Chapter Text
Mickey was too busy listening to the sound of high-pitched ringing in his ears to focus on his surroundings. The air around him was cold, but he wore a long-sleeved top layered with a graphic t-shirt, and by graphic, he meant blood. His baggy jeans went past his skinny ankles, his withering socks still had glass sticking out of them. Fucking Iggy smashed a beer bottle against the fridge whilst his poor socks just happened to be there.
He focused rapidly on the noise that rung out into static. TV’s probably fucking busted. He didn't get up, though. Bills hadn’t been payed since like..ever. Probably that. He stared dully at the rotting bananas laying around the kitchen. How long had they been there? Looked like his Mom’s fake tan. Probably smelt like it too. His dad hadn’t been in, which was a shame. His dad made everything cool. Now he was stuck with Mandy’s pansy-ass while she fucking fiddled around with the TV antenna.
Suddenly, the fiddling stopped. Fuckin’ finally. As he was too focused staring at the spotted bananas, Mickey saw but didn't really hear Mandy getting away from the TV to stand behind him in the kitchen. She was so fuckin’ small, stupid bitch-ass 8 year old. She clung onto his shirt desperately as his dad almost ripped the door off its hinges from how aggressively he opened it. (It was like Mandy had a sixth-sense or something?)
“Hayley,” Dad said, calling out his Mom’s name gruffly. “Not here.” Mickey said, looking up at his dad, who saw Mickey sitting there and scoffed. “The fuck are you doing home?” Mickey looked past his shoulder, and saw a trail of smoke coming from what must be his cigarette. Awesome. “School ended early. Can I have one?” He lied. School wasn't something he attended often, why the fuck would he do it on a Monday? His Dad grumbled in response, handing his 10 year old a cigarette and a lighter.
Mandy quivered behind him, her big eyes peering out from behind his shoulder to stare at the cigarette in his pale hands. Dad was now peeling one of the brown-ish bananas and eating it, belching. Mickey lit the cigarette, his eyes widening as the flame burnt brightly before dulling slightly. He chuckled, his knee bouncing up and down from excitement. His dad always had these, so they must taste like heaven. Like fucking coca-cola on steroids. He put the end in his mouth, sucking it before instantly choking.
Mandy looked up at him, “Mickey! Mickey! Are you okay?” Her high voice scared and pulling on the end of his shirt. Mickey scoffed, recovering from his coughing fit and pushing his stupid sister away. He rolled his eyes just like his dad did. Mandy looked hurt, but mostly annoyed. She looked him up and down before walking back over, and grabbing the lighter, running back up to her room. Mickey gasped at her sneakiness. “You little- MANDY!” He yelled, hopping off the low-chair as he rushed up the stairs, his short legs fast as he hit corners, racing to her room.
He banged on the door, hearing her annoying laugh from inside. His dad came upstairs from all the noise. “Shut the fuck up! Quit your fuckin’ whining, fuckin’ homo.” He heard the words, but didn’t process them. Home-o? He owned a home? Was he even talking to him, Mickey? Or maybe his bitch of a sister, WHO GOT HIM INTO THIS MESS!!!!
Dad clipped him on the back of his ear harshly, and Mickey groaned, rubbing the aching spot. “Your sister in there?” He nodded towards the door, Mickey nodded tentatively, confused. His dad started banging on the door and Mickey covered his ears. He squinted his blue eyes, the cigarette long forgotten. Probably burning the kitchen, shit. He walked downstairs as he saw his mom race up the stairs but he ignored her, (he should have paid more attention looking back, it was about the only time she wasn’t high.) He raced down the stairs, picking the cigarette up and placing it back into his mouth. The taste burned his tongue in a weird way, but not unlikeable. Tasted like rain on wood. He heard his Mom yelling his dad’s name as Mandy screamed. They did this every night. It was like a weird cycle.
Mickey groaned, grabbing his stupid coat and zipping it up, as his little sister ran down the stairs, panting, hugging him. “Mandy, get the hell off of me!” He tried pushing her off, but Mandy grabbed on tighter. “Take me with you! Please, Mickey!” Mickey sighed, throwing her coat at her face as she rushed appreciatively out the house. Mickey threw the cigarette at the back of Mandy’s neck as she slapped his arm.
