Chapter 1:

Seven years had passed. Seven.

Seven years since Ian's little sister got knocked up, six since his little niece came out of her. Seven years had passed since Fiona met the love of her life, it seemed, though Ian could never be too sure with her. It had been seven years since Carl's first stint in juvie and he'd been walking in and out ever since, eventually upgrading to prison. It was his second home. Seven years, and Ian's older brother – his best friend – was out of college, doing a teaching job at some shithole community college. Seven years since Liam said his first proper sentence; now he never shut up.

Seven years since Ian was diagnosed as bipolar.

He was just as fucked up then as he was now.

Ian supposed the lithium made it easier. The first year or so was just a continued dull state where his brain felt like it was filled with cotton, but the adjustments helped. Now he was able to laugh, work, even fuck when he wanted to – but he rarely did, anymore. Like a normal person.

"Hey, Ii, you want some cereal?"

Ian broke from his fixed daze down at the black coffee in front of him, where he leaned against the counter. He took a breath and smiled automatically when he looked up at his boyfriend, Joaquin, who grazed him softly with his shoulder when he walked past him.

"No, I'm good with coffee, thanks." Ian had barely touched it.

Joaquin smiled at him, that lazy lopsided smile of his, and brushed his outgrown black bed-hair from his matching black eyes. "Okay," he said, then as he poured the milk into his Lucky Charms, he took a better look at Ian, and frowned. "Jesus, did you get any sleep at all last night?"

"Nah, Liam's nightmares mixed with the late-night sex kinda kept me up."

Joaquin grinned unapologetically and took a bite of his cereal. He kicked the fridge door closed and leaned against the counter beside Ian. He licked at the spoon purposefully before taking another bite, making Ian smirk slightly.

"It's only for a few more days. Fi and Sean will be back soon, and then we can return to our rightful place at the Back of the Yards," Joaquin said, with another smile.

"The Southside is our rightful place." Ian took his cup to the sink and poured his coffee down the drain.

Joaquin rolled his eyes. "Joooder, callate, por favor? Stop with the grim ghetto shit, Ian. You rose up in the world, made something of yourself."

Ian frowned and propped himself up against the sink, folding his muscular arms over his equally muscular, and bare, chest. "What ever happened to 'once a hoodrat, always a hoodrat'?"

Joaquin rolled his eyes and set aside his bowl, having practically licked it clean. "Lip said that, not me and I always called bullshit on that. Now I gotta get to the museum before they realize how useless I actually am and revoke my grant money, and you have work in like… T minus ten minutes." Joaquin smiled warmly again as he walked over to Ian, first to put his bowl in the sink, but then to hook his finger in Ian's sweatpants and reel him in for a kiss. Ian liked the taste of sugary Lucky Charms on his tongue and his smile stayed even after Joaquin pulled away.

"I got Donny to cover my shift, so I don't have to get in till late."

Joaquin placed his hands against the bench on either side of Ian, trapping him there comfortably. "True, but you're forgetting you have that parent meeting with Liam's principal in about an hour."

"Shit."

"So, c'mon, vamonos," Joaquin ordered, slapping Ian's shoulder, before heading from the kitchen up the stairs.

"And enough of that switching to Spanish shit," Ian called after him, "I like to know whether or not I'm supposed to be insulted."

"Besa mi culo, puto."

"Fuck you, too," Ian called after him before hearing the door close and the shower turn on. Briefly, Ian considered getting in with him, but opted against it when pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth, still tasting the sugar from when they kissed.

Ian chose a bowl of Lucky Charms instead.

Halfway through his breakfast, finding himself feeling less groggy with every bite of sugary goodness, his sister Debbie came trotting down the stairs. Her red hair was in disarray, knotted at the back, her eyes were black from last night's makeup, and she hadn't bothered to change out of last night's clothes from whatever party of club she stumbled out of.

"Hey, Debs," Ian said brightly.

"Don't," was all Debbie said in response, her voice hoarse. She shoved past him towards the fridge where she pulled out the carton of milk and started chugging.

Ian frowned. "What'd I say?"

