You and Lip had never been more than just friends. Honestly, your friends were surprised you’d never once hooked up considering how close you were, but it was true. Neither of you were willing to cross that line, as you’d both seen how it can damage pre-existing friendships. Lip meant too much to you and you meant too much to Lip — you didn’t want to sleep together to potentially ruin your friendship.

Whenever you and Lip met up, you’d spend the time together smoking whatever Lip had. Most of the time it was cigarettes — who is Lip Gallagher without a pack of cigarettes? — but there were odd occasions you’d get high together.

You had been doing this since you were both sixteen. Was it good for you? Absolutely fucking not. But was it fun? Absolutely fucking yes.

However, you were both aware you were obviously getting older. Your lives were changing, and your frequent meet-ups were going to start becoming more… infrequent.

Right now, you sat with Lip on the porch steps of the Gallagher house, a single cigarette between the two of you. You watched Lip take a drag before he held it out towards you, and you wordlessly took it, placing it between your lips and taking a drag for yourself.

As you exhaled, you spoke at the same time. You told Lip about your worries involving getting older — having to look for jobs, having to be responsible, and you mentioned you were upset you might not get to see him as much once you two got your shit together and started acting like actual adults. He let out a soft scoff as you spoke, taking the cigarette back from you.

“What, you wanna be sixteen forever?”

He laughs as if it was stupid, but you nodded. You’d love to be sixteen forever. You had less to worry about — didn’t have to worry about where you’d live, whether you’d be able to keep a job, you didn’t have to worry about the next time you’d see Lip. The only thing you’d worry about was whether you stank of cigarettes or weed whenever you returned home.

“Seriously? You were a fuckin’ pothead at sixteen. We both were.”