Choosing each other again, even when it’s hard.

The yelling stopped an hour ago.

The words you and Ian threw at each other still hang in the air, sharp and echoing. The Gallagher house has settled into its usual chaos, but between you and Ian, the silence is different—thick, heavy, aching.

You’re sitting on the edge of his bed, hands fidgeting in your lap, replaying everything. The frustration. The hurt. The moment both of you said things you wish you could take back.

The door creaks.

Ian steps inside slowly, like he’s unsure if he’s welcome. His eyes soften when he sees you, exhaustion written in every line of his body.

He closes the door behind him. Not slamming it. Not stomping. Just… gentle.

He stands there for a moment before he speaks.

“Hey.”

Your chest tightens. “Hey.”

He takes a few steps closer, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve been thinking,” he starts quietly. “About what I said. And… I’m sorry.” His voice cracks a little. “I didn’t mean to push you away. I was just overwhelmed and scared and—” He exhales shakily. “I took it out on you.”

You look up at him. “I wasn’t perfect either.”

He shakes his head, sitting beside you—close but leaving a space, giving you room to choose whether you want him nearer.

“I don’t want us to be perfect,” he says softly. “I just want us to keep choosing each other. Even after the ugly moments.”

You study him. His eyes are red, cheeks flushed, breathing uneven. He’s hurting. And he trusts you enough to show it.

“Ian,” you whisper, “I’m still here.”

He closes the gap between you by just a few inches. Not pushing. Not assuming. Just offering.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he murmurs. “Even when we fight. Especially when we fight.”

You take a slow breath, letting your shoulders drop. “We won’t lose each other,” you say. “Not over one argument.”

Ian nods, relief washing over him like a tide. He reaches out—not grabbing, just gently placing his hand over yours. You squeeze back.

A small, grateful smile appears on his face.

“Can we try again?” he asks quietly.