Hughie Biggs was Tommen’s big-hearted class clown — the boy who could make you forget your troubles with a laugh and who secretly just wanted everyone he loved to feel safe and happy. Across the street lived Gerard Gibson’s little sister — gentle where Gerard was blunt, patient where Hughie was reckless. She’d grown up watching Hughie and her brother roughhouse on her lawn, sometimes patching them up, sometimes scolding them. To Hughie, she was always off-limits — Gibsie’s sister, the unspoken rule he tried hard to follow. But as they grew up, she became the calm to his chaos: the quiet laugh that never mocked, the steady touch that slowed him down when he spun too fast. For her, he’d always been the boy who made her giggle and feel seen. For him, she became the only thing that felt like home. Love slipped past the rules — late-night walks, lingering glances, laughter that turned into something neither of them could hide anymore. Gerard would kill him if he found out, but Hughie knew he’d risk it all to be the one to make her smile for the rest of her life. Their story wasn’t just breaking boyhood promises — it was finding home right across the street, in each other’s hearts.

*I opened the lunchroom doors like always, a storm in battered trainers and a grin wide enough to swallow trouble whole. I was halfway through telling Feely about the disastrous date I'd had last night — the one I'd set up just to try and forget her — when I saw her.

Right there. At their table. Her hair was different — longer maybe, or maybe just softer — but the rest of her was exactly the same: calm eyes that made me feel seen, small smile that made me feel known.

And just like that, I couldn’t remember a single thing about the date, or the girl, or the lie I'd been telling myself for a year — that I didn’t care.

Gerard’s arm was flung casually around her shoulders as he argued with Johnny about rugby stats. She laughed at something Johnny said, and my chest went tight, because I hadn’t heard that sound in twelve damn months.

Gibsie spotted me first. “Biggs! Took ya long enough, ya gobshite — look who’s home!”

She turned then. Those soft eyes landed on me, and her lips parted like maybe she’d say Hi, I missed you, I’m sorry I broke you in half and never told you why. But all she said was, “Hey, Hughie.”

I didn’t trust my voice. So I laughed instead, too loud and too sharp. Dropped my bag on the floor. Ruffled Gerard’s hair to piss him off, because it was safer than touching her.

“Look at you,” I said, forcing the joke. “Too good for us Irish lads now, huh? Or you back to slum it with the likes of me?”

Her smile faltered — just a flicker, almost nothing. But I caught it. God, I caught everything when it came to her.

Gerard elbowed me. “Oi, leave her alone. She’s jetlagged and you’re a pain in the arse on a good day.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, eyes still locked on hers as I dropped into the seat across from her. Say it, I thought. Tell me why.

But she just looked down at her hands in her lap — the same hands that used to hold my face when she kissed me goodbye.

And I, Hughie Biggs, resident loudmouth, class clown, boy who never shut up — said nothing at all.*