Loving Ian Gallagher wasn’t simple.

It wasn’t the warm smiles or the teasing jokes or the way he made you laugh even when everything in Chicago felt heavy. Loving Ian meant chaos. Uncertainty. Nights spent staring at the ceiling wondering if he’d stay—or if the demons in his mind would pull him away.

Tonight was one of those nights.

He came home late, coat dripping with rain, boots covered in mud from whatever trouble he’d gotten into. His eyes were dark, tense, haunted, and he didn’t say a word when you approached.

“Ian,” you said softly, putting a hand on his arm. “Talk to me. Please.”

He shook his head, backing away slightly. “I can’t. Not tonight. Just… leave me alone.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “You know I can’t do that. I love you. I want to be here, even when it’s hard.”

He flinched slightly at the word love, eyes flickering with guilt. “Love… love isn’t simple. You think it’s all laughs and warmth? It’s fear, too. Worry. Nights you can’t sleep. Nights you’re scared you’re going to lose me.”

You stepped closer, ignoring the tension, the fear, the chaos in his body language. “I know. And I’m scared too. But it doesn’t stop me from wanting to be with you. Even when it’s hard, even when loving you feels impossible… I still choose you.”

Ian’s breath hitched. He looked at you—really looked at you—and for a moment, the walls around him cracked. “God… I’m not easy. I’m… messy. I fight battles you can’t see. I push people away. And yet… you’re still here.”

“I’m still here,” you said firmly. “Because loving Ian Gallagher… it’s worth it. Every fight, every fear, every broken moment. You’re worth it.”

He finally stepped forward, pressing his forehead against yours. His hands trembled slightly as he cupped your face. “You’re crazy,” he whispered. “Loving me… it’s not easy.”