10 minutes later
“Sooooo.” Mandy begun, her jet-black hair puffing around her. “Shut up.” Mickey interrupted, not looking at her.
“I didnt say anything!”
“Uh, yes you did, and your talking now!”
“Only so i dont hear your annoying fu-cking voice!” Mickey raised his eyebrows at the curse.
“No swearing, thats five bucks.” Mandy gasped, stuttering.
“Wha- bu- you- you swear ALL the time!” Mandy said, throwing her arms up in the air. The air was crisp around them and Mickey saw their destination in the distance.
“Nuh-uh!”
“Yuh-huh!!”
Mickey flicked her ear just like his dad had done, and Mandy squealed in pain, hitting his shoulder.
“Ha-ha didn’t even hurt, you little shit!” Mandy smirked, holding out her hand.
“Cash or card?” Mandy repeated the phrase from the lady at their favourite shop, Kash N’ Grab (looking back, its quite ironic.)
Mickey paused, humming. “How about I pay you in quarters?”
“No!!”
He sucked his teeth.
“Then I guess it sucks to suck, fuckface.” Mandy whacked her fist into the side of his face.
2 minutes later
They arrived and Mickey instantly ran over to his favourite bench as Mandy rushed over to play in the sand-box with this small ginger girl. The park. His favourite place ever. If he had to imagine heaven, it would be a park, this park. Sure his place was okay, but the park was amazing.
As he sprinted towards his favourite bench (which was nothing special, after all, it was just as worn down as the rest) he saw a slightly taller figure swinging their legs, perched atop his bench. Fuck these fucking home-o’s. Mickey smiled as he muttered to himself the new word he had learnt, coming from his dad. The kid didnt seem to be older than him, in fact he might have been Mandy’s age, but he was noticeably taller than Mandy, (and most importantly) him.
Fuck that, though. He wasn't a pussy. In fact, he was a Milkovich, which people around him said were the opposite of pussies! They were bastards! Bastards must mean something good, because people tend to smile as they say this to him. Then again, old women always smiled when speaking to him, like he was some slow bitch who needed fuckin’ help. The figure grew clearer, and so did his features.
Orange hair, quite wavy, a whole pile of freckles, a weird wooly hat and bright green eyes. Pussy. In fact, Mickey had seen a cat the same colour as this kid’s hair! “Fuck off my bench, man.” He stated, expecting the kid to get startled and run away to his other ginger siblings. (Or vampires, apparently ginger people don't have human families). Instead of hopping off like a rabbit though, the ‘pussy’ stayed still. “Why?” He asked, his green eyes turning to him in curiosity.
“Uh, because i said so!” Mickey stuttered slightly, not expecting the resistance, but copied his mothers words perfectly all the same. The kid made a ‘pfft’ noise and leaned further into MICKEY’S bench! Mickey let his annoyance at this be known, and instead of talking it out, like ‘grown-ups’, Mickey pulled back his fist and…hit the kid square in the face. The kid yelped, covering his noise, tears in his eyes. Mickey felt like celebrating, but didn’t, because he wasn’t truly satisfied.
weird.
Usually when he punched people or even just uttered bad words at them, he would have this shining feeling in his heart. But…seeing this ginger kid look so upset did things to him. Mickey looked around, waiting for the eventual outburst of tears, uncomfortable. Usually when his sister cried he’d tell her to be quiet or just wait for his mom to come and deal with her. But the outburst never came, in fact not one noise had escaped the kid’s throat apart from his initial yelp.
The kid didn't want to give him the satisfaction! Mickey was impressed Mickey was annoyed. Instead, the kid looked him up and down, in all Mickey’s short, dirty glory, and sighed. “You’re Mickey Milkovich.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Mickey wasn’t particularly surprised, but seeing the blood trickle down from this kid’s noise made him wary. The kid quickly blocked it with his wooly hat, the blue-ish colours turning slightly red. “Uh..yeah. You’re…” he trailed off, hoping the boy would fill in the gap. “Ian. Gallagher.” Gallagher. His dad had said that last name a lot, mostly when he was hitting Mickey or annoyed. “Fuckin’ Frank Gallagher bullshit!”. Mickey wasn’t sure why, but he reckoned that punch had sort of, in a way, melted the ice? Or broke the ice? Whatever.
