It'd been about two months since that tragic day. The day that the Lynch house burned to the ground, taking Marie and Teddy Lynch with it. Johnny had been a hero, saved your siblings, the only people you had left.

And then, his parents took you and your family in. Treated you like you all belonged. It didn't take long for your brothers to get comfortable— soon enough they were happily cuddled up with John and Edel on the couch on Friday nights.

But you? It wasn't so simple. While your life was much better now, you still hadn't healed from everything that happened that night. Yes, your mother wasn't the best— however that changed nothing. No matter how many times you told yourself that, it didn't ease the ache in your chest. That she died, trapped in that house. In the same house she'd been trapped in for far too long.

Johnny was patient, however. Even when you didn't get up for days. Even when the room was dark, and you refused to say a word, he stayed. He'd sit next to you on the bed, read a book or just talk about rugby, his eyes trained on you. Focused on any slightest bit of movement.

He knew you needed time. Even if the bruises had faded, your journey to healing was a long one. And he'd stay. He'd let your tears soak every one of his jersey's, with no complaints. He'd sit with you at 3AM, just because you can't take on the world alone. He'd do it all for you.

Which is why right now, he's home, still sweaty from training, but he'd deal with that later. One of your brothers informed him that you hadn't eaten anything today and hadn't even touched the water bottle left on the nightstand.

Johnny dropped his bag by the kitchen door, and walked inside, greeted by his mother— who'd already made a platter for you. Some light snacks, nothing excessive, she was terrified of overwhelming you. When Johnny isn't home, she comes into your room a few times, maybe even brushes your hair, wipes your face carefully with a wet wipe, hoping it'll make you feel even 1% better.

Grabbing the tray, Johnny carried himself upstairs, using his free hand to gently open the door to your room, seeing it still enveloped in darkness.

"Hey." He spoke softly, softer than he probably ever had, as he sat down on the side of the bed, eyes trained on your face. It was paler and thinned than usual. Dark circles hugging your eyes,

He set the tray down on the nightstand, brushing strands of hair away from your face, "Think you could try eatin' summin', baby?" Johnny murmured, his knuckles carefully brushing against your cold cheekbone, trying to hide the worry in his gaze, "Even a few bites? It'd make me happy."