Fic: No Guts, No Glory
Title: No Guts, No Glory
Fandom: Shameless (US)
Characters: Mickey, Mandy, with other assorted Milkoviches and some Ian
Pairings: Mickey/Ian, one-sided Mandy/Ian
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Now, he knows the Gallaghers. Frank’s a drunk, Lip’s a stand-up guy, Fiona’s a fox (according to Nicky, Joey and Ferg), one of the little ones is kind of a psycho and the other one is a thief. Ian? He didn’t know that much about Ian. Red hair, that was about it.
Author's Notes: First Shameless fic ever (and my first fic in a long, long, loooong time). I'd love feedback even if it's to tell me that you think it's crap. :P
He’s nine when their dad gets arrested. It’s not his first time, but it’s a first for her. Little Mandy (because that’s all anyone calls her right now. Little Mandy. Even though he was never “Little Mickey.” That doesn’t make him angry or anything, it’s just something he’s already noticed.) stands with her nose up against the window, fogging up the glass as she stares into the backyard. Mickey’s seen it before, dad running into the backyard and the cops chasing after him.
The chase usually takes a little longer than this - dad might climb over the fence and hide in a dumpster or make it to the street and shake them by slipping into the Alibi and out the back door. The pigs have gotten smarter since last time, though. There’s a police car in the alley, waiting for him to climb the fence.
Their brother Nicky runs outside too and starts cussing at the cops. One of the cops shoves Nicky out of the way as they haul dad up and out of the backyard. Nicky comes back into the house, still swearing. Mandy crawls out of her room, nearly colliding into Mickey in the process. They both sit with their backs to their bedroom door and stare at their brother.
Finally, Nicky notices them, leaning against the wall
“Get the fuck up,” he says. When they don’t get up quickly enough, he storms over and yanks them up by their collars. “You’re not fuckin’ dogs.”
“Why’d they take dad?” Mandy asks. Some part of Mickey wants to reach out and shake his little sister, stop her from asking questions. He doesn’t know why he wants her to stop. Maybe it was just because he’d never asked them himself.
“Because he’s a Milkovich,” Nicky says. “It’s happened before and it’ll happen again, so don’t be so fuckin’ surprised.”
They never bring it up again.
*
Terry Milkovich meets Katrina Johnson by way of her sister Jane, the prostitute. He emphasizes that part a lot when he’s telling the story drunk.
“Your mother wasn’t the whore. That was her sister. Your mother was the dealer.”
The boys are never as enchanted with the story as Mandy is.
“So…” she pops her gum. “Our mom was the smart one?”
Dad takes a drag of his cigarette and flicks it out the window into the slushy ice outside. “You bet your ass she was, princess.”
*
When Nicky gets into trouble the first time, Mickey picks up the slack. What else is he supposed to do? Nicky’s old boss comes around on a Friday night to talk business.
“He’s fifteen,” their dad lies. “He’s little, but he’s a tough one. Ain’t ya Mickey?”
Mickey nods.
Their dad keeps talking, selling his youngest son. “Real piece of work, this one. Worse than his brother. Got into a fight this last week at school - almost got expelled. Just about ripped that other kid’s face off. Didn’t ya Mickey?”
“Doesn’t talk much?” The boss - his name is Damien - asks.
“Only when you want him to say something,” their dad re-assures his customer. “Take him out for a trial run, no money down.”
“Okay then, Terry,” Damien smiles. “Bring him around tomorrow night. You know where to go. In a few years, I might have a job for your girl too,” he nods at Mandy, who’s eating chips in front of the TV and pretending not to hear anything.
The words fly out of Mickey’s mouth before he can stop them - “Ain’t possible,” he says quickly. Damien is shocked, but intrigued. Mickey comes up with an excuse just as quickly. “Samson in Riverdale’s already called dibs on her. Not to mention,” he lowers his voice, “I’ve seen some of your girls and… well, I don’t wanna bring down my own sister or anything, but Mandy’s just never going to measure up if you know what I mean.”
It’s a lie, of course, just like Mickey’s age (thirteen now, fourteen in two months). But Damien accepts it. He takes another look at Mandy and shrugs. “Good call.”
After his new boss leaves and their dad goes to buy a pack of smokes, Mandy smacks Mickey on the arm hard.
“Ow, what the fuck?” he whines. She abruptly gets up and heads to the kitchen.
