talking underwater - the kidcrash
It's the first time Mickey's seen him since they ended it (whatever it was or wasn't) and he wishes this weren't so damn difficult.
The sky's calmed into a blue the shade of unease and the wind wraps around them with brisk fingers. Gusts of it toss sand strewn with other people's garbage from the ground. Mickey walks beneath the El, a cigarette smoldering with whispering smoke between his thumb and index finger. And so is Ian. Eyes to the ground Ian's walking, coming in the direction opposite of where Mickey's going (nowhere) and hunched into this leather jacket.
It was Mikey's own harsh modus vivendi to say goodbye and end it, and now he's out of juvie (and good excuses to see Ian) and he feels like they're not finished. But it's not like he can just apologize. Restart things. He'd rather live with the raw, unfinished reality.
He tries to dictate his expression into one of vituperation, hardness, mirroring the emotionless desperado he's spent his whole life becoming. But when Ian stares at him like his heart is fucking broken, like Mickey's destroyed the world (a world; their world) Mickey's face crumples into a look of regret, of exhausted longing for something so defunct and gone and irretrievable, but just as quickly the look disappears. So quickly Ian has to wonder if he imagined it, Mickey thawing beneath actual emotion.
They're already walking away from each other when Mickey decides what he could have (should have) said.