. 001. Mandy Milkovich . - Tumblr Posts
ripped nylons and stolen skirts, scuffed black, leather boots that she'd been duct - taping and painting black just to pretend the soles were new — painted nails tug at the seams as she takes in the noise of the gallagher house as just that — noise. much more preferable to the noise at home, where the glass shattering was the result of a shady visit to a neighborhood clinic instead of one of his siblings dropping a dish in the sink. there was dysfunctional and there were the milkoviches, and mandy wanted what they had. pried into the small opening of space that'd hardly existed for her, nestling deep enough that it'd prove more work to remove her than letting be.
the question left her lips the way smoke burns, charred and strained. couldn't look at him, not out of fear or guilt but rather shame or the mortifying ordeal of simply being perceived. she didn't want to be weak. she'd considering taking those words back until he nudged her, short huff emitting through and pale, viridescents find themselves meeting icy blues. the cold of the winters that'd passed by now. “ there's this stupid club i want to get into. the like, the kind where they blow smoke up each other's asses an' shit. ” toe of her boot kicked at a small rock over the cracked, aged cement. “ i think they're stupid as fuck and i'd rather eat glass than associate with 'em but i made a bet with mickey an' he's being an asshole about it. ” there was a brief pause before she added, “ i have to ... write shit, do interviews. dress ... not like this. ”
✉ → "if i ask for your help, are you gonna make a big deal about it?" / @leventar
the question is so out of this fucking world that the inhale on his cigarette is stopped mid - drag, the smoke congesting his throat on its destructive path to his lungs.
"you wanna ask for help? shiiit."
plucking the cigarette from between his lips, his mouth curls as he exhales and blue eyes squint against the afternoon sun. the cherry - red tip is pressed against the wood of the step that they sit on outside of his house to join the rest of the scorched marks, the rare warm early spring chicago day tempting them to the front porch. voices leak from underneath the front door, the typical yelling that always exists in different contexts, and he rests his elbows against his bent knees.
"is it illegal shit? if so, how illegal?"
the question needs to be asked. it's said so casually that it's like the words are rehearsed in that exact order, repeated in several conversations. he nudges her with his elbow, ducking his head down to meet her averted downward gaze.
"hey, i'm fuckin' joking. only a little though. what's up?"
she knew he was looking at her, stared at him just as he stared at her but it was different here, in the way it shoved through the back of her spine and grabbed her, rattling her. vowed never to let another person affect her so deeply but lip fuckin' gallagher had slipped through the cracks, snaked into the confines of a tightly wound, strictly guarded prison, and infected her. this feeling was a disease, it would rot her from the inside out more than the cigarettes she kissed and she would let it.
skepticism in her gaze, brows furrowing when she caught that twitch of his lips — he thought she was stupid, he thought — “ hey ! don't fuckin' laugh, asshole. ” huffing and puffing, faux annoyance in her tone, the insecurity creeping. cared little for what he thought and yet cared so, so much it could eat her alive. teetered between the edge of fight or flight, tell him to forget everything. would he go running his mouth off to the next person that would listen for it ? word traveled fast in a shit town with nothing to look forward to.
lips pursed, as if she meant to ponder on his offer, as if she hadn't already borrowed a number of designer brands from the next town up. probably better not to get caught in them. “ she doesn't like me. ” was the first thing out of her mouth, not a pout but a statement of facts. “ sure she'd want someone like me gettin' all up in her shit ? ” brow lifted, free hand reaching out to grab him by the chin to face her. never learned personal boundaries, never learned space. affection in the form of hostility. “ not that i'm denyin', just sayin' ... i need to write like, four essays. some bullshit prompts an' shit about myself. sounds a lot like beggin' like a desperate freak. ” ivories bit down on her bottom lip as she glanced at his. “ 's a club pretty girls. smart girls. with money. networkin' and all that. ”
ground feels cold where he sits as hell freezes over. blinks at the brunette with a vibrant color streaked in her dark hair, replaying the way her lips move in his head to end with the conclusion that he's heard her correctly. mandy and his relationship is surface level in some ways, deep in others, all twisted and upside down. his life never has him feeling steady in his decisions, in his day - to - day, in every step he takes. the two of them together increases that, two unpredictable last names colliding and people crossing the street when they grow near. just out of caution. his thin lips quirk in an amused smile, stifled in the same way his chuckle is. loud noises scare the skittish cat.
"what kind of club?" it's a better alternative to the question that he almost asks: 'you? in a club?'
pries for information, sees the words that catch in her throat and are swallowed to burn in the acid that lays in the pits of her stomach. it's where most of her true thoughts go to die, he's learned. something about the damn milkoviches makes them rather choke than express. knows her too well, but barely through verbalized declarations, and more through his observations of what she places carefully between the lines. there's no bet with mickey, he'd put his next water bill on it. careful to keep his tone casual, his posture straightens and curves as he stretches his spine with his fingers clasped behind his head.
