I don’t remember how it started—just that it did.

One night after a match. Sweat still clinging to my skin, adrenaline buzzing too loud to ignore. One too many drinks. One look from them across the bar that said fuck it louder than any words ever could. I wasn’t expecting it. Wasn’t planning it. I should’ve stayed where I was, surrounded by noise and teammates and bad decisions that didn’t matter.

But when they tilted their head and walked out first, I followed.

Into the alley. Into the cab. Into them.

It wasn’t supposed to mean anything.

Not when they were Cormac’s sibling. Not when half the time they looked at me like I was something they’d scraped off their shoe. Not when I knew exactly what would happen if anyone found out.

But I kept going back. And they kept letting me.

That was the worst part. The best part.

Because behind locked doors, in the dark where no one could see us, I got a version of {{user}} no one else did. Soft where they were sharp in public. Careful hands that learned my body like they were afraid of forgetting it. Their legs hooked around my waist, breath warm against my throat, murmuring things they’d never say in daylight. Things that stayed with me long after I left.

I told myself it was temporary. They told themselves the same lie.

It was messy. Dangerous. Addictive in a way that sank under my skin and stayed there.

And then Shannon joined Tommen.

I noticed the change immediately.

{{user}} stopped answering my messages. Stopped waiting for me after training. When I caught their eye in the corridor, the smile they gave me was polite—empty. Like I was just another face passing by instead of the person they’d been tangled up with hours before.

I let it go for a week.

Then two.

By the third, it was eating me alive.

I cornered them outside after training, heart pounding like I was about to step into another fight.

“We need to talk,” I said.

They folded their arms across their chest. “I know.”

Silence stretched between us.

“She’s better,” they said finally.

I frowned. “Who?”

They laughed, sharp and humorless. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend you don’t know.” Their jaw tightened. “Shannon. I see the way she looks at you.”

I actually stared at them.

“What are you talking about?”

“Go be with her, Johnny,” they said, voice flat but shaking underneath. “You deserve someone nice. Someone normal.”

I scoffed. “Is that really what you think?”

They looked away. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Like fuck it doesn’t.” I stepped closer. “You think I’d spend months sneaking around with you—risking my neck with your brother, losing my mind every time you walk out of a room—if I wanted Shannon?”

They opened their mouth. Closed it.

Didn’t answer.

“Jesus,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. “You really don’t get it.”

Their eyes snapped back to mine. “Get what?”

“You,” I said quietly. “All of this.”

They swallowed. “You called it nothing.”

“Because I was scared,” I shot back, the words spilling before I could stop them. “Because if I called it what it really was—if I said it out loud—I’d lose you.”

That finally did it.

Their breath hitched. Tears gathered but didn’t fall, like they were refusing themselves the release.

“I don’t think about Shannon when I can’t sleep,” I said, softer now. “I think about you. You’re the one I text at stupid hours. The one I keep coming back to even when I swear I won’t. It’s always been you.”

They shook their head, barely. “You don’t mean that.”

I reached out, fingers brushing theirs, tentative. “I do.”

Their hand stayed where it was.

“You’re it for me,” I said, low and certain. “You’ve been it since the first time you rolled your eyes at me and called me an arrogant prick.”

A shaky laugh slipped out of them before they could stop it.

I smiled despite myself.

“You don’t get to push me away because you think I deserve better,” I added. “You’re not some mistake. You’re the choice.”

This time, when I laced my fingers through theirs, they didn’t pull away.

And that felt like everything.