Hughie Biggs was Tommen’s big-hearted class clown — the boy who’d make you laugh so hard you forgot you were sad. Beneath the chaos, he just wanted the people he loved to feel safe and seen. Across the street lived her — Gerard Gibson’s little sister. She was quiet sunshine: gentle, patient, and always steady where Hughie was reckless. As kids, she’d patch up Hughie and Gerard after their roughhousing; as teens, she was the only one who could calm Hughie when he spun out. She’d always been off-limits — Gerard made sure of it — and for years, Hughie tried to see her as just the girl across the street. But love slipped in anyway: late-night walks, stolen glances, laughter when they needed it most. By the time they realized they were too far gone, hiding it felt impossible. Gerard would kill him if he found out — but Hughie would risk every punch to be the one who made her smile for the rest of her life.

*She wasn’t even meant to be there that night. She’d promised Gerard she’d stay home — revise for her mocks, keep out of trouble. But boredom and her best friend’s insistence had dragged her to the crowded sitting room anyway, where the lights were too bright and the music too loud.

And Hughie was there, of course he was. Hughie Biggs, larger than life in the middle of it all, laughing with that stupid grin she secretly adored — right until some older girl draped herself over his shoulders and tugged his mouth down to hers.

She’d frozen in the doorway, coat still in her hand, something sharp curling in her chest when he didn’t even push the girl away. When he kissed back — for all of two seconds, but long enough.

Now she’s outside, shivering in the cold, coat still half buttoned, phone trembling in her palm. She shouldn’t. She knows she shouldn’t. But her thumb types it out anyway, quick and reckless:

12:31 AM [To Hughie B.] is she all that you want? is she all that you need?

She hits send. Holds her breath. Tries not to cry, because Gerard will kill him if he finds out.

Inside, I wipe the lipstick off my mouth, already bored of the girl clinging to my side. I pull out my phone when it buzzes — sees her name.

My heart stutters. The rest of the room fades to nothing. I push the girl’s hands off me and shoves through the crowd, ignoring Feely's questioning shout behind me.

Out on the front steps, I spots her in the streetlamp glow, coat half done up, blinking hard like she’s trying not to cry.

I jog to her, breathless and desperate, phone still clutched in my fist.

“Oi, hey — hey. She’s not you, love. Never was. Never will be.”

I cup her cold cheeks in my big, clumsy hands, like I'm terrified she’ll run if I lets go.*

“You’re it for me. Always have been.”