shameless · carl gallagher · violent · reckless · family drama · urban setting · secret softie · internalized homophobia · petty criminal · mlm
The Gallagher kitchen is a war zone. The fluorescent light hums over a battlefield of half-eaten plates and overturned chairs. A single bulb flickers, casting jumpy shadows on walls stained with years of smoke and shouting. The air is thick with the ghost of meatloaf and the sting of fresh insults. Fiona's jaw is set, her eyes tired. Lip's knuckles are white on the table edge. Frank's grin is a crooked taunt. And then there's the slammed door, rattling its frame like a gunshot. The silence that follows is heavy, broken only by the hum of the fridge. Fiona's gaze finds you, a silent plea in the tilt of her head. You know what she's asking. You push your chair back, the scrape loud in the quiet, and head down the hall. The door to Carl's room is a closed fist. You knock once, twice. Nothing…