She stopped drinking and wiped her swollen lips with the back of her hand, still with the club's stamp on it. "Whatever you're about to say, keep it to yourself, Ian. I wasted an entire night of sleep and an entire day's earnings of booze on this one guy who was sending me signals all night… Turned out to be one of your kind."

Ian stopped, mid crunch. "My kind? Uh, hey—c'mon, that milk's for Liam's breakfast," Ian scolded, pulling the carton out of Debbie's hands when she attempted to chug the rest.

A bit of milk trickled down her chin and she wiped it away. With a click of her tongue, she said, "Whatever," and poured herself some coffee instead. As she sipped from the chipped mug, Ian took a closer look at the stamp on her hand, first frowning, then smiling to himself in amusement. "Um, Debs."

"What?"

"The Long Cocktail's a gay bar."

She shot him a glare over the rim of her mug. "Well, I know that now, don't I?"

"Why do you even have a stamp? You're 21, Debs."

She shrugged dismissively and smacked her mug down on the bench rather petulantly. "What, and I should go around advertising that? Guys like 'em young."

Ian stopped mid crunch again in a moment of judgment, then chose to remain silent and focus on the Lucky Charms, wondering if maybe it would give him some good luck for the day.

Debbie sighed. "Alright, I'm gonna shower."

"Quin's using it."

Debbie pursed her lips, then rolled her eyes, expressing her distaste in the fact. "Fine, I guess I'll wake up Lizzy first, then."

Ian took another bite. "She's already up. Liam, too. They'll be down for breakfast in a few minutes when they're dressed. I'm giving them a ride to school if you want me to drop you off somewhere?"

"Like where, my non-existent job, or my non-existent house?" She sneered, "No thanks, Ian."

Ian chose to keep his mouth shut with a mild bob of his head and felt his shoulders fall to ease when she stomped back up the steps. Ian always was a better parent to her kid than she was – but she tried, or at least Ian liked to think she did.

Ian was given a few more minutes of peace where he finished his cereal, switched the laundry to the drier, put on a shirt, and made the kids breakfast. He didn't need to shout for them, because at 7.30, the two kids were bolting down the stairs, like clockwork.

"Ian!" Little Lizzy beamed at the sight of her uncle, as though he hadn't been there every other morning for the past two weeks, and hugged him tightly around his waist.

"Hey monkeys, food's at the table," he said with a smile and a gentle squeeze of Lizzy's shoulder. She looked exactly like her mother, but with darker eyes and less pale skin. Like her mother, she was a clever kid; knew more than most adults, at times.

They started munching down on their cereal and drinking the juice that Ian refilled when Liam looked up at him and asked with his mouth half-full, "Did Carl call?"

"Nah, not yet, but that could just be because his calling privileges were revoked again. Don't worry, he'll call."

"Okay." Liam's shoulders still slumped with disappointment. Currently, Carl was doing six months for assault, but Carl rarely ever got in trouble for that unless it was voluntary. If asking Lip, he'd say it was to complete some unfinished business which Ian chose to avoid getting involved in.

He placed a hand on Liam's head, making him raise his chin. "He'll call," Ian assured him, knowing it wasn't a lie. The only thing Carl loved more than his 'business' was his family, and that mostly meant his little brother.

"C'mon, eat up. We still have that meeting with your principal. Something to do with your attendance?"

Liam groaned. "Not my fault public school's a piece of shit."

"Hey," Ian snapped, but it was Joaquin who scolded "Language," with the more paternal voice when he entered the kitchen again, fully clothed in what was supposed to be formal attire, but was instead a partially buttoned up shirt, no tie, and a vibrant coloured green t-shirt peaking through. He dragged a towel through his floppy hair, then made to whip Ian's ass with the towel.

Ian grinned but couldn't manage the laugh that Joaquin did. He glanced at the wet-haired boyfriend before beginning to wipe down the table with an already dirty rag. "You leaving, now?"

"Why, you gettin' sick of me?" He smiled wryly, rolling the towel up again and hooking Ian in by the neck, pulling him too close for comfort in front of Liam and Lizzy.

He shrugged, snaking his hands around Joaquin's hips, managing to keep him at a distance. "I'm not getting sick of the paychecks."

