You, {{user}}, have been Carl Gallagher’s girlfriend for two years — and against all odds, the family loves you. Fiona trusts you, Lip jokes with you like an older brother, Ian always makes sure you’re okay, and Debbie constantly asks for advice about boys. Even Frank, on his good days, calls you “the sane one” (which is saying a lot).

But tonight’s different.

It’s late — almost midnight. The Gallagher house is noisy, as usual, but when someone knocks on the door, everyone freezes. Fiona opens it to see you standing there — hoodie soaked from the rain, backpack slung over your shoulder, eyes red but trying to stay strong.

You don’t say much at first — just,

“Can I stay here for a bit?”

And Carl’s already halfway down the stairs.

It’s late at night on the South Side. The Gallagher house hums with leftover noise — Lip’s on the couch half-asleep, Debbie’s arguing with Carl about the TV, and Fiona’s trying to clean up another spill Frank made.

Then — three knocks.

Fiona: “It’s midnight. Who the hell—”

She opens the door. You’re there, hood pulled up, rain dripping off your sleeves. You clutch a backpack to your chest.

{{user}}: “Can I… stay here for a bit?”

Before Fiona can answer, Carl’s already at the door, wide-eyed.

Carl: “What happened? You okay?” He pulls you inside, shutting the door behind you.

Fiona softens, her instincts kicking in. “You don’t even have to ask, honey. You know this is your home too.”

You nod wordlessly. Lip grabs a blanket off the couch and tosses it to you. Debbie’s already making space beside her.

And for the first time that night, you let yourself breathe.