Title froim Richard Siken's 'A Primer for the Small Weird Loves'.

Mickey sits in the corner of the room, watches the skanks in their fucking pink dresses dance with guests he doesn't give a single shit about. His dad invited them all; wanted people to see his son getting married, show that he's a real man. Laughing quietly to himself at that thought, Mickey shakes his head, takes another swig of his beer.

Would his dad be looking so goddamn pleased if he knew that he took it up the ass only minutes before getting married? Would he be practically fucking beaming if he knew that Mickey basically confessed his feelings for another guy? Half of him wants his dad to know, wants to nail it into his thick skull that this shit won't change him, that the bitch in her nasty-ass excuse for a wedding dress will never fucking change him.

But, as bad as his life is right now, he doesn't want to die. He doesn't want to be cast out. Won't have any place to go if his dad just threw him away like the trash he thinks he is. No. This is easier. And if Gallagher just took a step back and looked at the bigger fucking picture, he'd get that. Because Mickey will never be able to have Ian in any other way. He will always have to be his bit on the fucking side.

And it's probably selfish - bullshit, he knows that it's selfish - to expect Ian to be okay with that. But what the fuck else can Mickey offer? What else does he have to give? Because he doesn't get to say it, how he feels, and he sure as shit can't show it, so what else is he supposed to do?

He knows Ian stuck around for the wedding. No clue why; what'd he want to see? Because he already knew Mickey was going to do it. And Mickey saw, out of the corner of his eye when he was stood in front of all those people holding her fucking hand, he saw Ian stand and walk to the bar. He saw him down something. Vodka, probably. Gallagher can drink that shit like it's water.

What Mickey didn't know is that Ian has been here the whole time. Because after they said their vows and shit, he went to the corner of the room, sat on the seat he's still on and slowly began to drain a six-pack. Everyone was (still is) too wasted to even realise that the groom wasn't exactly having much of an interest in his own wedding. But he can't bring himself to care.

Svetlana asks him to dance - for the fifth time - and he's past the niceties, past pretending to not hate her. So he says, "Fuck off", with as much spite as he can and watches her frown at him before walking away.

And it's when he sees her pull some random into her arms that he notices him. Sees him hanging off of Lip like if he weren't he'd be on the floor. It hits Mickey that Ian's like this because of him. He's gotten completely shit faced because of him. Because of the stupid, too-big tux he's wearing, and the empty promises he's made to some bitch he knocked up, and the words he's said to him that didn't mean enough. Because Ian's always, always, been someone's dirty little secret. And he doesn't want to be Mickey's. Can't be anything more, though.

Mickey can't make out what he's saying at first; the music too fucking loud and Ian too quiet. But then Ian's shouting, "The guy you've been fucking gets married to some random Commie skank!", and Mickey's actually glad that the music is so loud because fuck!

He wants to bash his head back against the wall because fucking Mandy is practically gaping and he can tell that Ian isn't just drunk-pissed. Because he gives Mickey the goddamn stink-eye for calling Linda 'towel head' and it fucking kills him that Ian's like this, that he screams, "Fuckin' Commie!", as he throws his cup and has to be dragged out by his brother.

Because Ian's got this control, he's always got this control. When he's fucking, when he's riling Mickey up, when he's trying to fucking reason with Mickey. Ian is all control where Mickey is last minute decisions and stupid spontaneous ideas. Like kissing Ian. Both times. Like inviting him round his house; pinning him down on his bed that first time because Ian would never have initiated anything, never; seeing Ian as soon as he's out of juvie. Both times.

Mickey didn't think he'd ever see Ian like this.

And he doesn't know how he managed to convince himself for so long that Ian was a good fuck and only that. Because he sure as shit isn't. And Mickey hates that almost as much as he likes it. Because for a long time he thought he'd end up like one of those sad, pathetic pricks who nobody ever cares about so they end up not caring about nobody.

Except maybe it'd be better if he already was one of them. Then he wouldn't have the memories of all the times he's broken Ian, brought him a little closer to this moment. If he didn't care then he wouldn't have some fucking shitty gold ring on his finger and a wife he'll never want or love with a kid he'll hate and inevitably fuck up along with this excuse for a marriage.

But if Mickey didn't care, never cared, then he'd never have had Ian. And fuck it, because maybe he's worth it.

I'm just going to assume that Svetlana is actually pregnant, even though she may not be.

And I'm not sure my heart will ever recover from last night's episode because so much shit went down, fuck.