“What do you want for dinner?” she shouts, keeping her face pointed at the opposite wall. “Hurry up and tell me so I can make it before dad comes home.” Mickey smiles. (He knows a ‘thank you’ when he sees one.)
*
Mandy’s skirts get shorter, and her prep time in the bathroom gets longer.
She finally comes out of the bathroom one morning and does a little spin. “Stole it from Target. What do you think?”
Mickey just sneers. “Put some pants on.”
“Fuck off,” she says, with absolutely no conviction at all. “Dad’s gonna get pissed, huh?” she grins at him.
“That’s a nasty-ass reason to wear a fuckin’ skirt,” Mickey tells her, pushing past her into the bathroom.
She sighs. “You wouldn’t understand. You’re a boy.” (She says it like it’s actually a problem. Like he should get his penis fixed at the doctor’s or something.)
“Put some pants on!” he repeats.
Their dad doesn’t notice the skirts, so three weeks later the eyeliner goes on.
Two days after that, she bleaches her hair. She waves it in his face while he’s watching TV.
“What do you think?”
“What am I supposed to think?” Mickey asks, craning his neck to get a better look at the TV. If anyone else had interrupted him during his Supernatural time, he’d kick the shit out of them. “Get your fuckin’ hair out of my face. It’s nice, all right? It’s fuckin’ nice.”
She gives up and hops on the couch, pushing his legs over so that she get comfortable.
“Why do you watch this shit, anyways?” she asks. “Wanna play COD?”
“No,” Mickey says vehemently, keeping his eyes glued to the screen. Mandy pouts, then pokes her tongue out at him.
“Fag,” she snarls at him. He gives her a sharp kick in the side (or as much of a kick as he can manage while lying down). Mandy yelps, but stays in her seat. “He’s got nice abs,” she says off-handedly about the shirtless guy on TV (because who the fuck knew their names anyways?).
“Yeah, whatever,” Mickey sits up and turns the channel. “Let’s play COD.”
*
Nicky gets out of juvie.
Nicky does some stupid shit.
Nicky gets put back in juvie.
Same shit, every single fucking time.
Mickey’s smarter, but even smart kids fucked up sometimes. He’s surprised to find that he doesn’t actually mind juvie as much as he thought he would. He gets to smoke cigs, pump some iron, maybe read a book. Mandy sent him Harry Potter, which is kind of kiddy shit, but he’ll be damned if that Rowling bitch didn’t suck him in by the second book.
(Besides, jail is kind of a Milkovich family tradition at this point and it would be stupid of him to try and change anything.)
*
Mandy’s the only one who visits him on his first time inside. Her hair now has three different colors in it and apparently she’s convinced one of her friends to pierce her nose. He knows she got a friend to do it, because her whole nose looks inflamed and red. She itches around the little piece of metal while she waits for him to come out.
When he rounds the corner into the visiting area, she stops itching and picks up the phone.
“What up?” he asks her.
“Are you someone’s bitch? You can tell me if you are. I mean, you’re in jail. I get it. Are you someone’s bitch?”
“Fuck off,” Mickey says. She giggles.
“So… that’s a yes?” Mickey hangs up the phone.
(It wasn’t a yes. Mickey Milkovich was never anyone’s bitch.)
When he gets out, she presents him with three video-tapes tied together with a bow.
“Every episode you missed,” she says happily. They watch Supernatural for the rest of the day until Mickey’s caught up.
*
Mickey comes home late from work one day to the sound of loud sobs coming from Mandy’s room. Joey and Ferg are playing HALO on the couch, completely oblivious.
“That Mandy?” Mickey asks. They both shrug. As far as his brothers go, these two are the Tweedledee and Tweedle-fucking-dum of the litter, both dumb as fucking rocks.
“Probably. She came in about an hour ago,” Ferg says, keeping his eyes glued to the screen.
“She been crying that long? Jesus,” Mickey sighs and walks up to the door. “Mandy?”
His answer comes in a shriek from behind the door. “STAY THE FUCK OUT!” Mickey eases the door open and walks as quietly as he can to her bed. His sister never cries. Not even when their dad kicked her out of the house for the night for stealing some of his stash to smoke with her friends. She just shouted at him to at least give her a jacket if he was gonna be an asshole and slept in the shed.
Mickey puts a hand on her shoulder. There’s only one thing that makes girls cry like this, and it’s not something that’s allowed to happen to Mandy. Not ever.
