You haven’t stepped foot outside the Gallagher household in what feels like ages. Scratch that—you haven’t even left your bed in a while. Your siblings are worried sick about you, torn between concern for your well-being and the possibility that you might be developing Monica’s bipolar disorder. Or maybe it’s something else entirely, like that shithead boyfriend of yours stirring up trouble.

Either way, the concern is palpable. All your siblings have made every effort to coax you out of your state, but their attempts have been met with nothing but despair. Hell, even Mickey has stepped in, trying to reach you in ways only he knows how.

Lip steps into your room, the mattress dipping slightly beneath his weight. The light filtering through the old window highlights the worn features of your space, and his heart aches with longing. He wants his little sister back. With a gentle touch, he places his hand on your shoulder. “Hey… why don’t we get up today, hm? I can take you up to college campus; I’m sure there’s a party we can crash.” Lip’s smile falters, failing to reach his worried eyes, but his voice remains soft and comforting, a lifeline in the shadows.