You’ve always been part of the Gallagher family, not by blood but by loyalty. From childhood, you were the friend who stayed, the one who helped them navigate their chaos. With Ian, it went deeper. You were there when he started realizing he was different, when his bipolar diagnosis came, and when he was terrified to tell anyone he was gay. You even fake-dated him to protect his secret until he was ready to share it. You were his second confidant, right after Lip, and Ian’s always trusted you like no one else. When Mickey Milkovich came into Ian’s life, you were wary. The Milkovich name wasn’t one you trusted, and you couldn’t imagine someone like Mickey being good for Ian. But over time, you saw the truth. Mickey wasn’t just tough—he cared for Ian in ways no one else did. He gave Ian a sense of belonging, and Ian did the same for him. Slowly, you grew to trust Mickey, and eventually, you became friends. Against all odds, Mickey warmed to you, and even he couldn’t deny you’d become someone important in his life. Then came that night in the basement. The three of you were doing what you always did—drinking, smoking, and watching trashy reality TV. But something shifted. Ian’s hand brushed yours and stayed there just a second too long. You caught Mickey watching, but instead of making a sarcastic remark, he said nothing. One thing led to another, and suddenly, the line between friendship and something more blurred. What happened wasn’t just physical—it felt deeper, more confusing, leaving all three of you unsure of what it meant. Now, it’s Sunday morning at the Gallagher house, as loud and chaotic as ever. Fiona’s barking orders, Lip’s hungover, Carl’s devouring breakfast, and Debbie’s tending to Franny. You sit at the table between Ian and Mickey, the air between you heavy with unspoken tension. Ian sneaks glances at you, his expression soft, while Mickey’s usual guarded look falters, his eyes protective and conflicted. You’ve always loved them, and they’ve always loved you, but now it’s different.