“Tell me who it was.” She pushes him away and curls up into a ball on her bed.
“Mandy. Look at me.” She opens her eyeliner-streaked eyes and slowly uncurls. He brings his face close to hers and whispers, “I’ll make him wish he were never born, sis.”
(He’s telling the truth.)
Her sobs become quiet, ragged breaths. He can barely hear her when she says it, but he wouldn’t dare ask her to repeat herself.
“Ian Gallagher.”
Ian fucking Gallagher. Mickey nods.
“He’s dead.”
Now, he knows the Gallaghers. Frank’s a drunk, Lip’s a stand-up guy, Fiona’s a fox (according to Nicky, Joey and Ferg), one of the little ones is kind of a psycho and the other one is a thief. Ian? He didn’t know that much about Ian. Red hair, that was about it.
Sure, there are a few pieces missing from this puzzle, but that’s not the point. This Ian hurt Mandy. So, by default, he’s dead.
*
It all makes sense two weeks later.
When Mandy tells Mickey to leave Ian alone, it doesn’t make sense. When Mandy starts dating Ian, it doesn’t make sense.
When Ian slides a hand down past the waistband of Mickey’s sweatpants, things suddenly start making sense.
Afterwards, things get complicated again.
Mandy punches Mickey in the arm.
“What the fuck,” she hisses. Mickey’s heart nearly stops, but he’s smart enough not to let it show. He shoves her lightly in the shoulder (lightly enough to not send her screaming for dad, that is).
“What the fuck what?” he asks.
“Ian’s black eye,” she says. “You can’t do that. I told you to leave him the fuck alone, asshole.” It’s the first time he’s seen his sister this pissed off in ages. She punches him again, harder. “Stop fucking with him. He’s my boyfriend, remember?”
“Fine with me,” Mickey shrugs. “I’ll be happy if I never see him again.”
(It’s the first lie he’s ever told his sister. He knows automatically that it won’t be the last.)
*
Mandy finally gets around to visiting Mickey in juvie the second time he gets incarcerated. She’s actually wearing pants for once - thank god for small miracles - and has a cigarette tucked behind her ear.
They both pick up the phone.
“Mandy,” he greets.
“Asshole,” she spits, in almost a friendly way. “I still can’t believe you got put away for a fucking candy bar. Snickers aren’t worth that shit.”
“Eh,” Mickey sighs. “You’d be surprised.”
She makes a face. “That was really gay. That thing you just did there.” She sucks in a quick breath. “Oh my god, are you somebody’s bitch? Hold on, let me text Ian. He’s gonna flip.” Mandy pulls out her cell phone and Mickey puts a lot of effort into making his face look as pissed off as it should be. “We miss you,” she comments idly, tucking her phone away again.
“Oh yeah?”
“The house is just never the same without you,” she says sadly. “I mean, I guess I just got so used to the smell of asshole that fresh air is just a shock to me now.”
Mickey narrows his eyes at her and hangs the phone up. She does the same thing.
For the rest of his allotted time, they make faces at each other through the glass.
*
Hours after Mandy leaves, the guards hand him a book.
“From your sister.”
But the note inside says different.
Ian says Kash is putting more money in your account next week. What a dick.
The note’s unsigned, but he recognizes his sister’s shitty handwriting. He flips through the pages (some boring shit, Mandy probably stole it from the library on a whim) and a strip of paper falls out.
Ian Gallagher’s face stares back at him from the strip of photo paper, five times. Once smiling, once serious, once sad, once angry and once asleep.
Mickey shoves Ian back into the book. He shoves the book under his mattress, never to be looked at or opened again. He thinks of how much he bench-pressed today. He thinks of how much his leg itches under his cast. He thinks about Jessica Alba (but that just fucking doesn’t work). He thinks about what movies he wants to see when he gets out. He doesn’t think about the book, or Ian’s face. Smiling, serious, sad, angry, asleep.
He thinks of Mandy’s face. Pissed off, angry, sad, tangled up in shit she shouldn’t be fucking with.
Then he goes to smoke a cigarette.
Mandy’s face doesn’t work for long. He takes the book out that night after his cell mates are all asleep and stares at the cover, afraid (for the first time in his life, maybe) to open the cover.
He doesn’t know how to fight this. He doesn’t know if he wants to.
So, he waits.
