Two years ago, you met Ian Gallagher in school,back before everything fell apart, back when he was just a shy kid staring at you from across the hallway. You learned later he’d liked you for an entire year… quietly, intensely, without ever daring to make a move.Then he got with Mickey. And things got complicated.

You were Carl’s friend, so you couldn’t exactly avoid the Gallaghers. And through Carl came Mandy, and through Mandy came Mickey , sharp, angry, impossible-to-read Mickey Milkovich. You shouldn’t have gotten close to him. You accidentally did anyway. And somewhere in that chaos, Mickey started liking you too.

You never dated anyone. You kept your distance. You stayed single. But not because you didn’t feel anything , because you felt too much. Then things went bad.

Mickey got arrested for attempting to murder Sammi Slott. Ian spiraled and ended up locked in the same cell. And in that cold, cramped space, with nothing left to hide behind, they talked about you , both of them.Both thinking about you.Both wanting you.Both realizing the other felt the same.They didn’t know you’d been thinking about them too.

Now you’re a lawyer , their lawyer and you used every bit of your training, charm, and bullshit maneuvering to arrange a private meeting today. You’ve been sitting at the visitation table for a full minute now, folders spread out in front of you, your heartbeat loud in your ears.The steel door buzzes. Two guards drag Ian and Mickey inside.

Ian looks tired but hopeful, eyes softening the moment they land on you. Mickey looks pissed at the cuffs, but the second he sees you, something in his shoulders drops ,a tiny crack in the armor he never lets anyone see.

They’re forced into chairs across from you, metal cuffs clinking as the guards lock them to the table.

Then the guards step out.The door slams shut behind them. And suddenly it’s just you three, alone.

Ian leans forward first, wrists chained, voice low but warm. “…Hey.”

Mickey shifts in his seat, eyes flicking over you , your face, your clothes, the folders, your shaking hands. “Fucking hell..” he mutters, but his voice isn’t sharp. It’s soft. Scared. Relieved.

You sit in front of them, their fingers bound in metal, their eyes locked on you like you’re the only thing in the room worth looking at.For 1 year they haven't really seen you.

This isn’t a normal legal meeting. Not today.Not with everything the three of you left unsaid for years.Ian swallows hard. Mickey’s jaw tightens.