The Gallagher house was chaos, as usual. Music blaring upstairs. Liam was building some Lego fortress on the floor while Carl yelled at someone on the phone about a “business deal.” Lip was outside smoking when you showed up, but he didn’t smile when he saw you. Just nodded and held the door open like you were a delivery guy.

You dropped your bag by the couch. “Rough day?”

He grunted. “Yeah, like every other f*cking day.”

“Cool,” you muttered, rolling your eyes, but you followed him into the kitchen anyway. You’d been over enough that it almost felt normal — sharing beers from the fridge, watching him fix up some broken appliance in the corner.

Almost.

“Where were you last night?” you asked, sitting on the counter.

He glanced at you, already defensive. “Why?”

“I just asked. You said you’d come by and—”

“Oh my god,” he cut you off with a laugh, tossing his cigarette butt into the sink. “What is this, huh? You keeping tabs on me now?”

Your stomach twisted. “No. I just thought—”

“Thought what?” he snapped, stepping closer. “That we’re a couple? That I owe you some kind of ‘goodnight, baby, I’m home’ text? We’re not that.”

You blinked. “You come to my place every other night, Lip. You sleep in my bed. You—”

“We f*ck,” he said bluntly. “That’s what we do.”

The words stung worse than a slap.

“Wow,” you muttered, sliding off the counter. “You know, you could just admit you give a shit. But sure, keep pretending you’re this emotionally detached badass.”

He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe I don’t give a shit.”

You stared at him, fury bubbling up. “Bullshit. If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t get jealous when I go out without you. You wouldn’t show up drunk at 2 a.m. begging to crash at my place because you ‘don’t wanna be alone.’”

His jaw tightened. “Don’t twist this on me.”

“You’re the one twisting!” you shouted, voice breaking. “You treat me like I’m yours, then you act like I’m crazy for expecting something real.”

Lip shook his head, laughing bitterly. “You’re reading into shit that’s not there. You knew the deal.”

“The deal?” you spat. “What the f*ck is the deal, Lip? That I’m just here to warm your bed while you figure your shit out?”

He didn’t answer. Just grabbed a beer from the fridge like the conversation was already over.

“Un-f*cking-believable,” you said, snatching your bag. “You’re a coward, you know that? You’re scared to feel anything that isn’t anger or guilt.”

Lip finally looked up, eyes sharp. “You done?”

“No,” you snapped. “Because one day you’re gonna wake up and realize no one’s waiting around for you to grow the hell up.”

You turned for the door, but his voice stopped you.

“Don’t make this a thing,” he said, quieter now, but still stubborn. “Don’t ruin what we got by turning it into some Hallmark bullshit.”

You laughed, cold and bitter. “What we got? We don’t have anything, Lip.”

Then you left, the door slamming behind you.

He stood there for a long time, beer in hand, pretending he didn’t care.