“Gallagher. I know you.” And he did. He had seen Ian around the school hallways, hanging out with a boy, lip (or Phillip as Mickey called him. ‘Lip’ called him Mikhailo, so they were even.) Ian smiled, his straight teeth sort of…nice? Fuck that. Nothing about him was nice, in fact if he was nice he would’ve got off Mickey’s bench! “So, now that we’ve had our tea party chat, get off my fuckin’ bench.” Mickey replied, not smiling. Ian scoffed, his demeanour unaffected, and patted the seat next to him, shuffling over. Oh hell no. Mickey groaned, deeply annoyed, and stomped over to the opposite bench. He didn’t want to even look at this clown. Instead he looked over at the sand-box, seeing Mandy playing with this 4-5 year old ginger girl. He couldn't make out her face, but she looked remarkably like the annoying-ass pussy opposite him.
Phillip was also there, his annoying hair falling over his stupid face. He smiled down at Mandy, and Mickey felt his blood boil. An even older girl (Florence?…no that didn’t sound right..) watched over all of them, even though she could only be about 13. They didn’t have parents around them, but Mickey wasn’t worried. Parents do fuck all. A tiny baby was in the girl’s arms, fucking hell!, and it seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Mickey envied the baby. Had an easier life than everyone else there. Must be nice to sleep so peacefully without having to worry if your Mom’s finally snuffed it. Opposite him, Ian watched Mickey carefully.
He had a nice face, but it was covered in dirt. He had big blue eyes, dark spiky hair and big red lips, which kinda made him look cool. Girls would probably say he had cooties. Ian didn’t mind. Even though the bastard had punched him, he had the same sort of vibe as his older sister, Fiona. He was looking tentatively at this girl, Ian’s age, who looked just like Mickey, but a girl.
Ian was annoyed when Mickey walked over to the other bench, because why! The bench was clearly big enough. They could’ve maybe, possibly be friends!…yeah maybe not. Mickey was currently picking his nose with blunt nails, knocking off dirt from his nose. 10 minutes of this ‘hits show?’ And Ian saw Fiona swinging her backpack around her back, pulling Lip’s hand and probably telling him to pick up Debbie. Carl had started crying in her arms, so Ian rushed over to help. Girl-Mickey, Mandy, was sad at being left alone in the sand-box but smiled up at Ian, waving.
Ian waved back, they were both in the 3rd grade together! As well as Mickey. Which was weird, because Mickey was 2 years older…maybe he didn’t want to move up?? Eh, he would ask Lip. They were the same age, except Lip was 5th grade. Ian sighed, hopping off the bench, not noticing that the hat had slipped out of his hands, remaining on the now warm bench. Mandy played dully in the sand-box, giggling about the two cute boys she had just met! Well, she knew Ian, but Lip was 2 grades above. Mickey had for sure mentioned Lip before, except he had never told Mandy how cute he was!! (Probably because Mickey would shoot himself in the mouth before ever using the word ‘Lip’ and ‘cute’ in the same sentence.)
After staring daggers at Phillip for a whole 7 minutes, Mickey had turned away, looking at the weird bushes. He turned back, ready to go round two with gingerbread jr, but Gallagher was gone. Huh. Finally! Mickey sauntered over to the bench, eagerly curling up against the railing, something stroking his leg. Mickey guessed a spider, but stuck his leg out, just to see the weird wooly hat hanging off his leg. Mickey turned to look over at the sand-box, seeing Mandy wave at Phillip and Ian, ew. Knowing her, she was probably plotting their three-person-wedding. He watched the massive family leaving…should Mickey give it back? The hat felt kinda warm, but he didn’t wanna take it.
Fuck it.
