Ian can't break because he doesn't have that liberty.
It's how it was, how it is and how it always will be.
It's Lip that notices it at first. Living with someone gives you the privilege of seeing every miniscule shift in them.
Lip wishes he noticed sooner. (Lip wishes he hasn't noticed at all)
It's in the twitch of Ian's fingers and the way he holds his cigarettes. It's the coiled muscles under his knuckles and the way they always stay tight, tight, tight (so fucking tight) all the time. It's the tension in his raised shoulders like he's holding himself back from breaking out of his own skin. It's the furrow in between the bridge of his eyebrows and the thin line of his lips pressed too hard together. It's his protruding jaw that's emphasized by the painful clench of his jaw. It's everything in his posture and the vibe he emits in the air. It's everything and nothing to do with Ian.
It's Ian and at the same time not Ian at all.
Lip (ever the smart fucker) notices things and he makes it his job to notice things when it comes to his family because sometimes Fiona is too busy barely making ends meet and the others are young. It's the older brother in him that grew up protecting Ian and instinct never goes away. So Lip spots it first (and maybe even last) and wonders how he never noticed before.
It's blatant when one day Frank comes in carrying the stench of vomit and whiskey around him and takes a swing at Ian for 'looking like that fucking whore' and successfully breaks his nose. Lip waits for Ian to spring up and hit Frank back because it would be justified.
He's surprised when all Ian does is stand there with blood gushing down his nose and staining his lips and white knuckles clenched around a pack and a lighter. He's even more shocked when all Ian does is storm out of the house.
Later that night Lip kicks off his shoes and sits on the bed where Ian is sitting cross legged and sporting a cold beer between his bony fingers. His nose is swollen and there are some flakes of blood under his jaw and on his mint green t-shirt.
"Why the fuck didn't you deck him back?" Lip asks out of curiosity and a sense of brotherly duty.
Ian looks up and stares at Lip for a good five seconds, his hands drumming the neck of the beer bottle as he contemplates his answer. He clenches the bottle tightly between his fingers and takes a large gulp before answering.
"I fucking told you before. If I hit him, then I'd kill him. No fucking in-between"
Lip stares at his brother and thinks that this should be the biggest tell that something just might not be right because Ian seems dead serious and the ever present warmth in his eyes is replaced with something that's just not Ian.
He nods at Ian and thinks that he should have noticed sooner that something might not be right with the ginger. Lip wishes he noticed sooner.
(Lip will later wish that he never noticed it at all.)
All of the Gallagher siblings have a certain level of fucked up in them that's factual and permanent. With the lifestyle they have been living it's kind of a given and probably as normal as breathing.
Fiona has abandonment and trust issues. (Don't they all?)
Lip has mommy and daddy issues that are physically present in the worst ways possible.
Carl is a self-proclaimed and family approved sociopath.
Debbie tried to drown a 'whore'.
Liam is Liam. (Not much to say about a baby)
Nobody notices that Ian might as well be the most fucked up out of all six of them because Ian has the best mask ever.
Ian has his smile (and is too fucked up for anyone to miss but they do).
Ian smiles and all is well because he's Ian and his ever shit eating grin is the proclamation of sunshine and rainbows.
Ian smiles and all is well.
(Except it isn't and only Ian knows this.)
It start's when Ian walks home with a cut eye and a split lip, smiling like he's high as a fucking kite, whistling Bob Marley under his breath.
Fiona looks up and stares at him from where she's making pancakes for dinner. Jimmy is nowhere in sight. Her eyes widen as she takes in his appearance and springs across the room clutching his face into her hands non-too gently.
"What the fuck happened to you?" she inquires as she turns his head from left to right, inspecting for further damage.
"No fucking clue" he mutters and moves away, ending the conversation then and there. Truth is Ian really has no fucking clue what happened. He can't recall even when he rakes the black corners of his mind trying to come up with an answer as to why he has a cut above his eye and why he feels so fucking good.
He's giddy and full of misplaced endorphins and he can't help it as his grin engulfs his entire face. His face hurts and he can't give three fucks about that either.
He just is at the moment and that's enough for him.
Fiona might think he's a headcase now.
(Ian thinks she might be right)
Ian can't break because he doesn't have that liberty.
It's how it was, how it is and how it always will be.
Mickey doesn't notice at first that something is off about Gallagher because he hasn't spoken to him after Ian confronted him on the rooftop post them being caught by Terry and he likes to keep it that way.
But after Gallagher confronts him about the wedding and about Mickey loving him, Mickey panics, jumps on Gallagher and zones out as his fists do the talking for him.
He stops when he notices that Gallagher is just lying there, taking hit after hit with a blank look on his face.
Mickey thinks that Gallagher is a lot of things, but a bitch that takes a hit lying down isn't one of them. So he stops and looks at Ian's face and notices that the blank look is still present. He taps his cheeks a couple of times before giving it a good slap.
Ian's expression doesn't change. It's like he's not there or he's shut down.
Before he full on freaks out, Mickey takes off because the sight of Gallagher's blank face and the bubbling guilt building in his gut because of the fact that the forming bruises on the Ginger's face are his doing are making his stomach roll.
He runs and doesn't look back.
Ian blinks a couple of times, stands up and walks home. He feels happy and he doesn't know why.
He gets home and Fiona asks about his face and he has no answer to give her.
He feels happy and doesn't know why. He has cuts on his face and he doesn't know why.
Ian doesn't even care anymore.
Ian can't break because he doesn't have that liberty.
It's how it was, how it is and how it always will be.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first ever fanfiction so please be gentle! Other than that, this story is un-betad and this is me announcing that I am looking for a beta partner! So if there is anybody out there who would like to help me with this, I'd be forever gratefulJ! Send me a message if you're interested!
Other than that please READ AND REVIEW! It's the fuel that's needed to keep the story going as well as constructive criticism is always welcome! J
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Hope you enjoyed it!
