HARD TIMES ━ lip gallagher²

06 | walmart

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"HEY BRAD," AMARA GREETED as she stepped into the living room. He raised a hand in reply from where he was laying on the couch, and she made her way into the kitchen to drop her purse on the counter. The house was eerily quiet, an unusual occurrence. She glanced around hopelessly.

"He's upstairs," Brad called to her, she smiled over at him in thanks and walked towards them. Even the second floor of the house was silent—granted, it was late—but that never stopped anything before. It was so weird.

When she reached the entrance to Lip's room, she hesitated before knocking on it lightly. There was no response, but she pulled it open anyway, and stood at the door when she saw his back turned to her, seemingly asleep. Amara kicked off her shoes and climbed onto the bed next to him, surprised when he rolled over onto his other side to face her.

He tentatively reached out to brush the pad of his thumb against her cheek before allowing his hand to drop to her waist. She pressed closer to him and looked up curiously. "The hearing didn't go good?"

Lip shook his head, absentmindedly rubbing his arm up and down her side. "No. Youens is in jail."

She frowned and leaned forward to softly kiss him. "I'm sorry."

"Nah, don't be. Not your fault."

"Still am."

He flipped onto his back while Amara raised herself up onto her elbows, watching him. The moonlight was shining through the curtains drawn up on the window, pouring color onto his bare chest inside of the dark room, she couldn't look away. Lip sighed. "I've been fighting off the urge to have a drink all day."

"Well you didn't, did you?"

"No."

"Good," she shuffled closer. "I'm proud of you."

"It's all I can think about. And this shit isn't helping distract me either. I mean, Youens didn't even seem to care about his court hearing. He got drunk. He said he chose booze a long time ago."

She pursed her lips. "You can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved, Lip."

He looked up to her. "You saved me."

Her heart soared, but she shook her head. "Only because you allowed me to. Even then it was tough. And I barely did shit, that was all you."

He scrubbed a palm over his eyes. "Cami won't take Brad back, which is understandable, but I walked downstairs this morning to see him crying on the floor. In his underwear."

Amara covered her snort with a cough. Lip smirked at her—and she laughed even harder. "That's a sight for sore eyes."

"I don't know how long I can keep this up. I mean, I'm struggling to stay sober myself. I can't hold them up, too."

"No one is asking you to. Besides, the only person who can make a person stay sober is themself. The blame doesn't fall on you if they relapse, Lip."

"But what if I did?" He questioned, fiddling with the covers. "You'd blame yourself, wouldn't you?"

Amara exhaled. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I would."

"It's a Catch-22."

She kicked his leg. "I don't think that's how it works."

He nudged hers back. "I still need a distraction."

Her mouth tugged into a grin, and she rolled over so that she was straddling him. His hands came up to grip her waist. "How's this for a distraction?"