i hate you » carl gallagher

twenty-four - i hate you

noel

We had fallen asleep in eachothers arms. I woke up with his arms around my waist and his head in the crook of my neck.

I slowly crawled out of Carl's bed, sure not to wake him up, and headed downstairs. I checked the time on my phone and it read 12:46 pm. I decided to make us both some lunch and checked to see if the Gallagher's had anything in their fridge.

Suprisingly, they did. They had a ton to make and eat. I can't remember the last time their fridge was this full, I guess Fiona really was doing well at Patsy's.

I pulled out the jelly and grapes and then I found the bread and peanut butter and began making sandwiches.

"What'd you leave bed for? I was comfortable," Carl groaned as he walked down the stairs, startling me.

"You scared me," I said as I rested my hand on my chest.

"Sorry, babe," he smirked, sitting himself down at the counter across from me.

"It's okay. Want a sandwich," I asked him. He nodded his head slighty and I began making him a sandwich as well. "How are you feeling?"

"A lot better," he said. "How about you?"

"Yeah, me too," I said. "But, um, there's something I still have to tell you." I put both of the lids to the jars back on the peanut butter and jelly and put them back in their places. I handed Carl his plate and took a small bite out of my sandwich.

"You gonna tell me or what," he asked, throwing a grape in the air and catching it in his mouth.

"I'm going back to Florida," I blurted out.

"As like a vacation," he asked, the tone of his voice unchanged. He picked up his sandwich and took a bite.

"If that's what you want to call it," I said. "My grandma is sick. Really sick. Like, deadly. I'm leaving Monday and I don't know when I'll be back." Carl slowly set his sandwich back down on his plate.

"If you had to guess, how long would you be there for," he asked. I could hear the worry in his voice.

"Months," I stated. "She doesn't have much longer to live. When she passes we have to do the funeral and get rid of all her shit. Depending on who she leaves the house to..."

"She isn't leaving the house to your dad is she," he asked in a panicked voice. "Because you're not leaving me."

"I don't know, Carl. Even if she does, I don't know what my dad will want to do," I told him. "I'll be back for sure within a couple of months, but I don't know if I'll be back for good or to pack the rest of my shit up."

There was a long moment of silence. Carl was staring down at his feet, slowly shaking his head.

"Fuck you," I heard him mumble under his breath.

"What," I asked, my stomach turning.

"Fuck you," he half yelled. "You come back, make me happy again just to fucking leave me for who knows how the hell long?"

"You're seriously pissed at me for something this stu-" I tried to speak, but he just interrupted me.

"Just fucking leave," he yelled. "I can't deal with this shit right now!" He ran up the stairs, leaving me there shocked at his words and actions. Then, he came back down and threw my coat at me. "Go, now!"

"Are you fucking kidding me," I yelled at him, picking my coat up off of the ground. "It's not my fault I'm leaving! I don't have a choice!"

"I'm fucking serious, Noel. Fucking leave, now. Fucking hate you," he mumbled those last three words so low, I thought that I was just mishearing him.