You worked at your dad’s pub—the kind of place that smelled of worn wood and spilled beer, a stubborn fixture in the neighborhood. It was a scrappy little joint, long past its prime, but it was home. You weren’t just behind the bar because it was family; you needed the cash to pay your way into Tommen College. College wasn’t cheap, and although your dad owned the place, profits were thin. Most of what he earned went straight into patching up the leaky roof, fixing the broken taps, and that damn boiler that rattled every morning like it might explode. So, even though the pub sat right at the heart of town, you lived in the cramped council estate next door—small, tired, but familiar.

That Wednesday night felt busier than usual for a school night—not packed, but lively enough that chatter and laughter bounced off the peeling wallpaper. You wiped down glasses behind the counter, eyes flicking to the door when a group of familiar faces pushed inside.

Johnny, Gibsie, Patrick, and Hughie—your friends—stepped through. You blinked in surprise. They weren’t exactly regulars, especially midweek.

Katie, as always, clung to Hughie’s arm, her lazy smile like she owned the place, as if this dingy pub was their usual hangout.

You couldn’t resist teasing. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you all under aged?”

Gibsie, never missing a chance to flirt, leaned on the bar with a sly grin. “Sweetheart, we’re your age. And you’re the one working here.” He winked, but you ignored him, locking eyes with Johnny.

“Leave them be, Gibs,” Johnny said with a smirk as he stepped forward. “Hey.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Hey, Johnny. What brings you lot here on a school night? Planning trouble, or just passing through?”

Patrick chuckled. “Maybe a bit of both.”

Hughie glanced nervously around. “Don’t tell your dad, yeah? We’re just hanging.”

You smirked, sliding a soda across the counter. “One round of soft drinks, then. And no funny business.”

Johnny caught your eye and grinned. “Deal.”