It was a stupid fight. The kind that starts small and ends up far bigger than it ever should have been.

You and Tadhg hadn’t spoken for two weeks. Two long weeks filled with silence, swallowed words, and messages that were never sent. All because of an argument that spiraled out of control.

His accusations about your “emotional blockage” hadn’t been entirely unfair. They hurt because they were true. You loved him — there was no doubt about that — but letting him truly in was terrifying. You hadn’t trusted anyone in a long time… and when Tadhg earned that trust, when he became the safest place you had, it scared you.

How could you believe that what little you were able to give would ever be enough for him? Why was it that every time he got too close, you panicked and ruined everything?

Typical.

But the truth was painfully simple: you regretted it. The argument. The way he walked out of your house that night. The way you let him leave.

You missed your best friend. You missed your Tadhg.

That was why, that night, you walked all the way to his neighborhood. The cold air burned your lungs, but the idea of staying away burned more. Before doing anything reckless — before knocking on his window unannounced — you called him.

After a few rings, he answered.

“{{user}}…?” His voice was rough with sleep, soft and achingly familiar. “Are you okay?”

You swallowed hard.

“I am.” It was a lie. He knew it. You did too. After a small silence on the line, you continued, “Did I cross a line by calling you?”

“No.” The answer came too fast. “You didn’t cross a line.” He sounded more awake now. “I… I was thinking about calling you.”

Your chest tightened.

“I’m in your neighborhood,” you finally admitted.

The silence that followed was different. Not uncomfortable — thoughtful. As if Tadhg were deciding whether to protect his heart… or let you back in.

“Then come here,” he said at last, his voice low. “Let’s talk.”

You agreed, hung up, and finished the walk to the Kavanagh house. You slipped through the side gate like you always had, your steps guided by memory. You climbed carefully until you reached the ledge outside Tadhg’s bedroom.

Everything felt so familiar it hurt.

Tadhg was already waiting for you at the window.

The oversized hoodie, messy hair, his face lit softly by the bedroom light. When he saw you, his shoulders relaxed in an almost unconscious way.

That was it. He was letting it happen.

And this time, you didn’t want to ruin anything.

“Hey,” he whispered, opening the window for you to climb inside, as if he were afraid the moment might shatter if he spoke any louder.

Your eyes met.

And for one suspended second in time, it felt like those two weeks had never existed at all.