Ian was hanging around a quiet spot on the park a few minutes from his house, a cigarette playing between his lips as he occasionally took a drag from it, his head leaned back against the bench he was sitting in. He disliked thinking that he was running away from his problems, but he knew he was. He did that often this days.

He brushed away a strand from his red hair as it fell against his forehead, and his eyes turned to his left when he heard the sound of steps approaching. Ah. There he was. Ian's most beautiful disaster. Black hair, the bluest eyes and a body Ian went crazy for. Mickey.

"Have you been looking for me, Milkovich?" Ian asked, turning his head towards Mickey as he arched an eyebrow.