GAME OVER ━━ Lip Gallagher

CHAPTER THREE

He sighed and rested his head against hers. She didn't move, choosing to not question his overly affectionate actions at that time, or any time. She wasn't one to make him feel uncomfortable or uneasy. After a while, everyone finished their food and was still watching the same program. Phoebe and Lip had gotten even more comfortable, so comfortable she could feel her eyes slowly closing. Her hand rested against his stomach, legs curled up to herself. His hands remained touching her, like he needed to make sure she was still there. "We've been fishing for thirty six hours now and we haven't made a dime yet. We're getting, like, one hundred fifty crabs and only seven kilos a pot."

The door slamming tore the family away from their show. Each head turned to the front door where Frank walked in, face and chest covered in blood. "Woah," Steve exclaimed, "you okay, Frank?" Phoebe sat up in surprise. It was older, the blood. It was clotted around his nostrils. Frank didn't answer, instead throwing his jacket onto the staircase. "Hey," Ian spoke up, standing from his seat. He approached his father with distaste. "That my shirt?" He looked indifferent. He was probably coming down from a bender. No one looked too worried about him, anyway. "Yeah," Frank finally answered.

Frank changed. Both Phoebe and Lip sat up in their spot upon noticing it. Ian flinched, backing away as Frank stalked toward him. "Uh, I'm just asking," he stated to try and clear the growing tension within the room. What happened next shocked everyone in the room. Lip jumped, elbowing Phoebe right in her chest. Fiona gasped, and Steve leapt from his spot. Frank had thrown his head into Ian, promptly busting his nose and spraying blood everywhere. Ian fell back onto the coffee table, grunting at the pain in his face and his back. Chaos ensued. "Guy in the bar said pass it on!" Frank shouted at his boy. Phoebe knelt beside Ian, worry etched on her face.

          "What the fuck is wrong with you, Frank?" Steve asked the man, shoving him hard against his chest. Ian looked over to Phoebe with glossy eyes. She felt her heart clench. "Holy Christmas," she whispered. Veronica grabbed Carl, holding him close. "You're drunk, Frank. You're drunk." Frank scoffed. "This is drunk?" he asked incredulously. Phoebe helped Ian stand up by grabbing his waist. "You okay?" she asked. The blood dribbling down his chin answered her question, however, and she didn't like it. "Lip, get a wet rag, okay?" she told the older brother, but he was so distraught by everything going on, he didn't know what to focus on. "This isn't drunk. You wanna see drunk?"

          "Don't do this to your kids, Frank." Phoebe bunched up some left over napkins and pressed them under his nose. Ian flinched. "Jesus, Pheebs. Be softer," he begged of her, creating a steady flow of guilt filling her up. "I'm sorry," she replied. She didn't even notice the fact his blood was now staining her fingers. "What are you, a tough guy, Steve? You think you're a fucking tough guy?" Everything was only getting louder. Phoebe closed her eyes for a moment. "Because you look like a premenstrual Filipino! Sorry, Lip's friend."

As Steve lurched toward Frank, Fiona finally placed herself between them. "Steve, go. Get out," she spat angrily. "Hey, just go." Phoebe glanced toward Lip, who had found himself standing protectively beside her once Frank placed her in the conversation. His hands sat at his sides, rolled into tight fists. "He's shitting his pants," Frank taunted. "Pussy." Steve scoffed. "You're pathetic, Frank!" Ian's eyes finally released the pent up tears, letting them slide down his freckled face. "Let's go upstairs, okay? I'll get a wet rag." He nodded slowly, placing his hand over Phoebe's. "I got it," he told her, his voice muffled from the pressure of the napkins.

"Come on. Don't go. Come on!" Frank goaded. He wanted to start a fight. Phoebe lead Ian toward the stairs, ignoring the vulgar insults flying from their semi-intoxicated father. "Pheebs," Lip called out, only to be ignored. "It's a bloody nose," Frank sighed. "Didn't anyone notice I was bleeding?" Lip sighed. Then, they were gone. Phoebe led Ian into the bathroom and placed him on the edge of the bathtub. She took one of the cleanest looking rags and ran it under cool water. "Don't tilt your head too far back or you'll choke on the blood," she told him. His eyes widened. "Is that real?" he asked, voice trembling.