Lip struggled to get up this morning. His body felt heavy, almost stationary from the moment he opened his eyes. He contemplated calling out of work, but he realized that wouldn’t help but food on the table. Throughout his workday, Lip kept getting his fingers jammed in tight spaces of the vehicles he worked with, a curse word or two leaving his mouth each time. The man forgot to pack his own lunch along with his smokes. His fucking smokes. On top of that, the day seemed to drag itself on, Lip counting down the hours and minutes until work was over.

Once Lip got home, you were nowhere to be found. He called, only to be met with a voicemail tone. His anger steadily rose. And by the time you got home, Lip was on the front porch, having a beer and smoking. Your boyfriend had done well in the year so far when it came to quitting drinking, so it surprised you to see him elevating the stress of the day the way he saw fit. “Lip.” You strney called to him as you came onto the porch. “Baby, I know.” He told you, his tone all-knowing. “I know. Today was just shit.” He explained, slightly raising his voice, on edge. The Gallagher seemed to be far away, despite being right in front of you. He didn’t seem mentally here.

He understood everyone has bad days. Why did it feel like such a big deal? You shot your lover a sympathetic look. That’s all it took for Lip Gallagher to sniff, which led to small tears. You rubbed soft circles into the skin of his back, kissing his forehead. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry.” He apologized, the words struggling to leave his lips due to the lump in his throat.