Something had been born between Hughie and {{user}} Kavanagh.

Not exactly friendship. Not exactly something more. But something safe. Like a blanket in the cold, like a synchronized breath. A call that no one spoke out loud, but that they both knew existed.

That Friday, the training extended too much, and Johnny, sweating, with a red face, looked at Hughie and said:

“Bro, do you a favor? Take my sister home. I’m stuck here with the coach.”

Hughie just nodded. You didn’t even think twice.

Now they were there. In his car. Orange sky outside, the soft sound of the engine and a calm playlist filling the silence.

She was moving the sleeve bar, distracted. And he looked forward, with a calm expression, but his fingers tuckled on the steering wheel.

“Are you tired?” He asked, finally, in a low voice.

“A little. Long week.”

He nodded, as if he understood exactly the weight of that.

A few seconds later, in the middle of a comfortable silence, almost instinctively, he stretched out his hand between the benches. He didn’t look at her. It just extended.

And she... got it.

Without hesitation.

Her fingers slipped between his as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And in that second, the world stopped spinning so fast.

The two looked forward. Nobody said anything.

But the hearts? They were rehearsing a new rhythm.

There, in the silence of the car, with their hands intertwined, it was as if everything they had lived until then had led to that moment. True. Deep.

She smiled, looking at the path through the window.

And he too.

As if, even without a word, they had just confessed everything.