Mickey Milkovich (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
andifuckingloveit) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
muserevival2015-04-14 10:20 am
andifuckingloveit) wrote in muserevival2015-04-14 10:20 am
Entry tags:
089.2 Muse Prompts: Quotes
"Without pain, there would be no suffering, without suffering we would never learn from our mistakes. To make it right, pain and suffering is the key to all windows, without it, there is no way of life." - Angelina Jolie
When all was said and done, Mickey Milkovich had always been set in his ways. He made his money the easiest way he knew how, which was generally stealing or pimping, and he didn’t ask anyone for anything. What he wanted, he took, and what he needed, he got on his own. And he’d needed things, certainly, but he’d never needed a person – not until Ian came along and changed everything.
He’d changed everything, but never needed or wanted to change Mickey. He had loved him exactly as he was… a smart mouthed badass with a chip on his shoulder. That was exactly who Ian had fallen for, from the very start. When Mickey had denied heatedly that he was falling for Ian at all, Ian hadn’t tried to make him change or be something he wasn’t. It was a simple understanding, at least for Ian, that they would either work as they were, with a few compromises, or they wouldn’t. All it had taken for Ian to decide he was with Mickey for good was Mickey simply admitting the truth – that he was gay and in love with Ian. It had earned him a hell of an ass beating, and a very awkward moment of living with his wife and his boyfriend, but he’d never once doubted it was the right thing.
Not even when he woke up next to a depressed Ian who wouldn’t leave the bed… Who just wanted everyone to leave him alone. Fiona and Lip had tried to convince him to let someone else take care of Ian… that he couldn’t handle it, and he’d stood firm, in their faces, telling them that no one else needed to take care of Ian. HE would do it. He would take care of his boyfriend, and no one would take that away from him.
So Mickey had changed… from a closeted South Side asshole to an out South Side asshole with a boyfriend who was sick and needed him to care for him. At least that’s what Mickey had thought Ian needed… Someone to care for him, make him take his meds, all that shit. He’d planted his feet that much more firmly that no one was going to take Ian from him – that he would be the one to care for his boyfriend – and that was just that. Staying home, staying out of the psych ward, having Mickey take care of him – those were the things that Mickey thought Ian wanted. And he’d been determined to hang on, but fucked if he didn’t keep losing his footing. He’d fought, clawed, begged, borrowed, and stolen to try and be sure that Ian was with him, and the more he did, the more he felt like he was losing his grip… and the more, apparently, he was pushing Ian away.
In the end, it was all of those things… the way Mickey had changed to try and be better for Ian… that had ultimately destroyed them, at least as far as Mickey was concerned. He’d changed without ever asking Ian if that was what he needed, just assuming that it was. Maybe he’d learned from it, and maybe he’d grown from it, but it didn’t change the past. And now here he was, in a world that didn’t seem to make sense anymore, because he had a real job, making money the legal way, his son and wife were at home, though Mickey was almost 800 miles from Chicago right now. And he’d get home to Yev and Svetlana and his brothers, but no Ian. He’d started this job to get him out of Chicago and on the road… to give him the chance to get away from everything that hurt, and most of all from being so close to Ian that it was physically painful not to go to him. But it hadn’t mattered. He’d changed his whole life, but he couldn’t change how he felt and what was going through his mind. In his house in Chicago, or on a long stretch of highway in a big rig, he was still smoking cigarettes and wishing to hell he could get Ian Gallagher out of his head.
When all was said and done, Mickey Milkovich had always been set in his ways. He made his money the easiest way he knew how, which was generally stealing or pimping, and he didn’t ask anyone for anything. What he wanted, he took, and what he needed, he got on his own. And he’d needed things, certainly, but he’d never needed a person – not until Ian came along and changed everything.
He’d changed everything, but never needed or wanted to change Mickey. He had loved him exactly as he was… a smart mouthed badass with a chip on his shoulder. That was exactly who Ian had fallen for, from the very start. When Mickey had denied heatedly that he was falling for Ian at all, Ian hadn’t tried to make him change or be something he wasn’t. It was a simple understanding, at least for Ian, that they would either work as they were, with a few compromises, or they wouldn’t. All it had taken for Ian to decide he was with Mickey for good was Mickey simply admitting the truth – that he was gay and in love with Ian. It had earned him a hell of an ass beating, and a very awkward moment of living with his wife and his boyfriend, but he’d never once doubted it was the right thing.
Not even when he woke up next to a depressed Ian who wouldn’t leave the bed… Who just wanted everyone to leave him alone. Fiona and Lip had tried to convince him to let someone else take care of Ian… that he couldn’t handle it, and he’d stood firm, in their faces, telling them that no one else needed to take care of Ian. HE would do it. He would take care of his boyfriend, and no one would take that away from him.
So Mickey had changed… from a closeted South Side asshole to an out South Side asshole with a boyfriend who was sick and needed him to care for him. At least that’s what Mickey had thought Ian needed… Someone to care for him, make him take his meds, all that shit. He’d planted his feet that much more firmly that no one was going to take Ian from him – that he would be the one to care for his boyfriend – and that was just that. Staying home, staying out of the psych ward, having Mickey take care of him – those were the things that Mickey thought Ian wanted. And he’d been determined to hang on, but fucked if he didn’t keep losing his footing. He’d fought, clawed, begged, borrowed, and stolen to try and be sure that Ian was with him, and the more he did, the more he felt like he was losing his grip… and the more, apparently, he was pushing Ian away.
In the end, it was all of those things… the way Mickey had changed to try and be better for Ian… that had ultimately destroyed them, at least as far as Mickey was concerned. He’d changed without ever asking Ian if that was what he needed, just assuming that it was. Maybe he’d learned from it, and maybe he’d grown from it, but it didn’t change the past. And now here he was, in a world that didn’t seem to make sense anymore, because he had a real job, making money the legal way, his son and wife were at home, though Mickey was almost 800 miles from Chicago right now. And he’d get home to Yev and Svetlana and his brothers, but no Ian. He’d started this job to get him out of Chicago and on the road… to give him the chance to get away from everything that hurt, and most of all from being so close to Ian that it was physically painful not to go to him. But it hadn’t mattered. He’d changed his whole life, but he couldn’t change how he felt and what was going through his mind. In his house in Chicago, or on a long stretch of highway in a big rig, he was still smoking cigarettes and wishing to hell he could get Ian Gallagher out of his head.