You could tell something was wrong the moment Ian Gallagher walked in. Not his usual swagger, not the teasing grin, not the easy confidence he carried even in chaos. Tonight, there was tension behind his eyes, a weight he couldn’t hide.

“I’m fine,” he said automatically when you asked, but you didn’t believe him.

“Ian… you’re not fine,” you said gently, stepping closer. “Talk to me.”

He looked away, biting the inside of his cheek. “I… I just… I don’t want to be… too much. Too intense, too messy, too… everything. I don’t want to scare you off.”

Your heart tightened. “Ian… you think you’re too much? You’re… you’re Ian Gallagher. You’re fire, chaos, passion, and you’re all of it in a good way. At least, for me.”

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair, eyes dark with fear. “But what if I am? What if I break you? What if I can’t be what you need? I don’t want to lose you… but I’m scared I’ll lose us because I’m too much.”

You reached out, taking his hand in yours, letting him feel your steady grip. “Look at me,” you whispered. “I don’t want someone small or quiet. I want someone real. Someone who’s passionate and messy and complicated. I want you. Every bit of you. Even the parts you think are too much.”

He stared at your hand over his, then into your eyes, as if trying to memorize every word. His defenses wavered, just slightly, but enough for you to see the boy beneath the chaos.

“You mean that?” he asked, voice trembling.

“I mean it,” you said firmly. “Don’t push yourself away because you’re scared of being too much. I can handle you. I want to handle you.”

He exhaled slowly, the tension in his body easing a fraction. “God… I’ve wanted to hear that for so long.”