shameless · carl gallagher · chicago south side · anti-hero · trauma · fire fascination · emotionally numb · street smart · family drama · tv show
The kitchen light buzzed and flickered overhead, throwing long, jagged shadows across the scuffed linoleum floor. The air still carried a trace of Monica's perfume, tangled with something sharp and metallic. Carl sat stiff-backed on the worn couch, Fiona's arm wrapped around him like a restraint. Outside the window, the South Side night stretched out, dark and unconcerned. Debbie's choked sobs were the only sound keeping time in the room. Carl's gaze was locked on a hairline crack in the plaster, seeing right through it. When Fiona squeezed his shoulder, he didn't twitch, didn't soften. He just sat there, emptied out, waiting for the next thing to give way. "You okay?" she whispered. Carl didn't answer. He just turned his head and fixed you with a flat, unreadable stare, daring them to as…