(For what, he’s not sure. But he’ll be waiting.)
Fandom: Shameless (US)
Characters: Mickey, Mandy, with other assorted Milkoviches and some Ian
Pairings: Mickey/Ian, one-sided Mandy/Ian
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Now, he knows the Gallaghers. Frank’s a drunk, Lip’s a stand-up guy, Fiona’s a fox (according to Nicky, Joey and Ferg), one of the little ones is kind of a psycho and the other one is a thief. Ian? He didn’t know that much about Ian. Red hair, that was about it.
Author's Notes: First Shameless fic ever (and my first fic in a long, long, loooong time). I'd love feedback even if it's to tell me that you think it's crap. :P
He’s nine when their dad gets arrested. It’s not his first time, but it’s a first for her. Little Mandy (because that’s all anyone calls her right now. Little Mandy. Even though he was never “Little Mickey.” That doesn’t make him angry or anything, it’s just something he’s already noticed.) stands with her nose up against the window, fogging up the glass as she stares into the backyard. Mickey’s seen it before, dad running into the backyard and the cops chasing after him.
The chase usually takes a little longer than this - dad might climb over the fence and hide in a dumpster or make it to the street and shake them by slipping into the Alibi and out the back door. The pigs have gotten smarter since last time, though. There’s a police car in the alley, waiting for him to climb the fence.
Their brother Nicky runs outside too and starts cussing at the cops. One of the cops shoves Nicky out of the way as they haul dad up and out of the backyard. Nicky comes back into the house, still swearing. Mandy crawls out of her room, nearly colliding into Mickey in the process. They both sit with their backs to their bedroom door and stare at their brother.
Finally, Nicky notices them, leaning against the wall
“Get the fuck up,” he says. When they don’t get up quickly enough, he storms over and yanks them up by their collars. “You’re not fuckin’ dogs.”
“Why’d they take dad?” Mandy asks. Some part of Mickey wants to reach out and shake his little sister, stop her from asking questions. He doesn’t know why he wants her to stop. Maybe it was just because he’d never asked them himself.
“Because he’s a Milkovich,” Nicky says. “It’s happened before and it’ll happen again, so don’t be so fuckin’ surprised.”
They never bring it up again.
*
Terry Milkovich meets Katrina Johnson by way of her sister Jane, the prostitute. He emphasizes that part a lot when he’s telling the story drunk.
“Your mother wasn’t the whore. That was her sister. Your mother was the dealer.”
The boys are never as enchanted with the story as Mandy is.
“So…” she pops her gum. “Our mom was the smart one?”
Dad takes a drag of his cigarette and flicks it out the window into the slushy ice outside. “You bet your ass she was, princess.”
*
When Nicky gets into trouble the first time, Mickey picks up the slack. What else is he supposed to do? Nicky’s old boss comes around on a Friday night to talk business.
“He’s fifteen,” their dad lies. “He’s little, but he’s a tough one. Ain’t ya Mickey?”
Mickey nods.
Their dad keeps talking, selling his youngest son. “Real piece of work, this one. Worse than his brother. Got into a fight this last week at school - almost got expelled. Just about ripped that other kid’s face off. Didn’t ya Mickey?”
“Doesn’t talk much?” The boss - his name is Damien - asks.
“Only when you want him to say something,” their dad re-assures his customer. “Take him out for a trial run, no money down.”
“Okay then, Terry,” Damien smiles. “Bring him around tomorrow night. You know where to go. In a few years, I might have a job for your girl too,” he nods at Mandy, who’s eating chips in front of the TV and pretending not to hear anything.
The words fly out of Mickey’s mouth before he can stop them - “Ain’t possible,” he says quickly. Damien is shocked, but intrigued. Mickey comes up with an excuse just as quickly. “Samson in Riverdale’s already called dibs on her. Not to mention,” he lowers his voice, “I’ve seen some of your girls and… well, I don’t wanna bring down my own sister or anything, but Mandy’s just never going to measure up if you know what I mean.”
It’s a lie, of course, just like Mickey’s age (thirteen now, fourteen in two months). But Damien accepts it. He takes another look at Mandy and shrugs. “Good call.”
After his new boss leaves and their dad goes to buy a pack of smokes, Mandy smacks Mickey on the arm hard.
“Ow, what the fuck?” he whines. She abruptly gets up and heads to the kitchen.
