Chapter Text
The first time he called him, he didn't even remember picking up the phone. Josh was on his way over, he was sure of that but he sat on the small bed in his shitty apartment in east Jesus nowhere, fingers clicking buttons he didn't give them permission to. His hand gripped the phone with white knuckles, breath coming in tight pulls as the call connected. A raspy voice crackled through the connection and he swallowed on impulse.
“What?”
“It doesn't matter that you've never told me.” He felt the words tumble out before he knew he was saying them and the silence on the other end spoke volumes on how well it was received. He steadied his breath, eyes squeezing closed with a mouthed 'fuck.
“I mean...I know. Even if you never said how you fucking feel, I understood.” His head tilted to the side, little wisps of memories circling the empty space in front of him. “I know that you love me. And I know you hate it so much that sometimes it makes you hate me.”
He laid his hand on his knees, fingers spread out as the quiet breathing on the other end signaled he was at least listening.
“I know you think I'm childish and that I'm always asking for the world from you. But...I also know you gave me as much as you could.”
A lump pressed at the back of his throat as he looked up, watching his own life in front of him like a ghostly movie on repeat, lying on his back on the bloody rocks, sucking in air after it was punched out of him.
“I know that you're terrified. And I know that you think what you're doing will protect you. Protect us. I know you're doing what you think is best.”
His thumb unconsciously rubbed over the small scar on his temple, tracing the white line with slowly closing eyes.
“I'm not calling to ask you for anything. I'm not going to beg you to leave her or to shout anything from a rooftop. I'm just calling...fuck I don't know why I'm calling.” He rubbed his hand furiously over his reddening face, legging jiggling up and down in nervousness as the silence on the other end threatened to pull up that same disappointed feeling Micky seemed to always create.
“I think I just wanted to hear your voice.” He hated how small his words sounded, letting the phone fall down as his finger clicked the end button. He stared at the black screen for a long time with unblinking eyes, waiting for the tightness in his chest to fade to a manageable pull.
“Ian..?” His eyes slid up from the phone clutched in his hand to dark eyes staring at him with concern. “Are you ok?”
He felt himself nod, not sure why he couldn't quite let the phone go. “When did you get here?”
“You did say 7, right?” And suddenly he remembered the date he had planned weeks ago. “Dinner?”
“Right...fuck I'm sorry.” He didn't miss the way the other man's eyes fell to his phone, eyes curious. “I was just making a call.” Josh nodded slowly, and Ian stood, pocketing the phone. He knew he wouldn't push. Josh was from a good family with good values. The kind where dirty laundry always stayed hidden and you never said what you felt until you were too drunk to stop yourself or to pissed to care. If he wasn't so unlike Mickey in every other way he would almost have thought they were the same.
As their hands slid into place, squeezing softly, he couldn't help but quirk a sad smile, hoping like hell Josh didn't notice.