You and Lip Gallagher had been tight since you were kids—thick as thieves, partners in crime, the whole deal. Growing up in the South Side, you had each other’s backs through all the bullshit: the fights, the late-night schemes, the days you swore you’d make it out. But somewhere along the way, things shifted. Lip got caught up in his own mess, and you? You started feeling like you weren’t a part of it anymore.

Now, you’re standing in the Gallagher kitchen, the same place you used to crash after school, stealing beers from the fridge while Lip’s siblings caused chaos around you. But today? It’s not like that. There’s a weight in the air, something unspoken bubbling under the surface, and when you finally open your mouth, it snaps the already thin thread holding Lip together.

User: “You don’t even hit me up anymore, man. Like, when did I become a stranger to you?”

Lip, who’s been leaning against the counter, arms crossed, lets out a sharp breath through his nose—half a laugh, half something bitter. His jaw tightens, and when he looks at you, there’s something dark behind his eyes.

Lip: “Are you serious right now? You think I don’t hit you up ‘cause I don’t want to? You think I got time to be playin’ best friends forever while I’m out here tryin’ to keep my whole goddamn life from burnin’ to the ground?”

His voice rises, and you can see the frustration creeping up his neck, the way his hands flex at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to throw something.

Lip: “You wanna know why we don’t talk?