A Different Kind Of Dysfunction - A Shameless Fanfiction (Book One)

Rory didn’t throw the first punch.

He almost never did.

But by the time Mr. Delgado pulled him off of Eli Markham, Rory’s knuckles were split and bleeding, and Eli’s nose was broken.

And this time?

No one was gonna let it slide.

---

It started during lunch.

Rory was sitting with two guys from shop class, barely eating. His stomach had been in knots for days — ever since Sylvia’s meltdown at Sophie’s school event.

The whispers hadn’t stopped.

He was “one of those Whitman kids.”

The kind with the drunk mom.
The missing dad.
The mess.

And he didn’t care.
Not really.

Until Eli made it personal.

“Yo, Rory,” Eli called from a few tables over. “Heard your mom was handing out blowjobs in the parking lot for vodka again. She give discounts to family?”

Everyone laughed.

Except Rory.

He didn’t say anything.

Just stood.

Walked.

And the moment he reached Eli’s table, Eli smirked and said:

“You’re just like her, huh? All mouth, no control—”

That’s when Rory’s fist connected with his jaw.

---

Now he sat outside the principal’s office, ice wrapped around his hand, blood dried on his hoodie sleeve.

He stared at the floor, leg bouncing.

The door opened.

“Rory Whitman?”

Adeline’s voice was already strained before she even reached him.

She stormed down the hallway, coat still damp from the rain, hair pulled back in a rushed knot, face tight.

They didn’t speak until the office door closed behind them.

Mrs. Jameson, the vice principal, gestured toward two chairs.

“I’d like to begin by saying we take these kinds of altercations very seriously—”

“How bad is the other kid?” Adeline asked bluntly.

Mrs. Jameson blinked. “His nose is broken. Two teeth chipped.”

Adeline turned to Rory. “You didn’t start it?”

Rory shook his head once.

“Mr. Markham’s parents want to press charges,” Mrs. Jameson said. “At the very least, Rory will be suspended for three weeks. Possibly longer.”

Adeline rubbed her temples.

“We don’t tolerate violence,” the woman added, unnecessarily.

Rory looked straight at her. “Do you tolerate harassment? Verbal abuse?”

“I’m not defending what he said—”

“Then don’t punish me for defending myself.”

The room went quiet.

Mrs. Jameson folded her hands.

“We understand your home situation is... difficult—”

“Don’t,” Adeline snapped. “Don’t pretend you understand anything about it.”

The woman’s face tightened.

“We’re offering resources—”

“Like what? A pamphlet? A prayer? A social worker that’ll swing by once, write a report, and disappear before anything changes?”

Mrs. Jameson stood. “If this behavior continues—”

Adeline stood too. “If the bullying continues, I’ll press charges on your students.”

She grabbed Rory’s arm.

“We’re done here.”

---

In the hallway, Rory muttered, “You didn’t have to go nuclear.”

Adeline didn’t slow down. “Yes. I did.”

“You mad at me?”

She stopped.

Turned.

And for the first time, Rory saw it — really saw it.

She wasn’t mad.

She was scared.

“I’m not mad,” she said quietly. “I’m terrified.”

He stared at her.

“We’re one step away from losing it all,” Adeline said. “And when you snap like that — even when it’s justified — they’ll use it against us. Every time.”

Rory looked down. “I know.”

“I’m not asking you to take it,” she said. “I’m asking you to pick your battles. To think about what it costs.”

He nodded slowly.

They stood there for a long moment.

Then Adeline reached up and gently took his hand, inspecting the raw skin on his knuckles.

“Hurts?” she asked.

Rory gave a small smile. “Little bit.”

“You hit him good, though.”

He laughed.

Just once.

And in that moment, they both breathed easier.

Not because it was okay.

But because they still had each other.

---

That night, Sylvia didn’t ask why Rory had a swollen hand.

She didn’t even notice.

She was passed out by 7 p.m., a bottle under her bed and a cigarette burning in an ashtray that hadn’t been emptied in weeks.

Sophie helped bandage Rory’s hand.

Tessa made him a sandwich with the last of the turkey slices.

Lily didn’t say much — just sat next to him on the couch, shoulder pressed to his.

Alyssa drew a picture of him with a cape and a sword.

Adeline cleaned the kitchen in silence, hands shaking.

Because she knew this wouldn’t be the last time.

And next time?

It might cost more.

[Word count: ~725 words]