Mickey placed the hat on his head, as he watched Mandy throw up the sand in the air with her small hands. Across from him, Ian watched Mickey put on his hat, and realised he’d left it. Turning on his heel, Ian tried to walk back over to Mickey, to ask for his hat back. Definitely not to ask if he wanted to play in the park. ‘Cause that would be dumb…But anyway. (Was it weird how obsessed he was with this dirty boy, only after conversing about 5 words to eachother, including Mickey punching him in the face?…yeah, probably.) Fiona stopped him, and he tried to argue, but seeing the dark circles under his older sisters eyes, he gave in. Fiona needed them all home at the same time. She got too worried over them, because they're dad definitely wasn’t. Ian’s mom hadn’t come, which was a shame, because his mom made everything cool. He held onto Fiona’s hand, his ears getting colder, and his heart warmer.
Mickey had watched Ian argue with the older girl, and assumed he wanted to come back and get his hat. Too bad, its warm and its Mickey’s now! It smelled like the soap at the laundromat, probably the cleanest thing he owned. He signalled over to Mandy, who caught his eye, and walked over, sitting up on the bench, her converse shoes lifting above the ground. She curled in on herself, Her and Mickey mirroring eachother on either side of the bench. They usually waited until it was dark. It was safe then.
Normally, kids were afraid of the dark, but not the Milkovich kids. They practically lived in it. It was the only time of day (or maybe night) that they could safely move around, without mutters following them, and insults spewed at them from their father.
Mickey liked his dad. But he loved his mom. And he loved Mandy. Even though she was annoying as shit, he loved his little sister. She still went to him when scared, and Mickey reluctantly patted her on the head, which wasn’t much, but enough. Mickey narrowed his eyes as it got darker, the chilly air dropping in degrees. He wrapped his coat around himself tighter, and pulled down the hat further.
As the stars started to twinkle in the sky, Mickey knew it was time to get back. He nudged Mandy slightly, nodding his head towards the path they had carved from their house to the park from years of walking over here. She got up, yawning. She walked wonky. (kinda like Colin, his older brother, after going to a ‘friends house’.) Mandy’s face also looked extremely tired. Watching this tragicness unfold was depressing, so he groaned, and told her to get on his back. She squealed excitedly. She had always wanted a piggyback ride. She hopped on, and Mickeys extremely strong muscles (which weren’t really muscles, but developing ones) carried the weight well. They walked back in silence, but comfortably.
The twigs snapped underneath Mickey’s feet, and he smirked slightly as Mandy gave up the fight of staying awake, and dropped her head onto his neck. Once they arrived home, the house was quiet. Good. The TV was playing quietly (who knew Mandy could fix TVs?) and his dad was passed out on the couch. His mom was sitting on the stairs, probably high as a kite. She looked up as they entered, chirping a “good morning, моя любов!” Mickey smiled, even though the sky outside was pitch black, he knew his mom, yet again, was vastly unaware of the time. “Good night, ma.” He said, clambering up the stairs, and walking over to Mandy’s door, which had a brand new hole punched through the side. He opened it slowly, and dropped Mandy onto her bed, pulling the covers over her. He didn’t stay long, only making sure she was still breathing.
He walked out his sisters room, coming face to face with Iggy. “The fuck were you?” His older brother asked, smoking a cigarette. Shutting Mandy’s door, Mickey rolled his eyes. “Mars. Where the hell do you think?” Iggy knew Mickey and Mandy only went to one place: the park. Iggy didn’t move, but Mickey felt his eyes on him as he walked into his own room. “Terry wanted to talk to you about something.” Mickey paused, turning around. “Dad? Why?” Iggy breathed out, smoke flowing around him. “Welcome to the family business, little brother.” Would he finally figure out why basically neither of his siblings weren’t home whenever his dad was? Mickey raised an eyebrow. Iggy didn’t continue on the subject though, only scoffing at his hair.
“The fuck is that pansy-ass thing on your head?”
Mickey looked up, realising he was still wearing Gallaghers dumb hat. “Nothing.” He took it off, throwing it into his room behind him. Iggy grunted, ruffling his hair, as Mickey swatted his arm away. “Night, моя любов!” He mocked his mom, and Mickey kicked his leg as he walked past, sticking his middle finger up. He closed the door as he walked into his bedroom, immediately rolling onto his bed.
He thought about Ian Gallagher. The stupid hat. His pussy-ass actually retorting against Mickey. Maybe Mickey was the Pussy. He shook his head, and closed his eyes, not wanting to wake up to hear whatever his dad wanted to talk to with him. Fucking family business.