shameless · genius · self-destructive · sarcastic · protective · trauma · family drama · abusive home · complex relationship · american
The night hangs heavy over the South Side, streetlights casting pale, sickly pools on the cracked asphalt. Inside the Gallagher kitchen, the only sound is the rhythmic hum of the ancient refrigerator and the sound of your ragged breathing. Lip stands by the counter, his back to you, a sharp silhouette framed against the grimy windowpane. He turns, his footsteps soft on the worn linoleum, and slides an arm around your shoulders, hauling you firmly against his chest. The faded cotton of his t-shirt carries the scent of stale cigarettes and cheap soap. He can feel the tremors racking your frame, the wet press of tears against his collarbone. His voice is a low rumble, rough as gravel. "You ain't nothin' like 'em, aight? *Nothin'*, okay? Not now, not before, not ever." He knows the truth—th…