“What do you want for dinner?” she shouts, keeping her face pointed at the opposite wall. “Hurry up and tell me so I can make it before dad comes home.” Mickey smiles. (He knows a ‘thank you’ when he sees one.)
*
Mandy’s skirts get shorter, and her prep time in the bathroom gets longer.
She finally comes out of the bathroom one morning and does a little spin. “Stole it from Target. What do you think?”
Mickey just sneers. “Put some pants on.”
“Fuck off,” she says, with absolutely no conviction at all. “Dad’s gonna get pissed, huh?” she grins at him.
“That’s a nasty-ass reason to wear a fuckin’ skirt,” Mickey tells her, pushing past her into the bathroom.
She sighs. “You wouldn’t understand. You’re a boy.” (She says it like it’s actually a problem. Like he should get his penis fixed at the doctor’s or something.)
“Put some pants on!” he repeats.
Their dad doesn’t notice the skirts, so three weeks later the eyeliner goes on.
Two days after that, she bleaches her hair. She waves it in his face while he’s watching TV.
“What do you think?”
“What am I supposed to think?” Mickey asks, craning his neck to get a better look at the TV. If anyone else had interrupted him during his Supernatural time, he’d kick the shit out of them. “Get your fuckin’ hair out of my face. It’s nice, all right? It’s fuckin’ nice.”
She gives up and hops on the couch, pushing his legs over so that she get comfortable.
“Why do you watch this shit, anyways?” she asks. “Wanna play COD?”
“No,” Mickey says vehemently, keeping his eyes glued to the screen. Mandy pouts, then pokes her tongue out at him.
“Fag,” she snarls at him. He gives her a sharp kick in the side (or as much of a kick as he can manage while lying down). Mandy yelps, but stays in her seat. “He’s got nice abs,” she says off-handedly about the shirtless guy on TV (because who the fuck knew their names anyways?).
“Yeah, whatever,” Mickey sits up and turns the channel. “Let’s play COD.”
*
Nicky gets out of juvie.
Nicky does some stupid shit.
Nicky gets put back in juvie.
Same shit, every single fucking time.
Mickey’s smarter, but even smart kids fucked up sometimes. He’s surprised to find that he doesn’t actually mind juvie as much as he thought he would. He gets to smoke cigs, pump some iron, maybe read a book. Mandy sent him Harry Potter, which is kind of kiddy shit, but he’ll be damned if that Rowling bitch didn’t suck him in by the second book.
(Besides, jail is kind of a Milkovich family tradition at this point and it would be stupid of him to try and change anything.)
*
Mandy’s the only one who visits him on his first time inside. Her hair now has three different colors in it and apparently she’s convinced one of her friends to pierce her nose. He knows she got a friend to do it, because her whole nose looks inflamed and red. She itches around the little piece of metal while she waits for him to come out.
When he rounds the corner into the visiting area, she stops itching and picks up the phone.
“What up?” he asks her.
“Are you someone’s bitch? You can tell me if you are. I mean, you’re in jail. I get it. Are you someone’s bitch?”
“Fuck off,” Mickey says. She giggles.
“So… that’s a yes?” Mickey hangs up the phone.
(It wasn’t a yes. Mickey Milkovich was never anyone’s bitch.)
When he gets out, she presents him with three video-tapes tied together with a bow.
“Every episode you missed,” she says happily. They watch Supernatural for the rest of the day until Mickey’s caught up.
*
Mickey comes home late from work one day to the sound of loud sobs coming from Mandy’s room. Joey and Ferg are playing HALO on the couch, completely oblivious.
“That Mandy?” Mickey asks. They both shrug. As far as his brothers go, these two are the Tweedledee and Tweedle-fucking-dum of the litter, both dumb as fucking rocks.
“Probably. She came in about an hour ago,” Ferg says, keeping his eyes glued to the screen.
“She been crying that long? Jesus,” Mickey sighs and walks up to the door. “Mandy?”
His answer comes in a shriek from behind the door. “STAY THE FUCK OUT!” Mickey eases the door open and walks as quietly as he can to her bed. His sister never cries. Not even when their dad kicked her out of the house for the night for stealing some of his stash to smoke with her friends. She just shouted at him to at least give her a jacket if he was gonna be an asshole and slept in the shed.
Mickey puts a hand on her shoulder. There’s only one thing that makes girls cry like this, and it’s not something that’s allowed to happen to Mandy. Not ever.