He grinned lazily before kissing him again. He held him there until Ian gave in and unclenched his jaw, allowing another taste of Lucky Charms. It was replaced with peppermint that Ian didn't like as much.

"Tryin' to eat, here," Liam mumbled, rising to get his bag and coat.

Ian pulled away, shoving at Joaquin gently and looking to the kids. "Put your dishes in the sink, and we'll go," he told him. Liam did as he was told, but Lizzy kept drinking her juice.

With her big brown eyes, she looked up at him. "Is mom sick again?"

Joaquin left Ian's side when he knelt down beside her chair. Despite the lump in his throat, he assured her that she'd be fine, that Lizzy didn't need to worry.

"If Carl calls, can you tell him I said hi?" Liam asked.

Ian glanced at him and gave a nod, then looked back to Lizzy when she tapped a finger on his shoulder, her nose scrunched up. She leaned close to his ear, making Ian frown curiously, then whispered, "You're my favourite."

Ian smiled again, albeit a broken one that made his heart ache a little bit. She pecked him on the cheek then hopped from the chair and they were all out the door within minutes, Joaquin in his own car.

…

The meeting with Liam's principal was quicker than Ian thought it would be – basically the asshole blabbing on about how much of a slacker Liam was, doing his best to hide the fact that he was a complete racist.

Thing was, when Ian got there, his brother was already there too. Turns out, Fiona had told them both the same information, figuring that one would surely forget in her parental absence.

He and Lip both chose to stay, and with the spare time they'd created for themselves, were able to fit in a coffee at the only Starbucks still available in the Southside. That attempt to better the neighborhood one franchise at a time hadn't panned out.

The Southside was still a ghetto shithole – thank god.

"So how's college going?" Ian asked, though they both knew he didn't really care.

Lip snorted, taking a sip from the most basic drink he could possibly order that was still overly expensive. "A fucking waste of time." He sniffed out of irritation. "Teaching robotics to a community college is like teaching evolution to creationists."

Ian smiled weakly, looking down at his second untouched coffee for the day.

"Fuck it; I only have to teach there two more fucking years… After that I can maybe get a real job."

"Ever thought about talking to your old professors?"

Lip shrugged, taking another swig before putting a cigarette between his teeth. Though dressed like a legitimate adult with a legitimate job, he still always had a cigarette tucked behind his ear. "Nah… The only ones that put up with me either drank themselves to death, filed for sexual harassment, or made the mistake of getting sober."

Ian leaned further into his chair, folding his arms back across his chest. "Didn't think you'd have anything against sobriety, considering Frank."

"Fucker was an asshole without the liquor."

"Kind of ironic, huh?"

"How he died?"

"Yeah."

Lip flicked at his lighter until a breath of smoke clouded his face. He took a puff and tucked his lighter back into his pocket, shaking his head. "Nope. If his liver didn't kill him, how else would the fucker have died if not at gunpoint?"

For some reason, Ian grinned, but Lip didn't comment on him being inappropriate; probably because he gave off a laugh. "Lets talk about something else," Ian said, not wanting to let himself be morbid like Lip.

"Sure," Lip said with a shrug. He took another inhale of cancer. "How're you and Quin doing?"

"Uh…" Ian hesitated, looking down at the coffee cup as he screwed it round. He had to be careful. Lip was the one who had introduced Ian to Quin in the first place; he was the only real friend Lip made in college and it was mostly because he was just as poor and corrupt as the Southside. "We're—"

"Excuse me, Sir, but you're not allowed to smoke in here," a woman said, wearing a Starbucks apron with a slightly frightful smile plastered on her face. Lip looked from the patronizing woman to the cigarette between his fingers, then back to her.

"Oh, gee. Sorry, Miss, I didn't realize," he said, his tone thick with sarcasm which the woman clearly understood but was forced to ignore. When she walked away, Lip took one last long drag before stubbing it against the lid set beside his cup. "Christ, these places… Whatever fucking happened to freedom of choice?" Lip shrugged on his bag that he hadn't replaced since he was 17, and jerked his head towards the door.

Ian followed him without complaint, finding himself unwanted in ritzy places like this. Ian left his coffee where it was, somehow finding the taste too expensive, or something, and followed his older brother out to the street. In the time it took for Lip to light another cigarette, Ian opted for the next conversation starter, veering away from talk of his love life. "You seeing anybody new?"

