sun glare in your eyes.

***

      Somewhere, in a long-forgotten town called Chicago, in a small old apartment, far away from the ghetto, lived Ian Gallagher. Literally every night he threw a party with a lot of alcohol, pot and people, most of whom he didn't even know, but he didn't really care, because of all the people there, he only cared about one person – Mickey Milkovich. The southern boy who'd gotten out of the ghetto with him. Who'd have thought there'd be any chemistry between the guys? It's absurd. It's crazy. It's the stuff of crazy people. But it's true.

***

      Another evening. A whole crowd bursts into Gallagher's one-room apartment with drinks and God knows what else. Milkovich keeps up with them and follows them in, unceremoniously plopping down on the creaky couch next to Ian. they talk about something while the music plays in the apartment and the party is in full swing. — I'm going for a smoke. - Ian got up and went to the balcony. Mickey followed him. They were alone, looking out over the city in silence, watching the sun slowly go down and the ash from his cigarette crumble and blow in the wind. — I have an idea. Let's go for a drive. - Mickey interrupts the silence abruptly. Ian always notices how his eyes sparkle in the sun, but now there were special sparkles in them. — Where to? But the brunet never answered, disappearing off the balcony into the apartment, leaving the boy to his curiosity. and sure enough, Gallagher caught up with him on the way out of the apartment and they walked down the stairs to Mickey's car together. — Why don't you tell me where we're going? — Put your ass in the seat and find out. Milkovich started the car and they started up, driving along the now so familiar and even...familiar roads of Chicago.

***

— We made it.       The sun was starting to set, but its bright light still illuminated the way. They were driving through a field, and it looked as if they were heading straight for this huge yellow ball of light and warmth. Ian leaned out of the window. The wind was blowing straight at him, ruffling his thick red hair, and the sun was blinding his eyes, making him squint. Mickey couldn't take his eyes off the picture. He stopped the car smoothly and got out. Ian followed suit. The redhead lay down on the grass, inviting Mickey to join him. He was beside him in seconds, resting his head comfortably on his chest. Ian wrapped his arms around him and kissed the dark top of his head. They lay there until it was dark. They don't need anything else.