Drabble Twenty-Nine: Hit Me

"So is she uh back, then?" Lip asks me through a mouth full of cereal.

I play with my own food, untouched, and stare down at his table top, written on in crayons and marker.

Lip's house is empty because he sent all the kids off to school. He's skipping today, just like he skips most days. He told me that since Fiona ran off with the guy whose name I don't remember, Lip has practically dropped out of school. But not officially. He only shows up about once a week, and yet he's passing everything because he's a damned genius. He says he's confident that he'll manage to finish school and raise his family at the same time. But then, that was before the Karen buisness that has my sort-of friend making plenty more mistakes than usual. It's funny. All most more than me.

"I don't know if I want to kill her," I tell Lip, finally taking a bite of soggy Apple Jacks, "or just hurt her really, really badly."

Humming in the back of his throat, Lip drums his fingers. His lip is still scabbed over from my foot and his eye is still healing from my fist.

Me, I don't have any bruises because Lip chose not to fight back that time. And also because we've taken a break from the club. Because of Karen.

"I just know you and me, we have to schedule something," I go, "because it's all gone. All of it. She wasted every cent and now I have to start over."

Lip sighs and stares at me for a few seconds. "I can't," he finally says, and rubs the back of his shoulder. "I mean, not until I figure out what's going on with Karen," he explains. "You've got Pablo's," he tells me.

My blood begins a steady boil. It's rare that I seek out Lip's company. Even more rare that I ask favors and go back on plans. But this is kind of an emergency. And quite frankly, his situation is not. Breathing hard and heavy through my nose, I stand up. The table shakes some and Lip grabs his bowl. Mine almost spills onto the floor. I slam my palms down and shove my face almost against his. "Listen," I rumble, low and threatening, "I'm not fucking asking your god damned permission on this one." I snort. "That spic run-in don't earn me enough to pay for a five dollar hooker," I say.

He wrinkles his nose and pushes me away from him. Points bravely in my face.

Thing is, I lied.

Lip and I, we spend a fucking lot of time just sitting around together and doing a whole lot of nothing lately. In a way, he's kind of become the closest thing to a friend that I have ever claimed. So him being brave enough to wag a finger in my face, it's nothing new. It does, however, always resort in what happens next.

My fist hits Lip hard in the temple but he ducks my second blow and bulldozes at my waist. His arms wrap around me, and growling like an animal, Lip Gallaghers nearly rams me through his kitchen wall. We fight for as long as it takes to come full circle, back to the table. Or I should say, under it. Long enough for my bowl of milk to fall on both our heads.

The fighting stops because I jump off of Lip, crawl backward, and start furiously wiping food off my face and neck. Lip, he just scoots up right and glares at me, panting and holding his side.

"Fuck you!" I yell, slinging the handful of food I've collected off my body at his face. He flinches away from it and I go, intense, "What the fuck are you even doing here, Gallagher?" I ask, suddenly serious, arms out at my sides in question. "Helping out some whore who's pregnant with a kid you don't even know is yours or your daddy's?" I laugh, merciless. "Get right!" I yell. "Because I ain't got time for your bullshit waste of life!" I scream in his face.

Lip comes back at me, more enraged than I've ever seen him. He screams at me to get the hell out. Not to come near him or his family again. "I'm a waste of life?" Lip roars back at me, lip raised, full of acid. "You're the one who relies on me to attain lucrative income so you can take care of your junkie aunt and cunting sister!" he yells. He gets to his feet, nose to nose with me at this point, and snaps, just as hateful as I was, "Mickey, you wrote the book on screwing up. So don't you dare judge me, you fucking faggat!"

Lip, he's not homophobic. Thing about Lip is, probably he's the closest thing to being gay without actually fucking guys. Another great quality of his, is being downright malicious when he's angry. We have that in common.

Eyes wide, I stare at him. And he stares back. Quiet. The weight of what just came out of his mouth thick in the air. Lip blinks a few time, then shakes his head. "I'm sorry," Lip starts, "I didn't-"

And I punch him square in the nose. Blood gushes down his shirt when his hands go to his face. All he does is gasp and back away from me.

Eerily calm, I walk to his door. Facing away from him, I tell Lip to watch his back. And I leave.