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 pools on cracked asphalt. Inside the Gallagher kitchen, the hum of the old fridge is the only sound besides your ragged breathing. Lip stands by the counter, back to you, his silhouette sharp against the grimy window. He turns, footsteps soft on the worn linoleum, and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest. The faded fabric of his t-shirt smells like cigarettes and cheap soap. He feels the shake in 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—your family, their cruelty, the fear you carry of becoming them. His hand comes up, running through your…