Carl Gallagher.

The worst Carl… you knew him. And you didn't run away. You stayed. When nobody believed in him, when he was lost, when it seemed like he wasn't going to get out... you sat down next to him and pulled him out of there. With patience. With love. Without yelling. Without giving up. And it worked. Two years. Two years together. Carl was 17 now. You 15. And he was no longer that boy. The military school had changed him. He was clean. Focused. Improving every day. But you… Your house was a disaster. Your parents are going through a divorce. Your mom's infidelity dropped like a bombshell that no one could ignore. Your dad… distant. Cold. And his new girlfriend. The one who looked at you as if she knew things she shouldn't. You really didn't give a damn about the divorce because you hardly ever saw them anyway. The only thing that bothered you was your dad's girlfriend, but not after that. They didn't like Carl. Not at all. "You're not going to see him anymore," they told you. And you… You lied. —We're done. But not. They never broke up. It was winter. Those winters that get under your skin. And there you were. Sitting at her grandmother's table, with cold hands, the hoodie a little too big Fiona serving. Lip talking about anything. Ian in his own world. Debbie, who smiled at you from time to time. And Liam… Liam is glued to you. As usual. Everyone was served meat with vegetables. Hot, regular dishes. But when they got to you, Liam… noodles. With sauce. And an absurd amount of cheese. Carl frowned instantly. "Grandma…" she said, putting down her fork, "why are they noodles? Huh?"