2114 North Wallace Street.
Bianca wasn't an expert on mental health, but after seeing Ian, she offered some advice.
The core takeaway was simple: Ian needed to be hospitalized and receive professional treatment as soon as possible. And this decision had to be made by his family, not Ian.
Because with bipolar disorder in full swing, Ian wasn't in his right mind.
A person who isn't in their right mind cannot make rational decisions.
This wasn't the time for democracy.
Bianca explained this very earnestly.
Fiona and Lip listened quietly. As for whether they would follow her advice or how they would handle it...
Heh.
Who could ever predict what the Gallaghers would do?
Bianca wasn't particularly close to Fiona or the others. After saying what needed to be said, she didn't waste words and obediently sat back down next to Dexter.
Dexter had zero interest in soaking up any more of this signature Gallagher gloom. He exchanged a few polite pleasantries, then signaled Bianca, and got up to leave.
"Carl, if Ian goes to the hospital, it'll probably cost a lot. If you're short on cash, call me," Dexter said to Carl as he stood up.
Carl didn't have any weird hang-ups about pride. He nodded directly. "Okay."
"We're off then," Dexter said his goodbyes.
Hearing this.
Fiona bit her lip. "I'll walk you out."
Dexter smiled faintly and didn't object.
A moment later, the two got into the car.
Through the window, Bianca glanced back toward where Ian was. "Bipolar disorder is a lifelong thing. It's really tough for them."
Dexter glanced at Bianca with a smile.
It was probably time to start researching Bianca's impending cancer, too.
"From what I know, it's manageable. If he cooperates with treatment, Ian can still have a somewhat normal life."
Chatting, the two drove home.
---
2114 North Wallace Street.
The four Gallaghers continued their discussion.
In this agonizing debate, time flew by.
Before they knew it, it was past 9 PM.
They reached a preliminary conclusion.
Fiona went into Ian's room, spoke to him softly, then gently carried him out on her back and placed him in Peggy's wheelchair.
A few minutes later.
Eyes red, Fiona pushed the wheelchair toward the Gallagher house. In the chair sat Ian, eyes hollow, looking like an empty shell.
Lip, leaning on his crutches with a cigarette dangling from his lips, followed silently, struggling to keep up.
Carl, straining slightly under the weight of Ian's luggage, walked beside the wheelchair, glancing worriedly at Ian every now and then.
None of the three spoke. They just walked silently, as if marching toward another, deeper valley in their lives.
Arriving at the Gallagher house—which felt cold and desolate compared to the chaos of the past—Fiona struggled again. Sweating profusely, she carried Ian up to the second floor and laid him on his bed.
Ian remained silent the entire time.
Looking at him, Fiona felt a wave of heartbreak and sorrow so strong she wanted to cry.
After settling Ian in and saying a few words to him, she silently left the room and went back downstairs.
Carl didn't leave immediately; he sat on the sofa.
Lip sat there too, chain-smoking like he couldn't stop.
Exhausted, Fiona collapsed onto the sofa next to Lip. She reached out, took the cigarette from his fingers, took a deep drag, and then laughed despairingly. "Gallaghers~~"
Lip glanced at her, said nothing, lit another cigarette, and kept smoking.
The smoke drifted around them, like a shroud of death enveloping Fiona and Lip.
Carl blinked, staring blankly at the two of them. Emotions he rarely felt began to surge in his chest.
---
2118 North Wallace Street.
Ian's bipolar disorder had long vanished from Dexter and Bianca's conversation.
Currently, the two were sitting on the sofa watching TV.
To be precise... Bianca was watching TV, while Dexter was on his laptop, browsing uniforms.
Dexter was a bit spoiled for choice. There was just so much variety—everything imaginable. It was exciting.
The laptop screen was right in front of her; of course, Bianca saw it. Helplessly, her ears turned red.
Finally, Bianca couldn't take it anymore. "I'm not wearing that stuff! If you buy it, you wear it yourself!"
Dexter turned and grinned mischievously at her.
Bianca: "..."
A few minutes later.
Bianca looked away, but pointed a finger at a uniform on the screen. Dexter immediately added it to the cart.
Women who say no but mean yes.
How interesting.
---
Deep into the night.
On the quiet North Wallace Street, a truck appeared.
The truck moved slowly and stopped in front of the Gallagher house.
"I'm home!" Looking through the window at the familiar dilapidated house, Monica beamed brilliantly and said to the driver. She pushed the door open. "Thanks. See you around."
The driver chuckled and nodded, not saying much.
Picking up Monica on the road, sleeping with her, enjoying her mouth—it passed the boredom of the road. To the driver, that was Monica's only purpose.
So, there was no "see you around."
Monica hopped out of the truck with a giggle.
The truck started up again and slowly drove away.
Suitcase in hand, Monica faced the dark Gallagher house, took a deep breath, and strode toward the door.
Knock, knock, knock.
A knock on the door in the dead of night is rarely good news.
Startled awake, Fiona frowned immediately. She listened carefully, confirmed someone was knocking on their door, and got out of bed with a face full of worry. She went downstairs, grabbing the baseball bat hanging on the stairwell wall on her way.
Reaching the door.
"Who is it?" Fiona gripped the bat tighter, her tone serious.
"Fiona, it's me! I'm back!" Monica recognized Fiona's voice instantly and shouted excitedly.
Hearing the voice.
Thump.
Fiona's heart clenched. Instinctively, she felt a flicker of joy, but simultaneously, a conflicting, heavier wave of worry washed over her.
At the same time.
Upstairs, Lip, woken by the knocking, frowned deeply. He looked over at Ian and cursed under his breath.
Fxxk!
Ian's eyes were open. Knowing Monica was back, he actually felt a spark of happiness.
The reason was simple.
Monica had lived with bipolar disorder for so many years... Ian didn't want to go on like this. He wanted to talk to Monica. He wanted her advice...
In Ian's eyes, Monica was his own kind. Fiona and Lip were not.
But Ian didn't move. He didn't have the strength. He just lay there, eyes open, waiting.
Downstairs.
Fiona stood in silence. Honestly, she really didn't want to open the door.
"Fiona, come on, open up," Monica urged.
One second, two seconds, three seconds...
Her weak nature, combined with a lingering attachment to her mother, won out. Fiona reached out and opened the door.
The door swung open.
Fiona stood there, her expression slightly twisted. Monica didn't hesitate. With a beaming smile, she spread her arms and stepped forward to hug Fiona.
"Oh~ Fiona..." Monica said excitedly.
Fiona immediately took two steps back, rejecting the hug. "Why did you come back?"