The Fault in Our Shooting Stars

Chapter 8: Decoding Delinquents

Gallavich AU: The Fault in Our Shooting Stars

Chapter Eight: Decoding Delinquents

That night I sat in my usual spot at our perfectly ordinary Gallagher dinner table with people shouting and Carl flicking his peas and Liam smashing his hands in his mashed potatoes. I couldn’t help staring at that spot in the kitchen, imagining the way his white knuckles had gripped the bench top while I was on my knees in front of him, remembering the sounds that had come out of his mouth.

I mean sure, we almost got caught by Jimmy but he’s mostly oblivious to anything that doesn’t involve Fiona, or lately, Liam.

But my lungs didn’t crap out on me and that’s probably the only decent thing they’ve ever done for me since diagnosis.

I must have been just picking at my food because when I snapped back to reality I caught Fiona’s worried gaze.

“Not hungry?” she asked over the general rumble of dinner conversation – if you could call it that.

“Oh, just, taking it slow, you know,” I said and she gave me a smile.

“I can make you something else?” she offered but I shook my head.

“No, Fiona, don’t worry about it. I’m just slow tonight, okay?”

She sighed a little and nodded.

It doesn’t matter how many times I say ‘don’t worry’ because she always will, just like it doesn’t matter how many times people ask if I’m okay because ultimately, I’m not.

I offered to clean up after dinner and Lip just grinned, pretending that he couldn’t hear Fiona when she yelled at him to help so she enlisted Carl to dry. He wasn’t too happy but he wiped the dishes with a scowl on his face anyway.

I scrubbed down the mashed potato pot, trying to get the blackened bits off the side. I have no idea what happened in this pot but I’m not sure I want to either.

Carl sighed loudly as he dried one of the dinner plates and I looked over at him with a smile.

“You got something on your mind Carl?” I asked.

“Got detention the rest of the week and I have to tell Fiona,” he grumbled.

“Ouch,” I said. “What did you do?”

“Punched a kid in the face,” he said, grinning a little.

“Okay, why?”

“Because he’s a douche,” he said and I laughed.

“That’s not a reason to deck someone Carl,” I said.

“You sound like my teacher,” he said.

“Yeah probably, but you know you should probably do that outside of school, then they can’t punish you.”

“They can’t?”

“I don’t think so, just find out which way they walk home and do it then. You know, so long as you’re a faster runner.”

“Cool,” he said, a plan clearly formulating in his head and I really hope Fiona doesn’t find out that I just told him that.

We finished up and I made my way to my room to finish reading a chapter of my latest book. I’m not usually a reader but these last five years I’ve needed something to do for hours at a time and we’re not exactly in the right socio-economic state to afford an iPad or some bullshit like that. Instead, Carl’s been stealing books from the library for me since this whole thing started.