Shane pretended to rub his temples, smoothly rolling out the excuse he'd prepared.
"I didn't shut the door all the way last night. Draft must've given me a headache. Had some weird-ass nightmares because of it. I'm good now, though."
Lip gave him a once-over. Shane's face had color, his eyes weren't pinned or dilated like a junkie's.
He didn't look high, and to be fair, Shane wasn't exactly known for wilding out like that. Lip bought it, clapping a hand on Shane's shoulder.
"Alright, good. Just checking. If anything's up, you tell me or Ian, yeah? We got you."
Shane nodded, feeling a weird mix of emotions.
As Lip spoke, another fragment of memory clicked into place:
Him, Lip, and Ian, back-to-back, surrounded by a group of high school thugs. Fists flying... he couldn't remember why they were fighting, but they were in it together.
That matched the flash he saw when he first woke up.
Shane looked out the window at the gray Chicago sky, then back at the table... Carl was still a kid, Liam couldn't talk yet...
So, we're in Season 1? Or close to it.
While he was thinking, more details surfaced:
He and Lip were the brains of the family.
They both made extra cash doing homework and taking tests for the dimmer students at school.
Wait. The money I used to buy the noodles... The system locked onto the cash I "possessed." But how broad is that definition?
Does it have to be in my pocket? Does it count if I steal it? What if I just touch it?
Before he could spiral down that rabbit hole, Fiona's voice cut through his thoughts.
"Lip! Or somebody! Get those noodles over here, water's boiling!"
"Okay, okay. I got it."
Shane grabbed the cups and brought them over.
Fiona took them, ripping off the lids and dumping the noodle blocks into the pot of boiling water. In the brief moment of quiet near the stove, she leaned in, lowering her voice.
"Shane, honey, you really okay? You scared the hell out of me earlier. It was like looking at a stranger."
Her eyes were full of that intense, big-sister worry. "You tell me if something's wrong, okay? I'm your sister. We're Gallaghers. We stick together."
Shane looked at her. She looked tired—way older than her years—but there was that undeniable, gritty beauty.
This was Fiona Gallagher. The one who carried the whole world on her shoulders and usually forgot to save anything for herself.
He nodded slowly, feeling a pang of sympathy.
"I will, Fiona. Promise."
Fiona felt a little awkward under his intense gaze and nudged him with her elbow.
"Why are you staring? Help me open these flavor packets. You're acting weird today. Come on, I gotta get to work, and you guys have school!"
"Oh, right. Yeah." Shane snapped out of it, grabbing the rest of the packets.
Powder flew into the air, mixing with the steam. The cheap, salty, savory smell of beef flavoring began to fill the chaotic living room.
---
The Gallaghers inhaled the noodles like a pack of wolves. The table finally settled into the quiet satisfaction of full bellies.
Then, Debbie, licking her fork, asked innocently:
"Where's Frank? I haven't seen him in... like, three days."
Fiona paused while stacking plates, not even looking up. Her tone was completely unfazed.
"Probably passed out behind some bar. Don't worry about it, Debs. He'll come crawling back when he runs out of money."
Lip let out a scoff.
"Seconded. Probably sleeping in a dumpster dreaming he's a millionaire."
Ian: "Thirded."
A few minutes later, breakfast was officially over. Fiona switched into General mode, barking out orders.
"I'm at Patsy's this morning, then helping out at the club tonight. Who's watching Liam this afternoon?"
Lip raised his hand immediately. "I got a gig. Taking a test for someone on the south side. Pays good."
Ian buttoned his shirt. "ROTC drill, then straight to the grocery store."
Everyone looked at Shane.
He did a quick mental check. His schedule for the day was just filler classes and PE, which he could easily skip.
Shane raised his hand, putting on a tired face.
"I got him... I'm still feeling a little off. Dizzy. Since I don't have much going on at school, I'll just stay home and watch Liam."
Fiona checked his face again. He looked better than before, so she nodded.
"Okay. But if you feel weird, call me immediately, understand?"
She pointed to the ancient landline on the wall.
"Yes, ma'am, Fiona."
Fiona lifted Liam out of his high chair and carefully handed him to Shane.
The toddler smelled like baby powder and beef noodles. He felt warm and soft against Shane's chest.
Shane looked down at Liam. He was actually cuter than on TV.
Who would've thought... a black baby from two white parents like Frank and Monica. Only Frank could pull that off.
After a whirlwind of finding backpacks, putting on shoes, and yelling at each other to hurry up, the front door slammed shut. Bang.
The footsteps faded away. The house fell silent, leaving only the hum of the refrigerator and Liam's soft babbling.
Shane's face—the mask he'd been wearing since he left the basement—finally dropped.
He didn't move. He just sat there at the table, holding Liam.
The shock he'd suppressed with adrenaline and noise came flooding back.
He looked around: The greasy table with noodle stains reflecting the light.
The pile of unwashed laundry in the corner.
The unfamiliar street outside the window.
The real, breathing baby in his arms.
"Holy sht..."
"Fck me... I actually transmigrated?!"
It wasn't a dream. It wasn't a hallucination.
He was Shane. A soul from another world, now fused with a teenage Shane Gallagher.
Damn it. I knew I shouldn't have bought that used power supply unit.
Shane sat there, clutching his nominal little brother, and tried to process everything since he woke up.
The memories weren't fully downloaded yet. It was more like having access to a database.
He didn't have every detail—like what he ate yesterday or what exactly happened last week—unless something triggered it.
Seeing a person or hearing a phrase would pull the relevant file.
Like the fight memory.
Right now, he just had the general layout of the family dynamics.
But what was freaking him out more was what he did earlier. Why did he instinctively bring the noodles upstairs?