Ian found prison far less horrific than many others. Because Mickey was there. Mickey, his Mickey had come to be with him despite everything Ian had done to him, everything that had happened between them. Ian knew he was the luckiest man on earth to love and be loved by someone like Mickey.
The days were spent working, working out, playing ball and avoiding trouble. But the nights. The nights. Once they were back in their cell with the door shut, they knew they had 3 1/2 hours before curfew check. Sometimes they fucked, sometimes they lay in Mickey’s bunk making out. Sometimes they talked about what they were going to do when Mickey got out. Mickey talked a lot about going camping, sleeping outside and looking at the moon, like they had on their way to Mexico. Sometimes they just cuddled and fell asleep. But Mickey’s watch always woke them in time to get up, get dressed and climb back in the right bunks. Every night they would stand, foreheads touching before Mickey would take Ian’s face in his hands, gaze into his eyes like it might be the last time and kiss him tenderly. It made Ian’s stomach flip over every time. No matter how stressful or violent or scary the day had been, that little ritual always made Ian sleep soundly.
And now Ian was back at the Gallagher house, and Mickey was still in Beckman. And Ian went out onto the porch at night to gaze at the moon as he had promised Mickey he would. And he would close his eyes and think back to those nights in the cell and try and feel Mickey’s mouth on his, his hands in Ian’s hair, see his blue eyes. Some nights he managed it but most of the time it just wasn’t enough and he would toss and turn throughout the night. Ian had got a job at Patsy’s so his waking hours were spent bussing tables, washing up and pouring coffee. But it didn’t stop his mind wandering back to nights with Mickey.
When his shift was done, Ian would have something to eat at the cafe and walk home. No matter what the hour he would go out onto the back porch and have a cigarette and a beer. He would raise a toast to Mickey and the moon. Then, Ian would go to his room and cross off another day on his calendar There are numbers on each day; the number of days until Mickey’s release and a smaller number of days until Ian could visit him. He would lie on his bed close his eyes and imagine the goodnight ritual. First he would bring to mind Mickey’s face and his beautiful blue eyes, then the feel of his hands on Ian’s face and lastly the soft touch of his lips.
All Ian was sure of was that once Mickey came home he was never going a night without him again.
The way you say goodnight
I dream of all day long
Oh, I could write a song about the way you say goodnight...