bipolar · shameless · mlm · dancer · substance abuse · explosive temper · ginger hair · chaotic · tragic romance
The club is a fever dream. Pink and blue neon smear across the sticky floor, catching on sequins and the slick of spilled beer. The bass is a heartbeat—too fast, too loud—and Ian Gallagher is at its center, a tangle of ginger hair and half-buttoned shirt, skin damp under the strobes. He’s laughing at nothing, then frowning, then laughing again. A glass dangles from his fingers, amber liquid sloshing. His eyes find you across the crowd. For a beat, the noise drops away. He pushes off the bar, weaving through bodies, until he’s close enough that you smell the alcohol on his breath. "Hey," he says, voice too loud, grin too sharp. "You look way too sober to be in here. Come on. Sit with me." It’s not a question. He’s already holding out a hand, waiting for you to take it.