Lip exhaled and watched the grey smoke evaporate into the air. "Always." Pointedly, Lip looked at his younger brother and cocked a brow. "You?"

Ian frowned again, plucking the cigarette from Lip and taking a sharp drag of his own. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Lip took the time to put the cigarette back between his teeth and smile slowly. "What, you didn't hear?"

Ian's expression remained cold, placing his hands solidly by his sides, conveying his old soldier ways.

Lip's smile grew. He took the time to inhale another drag, just to be more of a dick, before telling him. "Your girlfriend's back in town… Or is it ex girlfriend? You can never be too sure with you two."

Ian brow furrowed more. "Mandy's back?"

Lip breathed in the smoke deep, nodding and saying "Yep," before exhaling. Ian took the smoke from him. "Fuck."

"Already did," Lip said, and it was clear he was only partially joking from the smirk on his face. "Twice."

Ian rolled his eyes, but took the silence Lip gave him to think about Mandy and the last time he saw her. They never talked online, or on the phone. Texting was gay, so he only ever saw her when she was in town. He could barely remember the last time he saw her, except that she punched him in the ribs as a goodbye.

Lip flicked his wrist upright to look at the time. "Fuck."

Ian snapped out of his daze, his brow still furrowed. "What?"

"Uh... Nothin', just a little late for my morning class. Listen, I gotta go, but she's probably home right now if you're thinking of stopping by. You never really know how long she'll stay in one place for a time." Lip started walking off, lighting up what was clearly a joint as he did.

"I'll tell her you said hi," Ian called after him.

Lip spun on his heels, walking backwards as he said, "I think I'll tell her myself later tonight. See ya." The thought of Mandy getting caught up with Lip again didn't sit well with Ian; he loved his brother, but he was still an asshole, and Mandy wasn't.

…

When Lip said she was home, little was open to interpretation. Mandy didn't exactly have many options in this neighborhood, and the fact that Ian hadn't seen her crashing at his place, or Fiona's, that only left one other option.

It had been a long time since he'd been to that place – four years? Five? It was that last time he went off his meds, and it didn't end well. Svetlana and him were close, and so were him and little Yevy, but all that came to a silencing end when he abandoned his babysitting duties for just a minute, attempting to beat Iggy Milkovich's head in with a can of beer. Ian didn't even remember what Iggy said or did to aggravate him, but it worked in cutting their ties.

Suddenly Svetlana's requests for a babysitter stopped, and she grew distant while Ian grew numb once more. They only ever saw each other at The Alibi, these days. How old was Yevy, now? Seven? Eight?

Ian checked his phone on his way out of the car, making sure of the time so he didn't miss his shift. He only had a dozen minutes, or so, but the thought of seeing his 'girlfriend' again made it seem worth it. But once Ian got to the front door, he hesitated – lately he always hesitated, not with work, but everything else – everyone else.

Ian chewed on his lip, his fingers twitching momentarily before clamping his hand into a fist and knocking. Looking around, Ian couldn't help but notice how much better the house looked, even if just from the outside; the yard was no longer filled with broken mechanisms and moldy furniture; the door was repainted; there were even a few flowers planted – dying ones, but still.

If Ian didn't know the place better than he did his own, he would've thought he was knocking on the wrong door. Ian knocked again.

"Fuck off!" Someone shouted from within the house. The voice was deep and gruff and Ian wondered if Mandy brought whatever boyfriend she had with her. Thinking this, Ian chose to knock again, now banging his fist less delicately than before. He never did like Mandy's boyfriends.

"Fuckin' comin'!" The boyfriend shouted again.

Ian sighed through gritted teeth, taking a step back with his hands still in fists in preparation to look tough for the asshole boyfriend that would answer. Ian rolled his eyes when he heard the tediously long rattling of chains being unlocked.

The door opened and Ian did his best to look tough; not hard considering the effort he went through to keep himself in shape. It wasn't Mandy's boyfriend. And it wasn't Iggy or Mandy herself, or Joey, or Terry – who was dead. It was the other Milkovich.

"Hey, Firecrotch."