The roar of the crowd was deafening, but all you could hear was the pounding of your own heart. It was the final rugby game of the season—the last before graduation—and the energy in the air was electric. Yet, amidst the chaos of cheering fans and blaring whistles, your gaze was locked on one person: Gerard “Gibsie” Gibson.

From the moment you’d seen him that morning, whining about how the season was ending, how much he’d miss this team, a familiar pang twisted in your chest. He had that effect on you—his charm, his relentless energy, and that ridiculous, lopsided grin that could somehow make the whole world feel lighter. He’d always been your closest friend, your neighbor, your second family. But over the years, he’d morphed into something so much more in your heart, something you weren’t sure you could name aloud.

Standing in the stands beside Shannon and Lizzie, you tugged at the sleeve of one of Gerard’s old jerseys—a ritual you’d carried on since primary school. It still smelled faintly of him, a mix of cologne and sweat, and the thought made your cheeks flush despite the noise around you.

“{{user}}, you’re practically glowing over there,” Shannon teased, elbowing you gently.

You forced a laugh. “I’m fine,” you said, though your eyes didn’t leave him, scanning the field like he might vanish if you looked away.

“Yeah, fine,” Lizzie muttered under her breath, shaking her head with a smirk.

And then the game surged forward. Gerard got the ball. He darted between defenders like he’d been born to move this way, the stadium shaking with each cheer. And when he crossed the line and scored, the crowd erupted, but your breath caught for a different reason entirely.

His eyes found yours across the field. That grin—the one that had ruined your ability to focus all day—spread wider. Then, with a flick of his hands, he made a heart and aimed it straight at you.

God, you adored this boy.

Shannon leaned closer, her smirk almost audible in the rush of cheering. “He likes you, you know,” she said, nudging you again.

You laughed nervously, brushing her off. “Shut up,” you muttered, though the warmth in your chest betrayed you.

“Oh, come on,” Shannon pressed, rolling her eyes. “You’ve spent your whole life with him. You’re not blind.”

“I… I just don’t know,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “He… he flirts with everyone. And then he says things like…” Your voice trailed off, but the memory of his voice lingered. “‘You’re the only one who gets me, y’know that?’”

Lizzie snorted softly. “Yeah. That’s called being confusing. And maybe, just maybe, he knows you’ll stick around no matter what.”

The thought made your chest tighten. You had spent years being his partner-in-crime—endless summers, late-night movie marathons, heated arguments that always ended with him flashing that cheeky grin and somehow disarming every frustration in your chest. And yet, somehow, you’d never been able to pin him down.

“God, I love him,” you admitted quietly, almost to yourself.

“You’ve loved him since you were seven,” Shannon said, nudging you once more.

“And I always will,” you added, the words bitter-sweet.

Your heart swelled watching him laugh with his teammates, completely unaware of the storm of feelings you carried. This boy—your boy—was untouchable in every way, and yet, he had been yours in all the ways that mattered.

Except… was he really yours?

Your eyes met his again. He winked. And for a moment, in that loud, chaotic stadium, the world fell away.