leaving you out here to freeze, Mickey. I left you twice before, maybe even more than that, and I’m not doing it again.”
Plenty of tears fell when he didn’t receive an answer once again. Mickey will always be silent and hidden under the six feet of dirt and four inches of snow that was towering over his lifeless body. The only way Ian will know for sure if he can ever hear that wonderful voice again was if he tried to find Mickey once again and make this right.
This was the biggest sacrifice Ian ever made for anyone, but he was willing to try it.
Ian didn’t even care if people thought he was ridiculous for taking his coat off in blistering, cold Chicago snow. Ian didn’t even care if his fingers were turning into icicles, even with gloves on. Ian didn’t even care if his body was as numb as his soul. He stopped caring a long time ago. He stopped caring about everything long before he visited Mickey in prison for the first time, and that’s when all of the regrets and mistakes started pouring in.
To Ian, this right here wasn’t another mistake, rather it was a way for him and Mickey to somehow make things right again.
His coat and gloves were off within a minute, and with a soft kiss against Mickey’s tombstone, he was now snuggling right next to it, trying to maintain himself as the snow bit through his skin. With time, Ian’s skin grew more pale, his nose getting red from the chill. His tears may have frozen against his cheeks, and his hair was very stiff from the redhead laying in the snow and allowing the fallen snowflakes to get into the strands.
Ian would occasionally stroke a couple of fingers against the granite on Mickey’s stone, but time wouldn’t wait on him. Time had to move on – not just for Ian, but for everyone else, too. So the last time Ian made that gesture, his entire limb gave up on him, falling onto the pile of snow in front of him.
Ian didn’t even know the owner of the cemetery had ran over to him to shake him awake. Ian didn’t even know the man grabbed his coat and other things to cover up his freezing body. Ian didn’t even know Debbie, Fiona, and Lip had called and texted him over a thousand times that day, wanting him to take the next dosage of his medicine that he left on the table.
Ian didn’t even know that the owner of the cemetery had retrieved Ian’s phone and called Fiona’s number after finding him laying in the snow by Mickey’s grave. Ian didn’t even know that both Fiona and Debbie cried hysterically throughout the entire day, and Lip had an emotional breakdown at his college before returning back home.
Ian didn’t even know that all of the Gallaghers, Kevin and Veronica included, came by the cemetery to witness an ambulance and a few doctors carrying a body in a bag from off the ground. Ian had already slipped into hypothermia by then, and his heart had shut down before he had the chance to know any of that stuff.
In turn, neither the Gallaghers nor Kevin and Veronica knew that Ian had opened his eyes to an unrecognizable location where he was welcomed through a golden gate, Mickey Milkovich waiting on the other side of it. As glad as they would have been to know that Ian had moved on to a better place, to them, it would take decades for them to accept that, because they were still trying to get past one thing.
January 8th marked the day that Ian Gallagher died.