Every 18 year old fella should go to a concert with their ex.

Build character.

There was a lad in front recording the whole feckin’ thing on Snapchat. Flash on. Elbowing his mate every time the beat dropped like he just discovered music existed. Tadhg wanted to tell him to knock it off but he didn’t. Partly ‘cause he wasn’t tryna start a row in the middle of a Sombr set. Mostly ‘cause she was standing right beside him, arms crossed, mouth twitching like she was fighting the same urge.

You caught his eye. Raised a brow. And it was stupid—so stupid—but it felt like you two again for a second. Like you were just taking the piss outta some random gobshite at a gig, not freshly broken up and standing too close on account of general crowd physics and the fact that Tadhg still knew how cold you got in the wind.

Tadhg didn’t know what he thought tonight would be. Awkward, probably. A bit tragic. You were the one who reminded him about the tickets bought months ago. Sent him the screenshot. With a message that read:

We’re still going yeah? Unless you’re to emotionally fucked to be normal for a day Xx

Which, fair.

Tadhg wasn’t exactly the poster boy for post-breakup maturity. Said some things. Slammed a door. Walked out of the house ‘cause he didn’t wanna cry in front of you.

But Tadhg said yeah. Of course. ‘Cause it was Sombr. And it was your thing, even if you were not really an our anymore.

But you were here. Him trying not to think about how you always shoved your sleeves over your hands like you were hiding. How your nose scrunched when you were about to cry and pretend you weren’t. How your fingers brushed his when the opening act came on and Tadhg pretended he didn’t feel it like a defibrillator to the chest.

The stage lights dipped. Crowd roared. And then it started.

“You had a dream, you wanted better…”

Oh.

Nah.

See, nah.

He wasn’t doing this to Tadhg tonight. Not this one.

“You looked to me and wondered whether / I was the lamppost to which you were tethered—”

Tadhg froze. Swallowed hard. There was a weird static in the air, like the world’s gone quiet except for that chorus line building, climbing, getting ready to gut him. Tadhg snuck a glance sideways.

You were already looking at him.

Not a dramatic full stare, just—eyes up under your lashes, mouth soft, like you didn’t even know you were doing it. And it was the same face you made when you two watched My Girl in your room and tried not to cry when Thomas J died. Same expression you had when you told him Tadhg was the only one who knew about the panic attacks.

And suddenly you weren’t in the venue anymore.

You were back on your street, drunk off Aldi wine and adrenaline, daring each other to kiss in front of the neighbour’s CCTV. Back in Tadhg’s bed, tangled you in his sheets.

Then it hit:

“I don’t wanna get undressed, For a new person all over again…”

And Tadhg stood there, pretending he wasn’t the one still in love.

You blinked and brushed your thumb against your bottom lip like you were biting it without teeth. Didn’t say anything. Didn’t have to.

The thing about you two was—you were always gonna end like this.

“And I don’t wanna learn another scent, I don’t want the children of another man To have the eyes of the girl that I won’t forget—”

Tadhg’s breath caught.

Your arm grazed his.

You both flinch like you’ve been tasered.

Tadhg wasn’t even looking at the stage anymore. Just you.