“Tell me who it was.” She pushes him away and curls up into a ball on her bed.
“Mandy. Look at me.” She opens her eyeliner-streaked eyes and slowly uncurls. He brings his face close to hers and whispers, “I’ll make him wish he were never born, sis.”
(He’s telling the truth.)
Her sobs become quiet, ragged breaths. He can barely hear her when she says it, but he wouldn’t dare ask her to repeat herself.
“Ian Gallagher.”
Ian fucking Gallagher. Mickey nods.
“He’s dead.”
Now, he knows the Gallaghers. Frank’s a drunk, Lip’s a stand-up guy, Fiona’s a fox (according to Nicky, Joey and Ferg), one of the little ones is kind of a psycho and the other one is a thief. Ian? He didn’t know that much about Ian. Red hair, that was about it.
Sure, there are a few pieces missing from this puzzle, but that’s not the point. This Ian hurt Mandy. So, by default, he’s dead.
*
It all makes sense two weeks later.
When Mandy tells Mickey to leave Ian alone, it doesn’t make sense. When Mandy starts dating Ian, it doesn’t make sense.
When Ian slides a hand down past the waistband of Mickey’s sweatpants, things suddenly start making sense.
Afterwards, things get complicated again.
Mandy punches Mickey in the arm.
“What the fuck,” she hisses. Mickey’s heart nearly stops, but he’s smart enough not to let it show. He shoves her lightly in the shoulder (lightly enough to not send her screaming for dad, that is).
“What the fuck what?” he asks.
“Ian’s black eye,” she says. “You can’t do that. I told you to leave him the fuck alone, asshole.” It’s the first time he’s seen his sister this pissed off in ages. She punches him again, harder. “Stop fucking with him. He’s my boyfriend, remember?”
“Fine with me,” Mickey shrugs. “I’ll be happy if I never see him again.”
(It’s the first lie he’s ever told his sister. He knows automatically that it won’t be the last.)
*
Mandy finally gets around to visiting Mickey in juvie the second time he gets incarcerated. She’s actually wearing pants for once - thank god for small miracles - and has a cigarette tucked behind her ear.
They both pick up the phone.
“Mandy,” he greets.
“Asshole,” she spits, in almost a friendly way. “I still can’t believe you got put away for a fucking candy bar. Snickers aren’t worth that shit.”
“Eh,” Mickey sighs. “You’d be surprised.”
She makes a face. “That was really gay. That thing you just did there.” She sucks in a quick breath. “Oh my god, are you somebody’s bitch? Hold on, let me text Ian. He’s gonna flip.” Mandy pulls out her cell phone and Mickey puts a lot of effort into making his face look as pissed off as it should be. “We miss you,” she comments idly, tucking her phone away again.
“Oh yeah?”
“The house is just never the same without you,” she says sadly. “I mean, I guess I just got so used to the smell of asshole that fresh air is just a shock to me now.”
Mickey narrows his eyes at her and hangs the phone up. She does the same thing.
For the rest of his allotted time, they make faces at each other through the glass.
*
Hours after Mandy leaves, the guards hand him a book.
“From your sister.”
But the note inside says different.
Ian says Kash is putting more money in your account next week. What a dick.
The note’s unsigned, but he recognizes his sister’s shitty handwriting. He flips through the pages (some boring shit, Mandy probably stole it from the library on a whim) and a strip of paper falls out.
Ian Gallagher’s face stares back at him from the strip of photo paper, five times. Once smiling, once serious, once sad, once angry and once asleep.
Mickey shoves Ian back into the book. He shoves the book under his mattress, never to be looked at or opened again. He thinks of how much he bench-pressed today. He thinks of how much his leg itches under his cast. He thinks about Jessica Alba (but that just fucking doesn’t work). He thinks about what movies he wants to see when he gets out. He doesn’t think about the book, or Ian’s face. Smiling, serious, sad, angry, asleep.
He thinks of Mandy’s face. Pissed off, angry, sad, tangled up in shit she shouldn’t be fucking with.
Then he goes to smoke a cigarette.
Mandy’s face doesn’t work for long. He takes the book out that night after his cell mates are all asleep and stares at the cover, afraid (for the first time in his life, maybe) to open the cover.
He doesn’t know how to fight this. He doesn’t know if he wants to.
So, he waits.
(For what, he’s not sure. But he’ll be waiting.)