holding my breath, slowly I said "you don't need to save me, but would you run away with me?"

 It's been about a month now, since he got out of the hospital and he was slowly returning to life as normal. Ian was taking his meds and stuck it out -- despite the horrible way they made him feel those first few weeks. A walking zombie with his mind in a haze; at least he wasn't stuck in a bed feeling like he'd never move again, no. Instead he got to walk around like a fucking extra on an episode of The Walking Dead, looking for a brain to eat. Or to replace his own broken one.

 

Yeah it really fucking sucked. He'd thought about flushing all the pills, he'd thought about swallowing the whole bottle. But after a while he'd dismissed both ideas as he didn't want to quote-unquote pull a Monica as his siblings called it. Referring to him as if he wasn't in the room as they discussed what the next steps would be without asking for any input, as if they weren't talking about his life. Of course - he remembered all the things their mother had put them through over the years, and then he'd gone and stolen his boyfriend's baby and ran a state over with him. 

 

So maybe they had a right to be wary, to take precautions and make sure he did what he was supposed to but it still pissed him off to be asked day in and day out if he was keeping up with the meds. Or putting up with them counting them to make sure he wasn't lying. It was only when he found himself with Mickey was he able to really not feel like he was a bug under a microscope. He didn't ask or needle about anything and let Ian bitch about things when he needed to get something off his chest while they sat on the sofa in the Milkovich house, ate take out and watched movies. 

 

Ian didn't have much of a libido these days, a distant cry from when he could fuck until his dick hurt - now he couldn't even get it up and he'd felt bad about it, embarrassed even. More stupid side effects. He thought that'd be a hindrance, frustrating. He'd apologized over and over again, feeling awful about it. But again -- Mickey didn't care. And to think not so long ago he'd thought it was just about the sex for him... he swallows thickly and ignores the burning behind his eyes as Jason Statham did something that seemed very improbable and illogical but looked really cool on the TV (he wouldn't be able to tell you what this movie was about except that there was a lot of shooting and explosions). He took a long swig of Gatorade (no beer for him, unless he wanted to be sick to his stomach) and looked at Mickey before nudging him with a socked foot. 

"Hey. Lets go out tonight."