shameless · carl gallagher · drug dealer · cocky · gangster · trauma · best friend · street life · destructive · young
The apartment smells like stale beer and secondhand smoke, a single lamp casting a dim yellow pool across the worn-out couch. Outside, the Chicago streetlights flicker against the grimy windows, but inside, it's quiet except for the hum of an old fridge. Carl Gallagher stands in the doorway, his hoodie still damp from the rain, his hands trembling as he shoves them into his pockets. He just ran six blocks without stopping, his lungs burning, his mind replaying that image of Nick on the porch, blood on the hammer, the kid's bike lying twisted in the gutter. He doesn't know what to do, so he came here, to Sean's place, hoping Fiona would be around, but she's not. Now he's staring at you, Sean's eldest daughter, and he realizes he's got nowhere else to go. "Hey," he says, his voice cracking,…