"you'd prob'ly fit into fi's clothes," he offers, his shoulders bobbing with a shrug as he slumps back against the wooden step. "she's always doin' interviews and shit 'cause she can't hold a goddamn job. could swipe some for 'ya when she leaves for work."
“ you might as well have. i know you, lip gallagher. no use fooling me. ” faux - chastisement in her tone, hardly doing a proper job of maintaining that pout, eventually overrun with the presence of a smile, poorly hidden. she would laugh too, if she heard herself and the way she spoke of escaping south side as if it were a trap meant to imprison them for a lifetime. in a way, it was. at its core, it was. the lot of them held down, raised to live the way previous generations did, set up for failure. she knew the way everyone looked at her and her family in particular, her father had practically had a deal with the devil to keep him and his offspring tethered. but she needed out. dreamt of an out for as long as she could remember, knowing the effort was futile, knowing it would never come to fruition. she lacked the education, the finesse, even the illusion of being remotely able to fit into the other side of the world. but she could have a little fun with it at the very least. mandy didn't believe in luck, but maybe for once, it would stick.
he nudged her again and she huffed, this time fully obvious in her lightheartedness. “ that's fine and all, i just don't want her to project the frustration towards you onto me. you know ? she'll see me prancin' around her nice shit and she's gonna absolutely lose it. skanky mandy broke into precious fiona's wardrobe. she'll have to burn it. ” vivid with her words, paired with half - effort hand gestures, tone mocking as she imitated how the whispers would spread. not that she wasn't used to it, but fiona was the last person she wanted to piss off. something about wanting the approval of an older sister, wanting to be accepted, wanting to be wanted.
she couldn't resist the gasp as he bit into her palm, yet she made no effort to move, blood rushing to her cheeks as the sharpness was replaced with a kiss. removing her grip, she slid her hand down his chest, to rest on his lap. always needing that physical contact. regardless of what it was. however subtle or obvious. free hand reached into her back pocket to pull out her own, shaking it to emphasize its fullness. “ good thing i swiped this earlier, you're welcome. ” held between two fingers, vaguely in his direction for him to take.
soft hum of thought left her lips at his inquiry. shoulders shrugged. “ i'm not. it's a bet. ” she pressed for the lie, though it wasn't so much of a lie but a half - truth. mickey couldn't give less of a shit about what she did, just made some remark about it being a waste of fuckin' time, and that was it. and then she got spiteful, determined. “ i was just curious. y'know ? like, what it'd be like to give a shit about something like that. we know they'll take one look at me and smell the white trash reekin' off of me, but — whatever. ” sparing him a glance, “ yeah. i'd need the help. the highest grade i ever got was a c minus. fuckin' embarassing, right ? ”
"i didn't laugh, mandy."
but who can blame him if he did? not to mock, but an expression of genuine surprise. one part of this pairing has sat awake and thought about getting out of this shitty town, while the other calls it home. the former is the one stammering around the truth with risen hackles, the latter the one who has the ability to do so seamlessly but doesn't dream of it. south side is nothing to froth at the mouth about, gang and individual violence, blood staining worn down street and sprayed away the next morning, locking car doors even if leaving for less than five minutes. lip is acutely aware of all of this, and mandy is acutely aware of how stupid he is for ignoring it for the sake of familiarity. it doesn't surprise him that she's chasing dreams, dreams called as such because they never have to be said aloud, but the method in which she's going about it is what curves his lips.
"hey," he nudges again, but this time doesn't have to duck his head to force her attention on him. "i didn't laugh at you."
his sister's opinion doesn't influence his life. the mother figure of them all, but less so to lip, who has always been similar in age enough to hold his own. below the age of ten isn't what would normally be considered sustainable or independent, but it's the gallagher way. a triage.
"that's why i'd do it. not gonna say shit to me."
her outright refusal, though broken up with meaningless thought, doesn't shake him. fiona disliking her didn't add up, an equation that didn't make sense, worse holding itself higher than worst. reaches in his pocket and pulls out his pack of cigarettes, sticking one between his lips only to click his lighter and find no spark. out of fluid.
"fuck," he murmurs around the stick, shaking the lighter to no effect.
removes it from his mouth, turns his attention back just as his face is grabbed. a smile does break loose this time, turning his head to combat the aggression with his teeth closing around her palm, lips immediately following to press against the same spot.
"why're you even interested in something like that?" not judgment, just genuine curiosity, throwing the illusion of an imaginary bet out of the confusing formula. "lots of shit like that makes you do bullshit work. you need help writing the essays?"