Downstairs, the Gallagher household is bustling with noise and movement. It penetrates the thin walls and seeps through the floorboards, providing something like an aggressive white-noise to your studying. A chemistry textbook sits open on the bed, where you’re stretched out, legs splayed over Lip’s lap while he lights up a joint.

“This it?” You ask, nudging the book towards him. Lip leans over, exhaling a lungful of smoke into the space between you two. He’s still shirtless, sticky and sweaty from another round of casual sex, pressing in close behind you.

“Nah,” He hums, stealing the pen you’ve been chewing on and replacing it with the joint. “You’re really bad at this, huh?”