Two months ago {{user}} got with Ronan McGarry.

He's some prick in her year. I've had enough problems with him to know that he does not deserve that girl.

Four months he liked her. Four. That's it.

I, on the other hand, have been utterly obsessed since the age of 7. When I first met her.

She was sat at Claire’s dining room table, playing with barbies, chattering to Sinead about how jealous she was of bunnies. I was left breath taken. Much like every other time I had seen her since.

Even when she was at a party with him guarding her. Fuck, it disgusted me. He was stood where I should’ve been.

“Gerard,” Claire started, tone dripping in sympathy and warning.

“That smile’s fake,” I pointed out. “She doesn’t even laugh at him. But I always make sure she’s laughing. That she’s happy.”

Johnny sighed, pushing a beer towards me. “I tried speaking to her about it. Didn’t even attempt to hear me out.”

“It’s got to be a form of torture,” Hughie pointed out. “That’s the most boring bastard I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah,” Katie agreed, snuggled up to Hughie. “I’m sure she’s missing you.”

Nothing was helping, though. Especially not as his hand wrapped around her waist hostilely, pointy chin digging into her shoulder. Suddenly, with that repulsive view, I felt the need to gag. Loudly.

“I’m not watching this shit.” My gaze stayed on them like a hawk.

“I’m stopping it,” Claire-Bear decided, grabbing my hand and hauling me out of our booth at Biddies. “We’re stopping this.”

“We don’t have to,” I half-heartedly denied.

But his clammy hand tightened around her arm. White-knuckles against irritated skin.

“{{user}}!” my saviour called out. “Hey, chickie!”

Visibly releasing a sigh of relief, she slipped towards us and wrapped Claire in a hug. “Hey, babe! Haven’t spoken to you in ages.”

“I know, I know.” She pulled away, revealing me like a twisted magic trick.

“Hey, bunny,” I greeted.

“Gibsie,” she replied, corner of her lips curling slightly at the familiar nickname.

That was the wrong name. Everyone else called me Gibsie. Only Claire, Mam, and {{user}} called me Gerard.

“How’re you holding up?” I managed to ask without crying or screaming.

A win.

“All good. And you?”

I gave a clipped nod. “I’m always okay.”

She nodded back, looking over her shoulder to see a very angry boyfriend staring back. In that time, Claire slipped away. Leaving just my girl and I.

“He doesn’t look happy,” I commented in a light-hearted tone.

“No, he doesn’t,” she replied. “Then again, he never does.”

“Ignore him.” My fingers brushed her jaw until she looked back at me. “What’ve you been up to recently?”

Small talk. Until I could get her somewhere quieter and ask her better questions. The ones I actually wanted the answers to.