Tadhg Lynch had always been observant. It was almost a survival instinct — something he’d learned far too young. Reading expressions, anticipating shifts, noticing danger before it became real. That was how he knew when to act… and when to stay quiet.

But ever since the two of you had wandered into that strange space between friendship and something more, he’d started doubting that skill.

Because you were… a wall.

You hid your feelings so well, leaned so heavily into that stoic image, that sometimes Tadhg had to try harder than ever to read you. You felt unreachable. Almost.

Still, he had learned your tells.

The faint furrow of your brows when you were thinking too hard in algebra class. The way you bit the tip of your pencil when you were anxious before presenting in literature. The little scrunch of your nose when you disagreed with him. Your soft sighs when something finally made sense. The way you bit your lip when you were weighing something in your mind.

And of course… the blush that painted your cheeks and nose whenever he teased you.

But nothing was more complicated than touching you.

You didn’t like being touched — and Tadhg wanted to do it all the time. Not in a wrong way… in a gentle way. He wanted to pull you into his lap, wrap you in a safe, warm hug, erase whatever bad memories you carried about it. He wanted to feel you sigh against his chest, bury his face in your hair that always felt so soft.

He wanted to know what had made you hate physical contact so much… but he was afraid to ask and make you run.

Damn. He wanted a lot of things. Many of them in a very romantic way.

But you weren’t ready — so he was willing to wait.

And that night, when you showed up unexpectedly at the Kavanagh house, he didn’t ask why. He never did. He didn’t have to. He’d seen that kind of hurt before, inside his own family.

So he did what any half-in-love friend would do.

He made room for you in his bed.

You scrunched your nose, like always, but you gave in. Now you were sharing the same pillow, your shoulders nearly touching. Tadhg tried not to get too excited, but it was the closest you’d been in… what? A year and a half?

He wasn’t going to complain.

One earbud in his ear, the other in yours. Purple Rain by Prince played softly.

Tadhg watched your profile in the dim light until he couldn’t resist anymore. Slowly, under the blanket, his hand searched for yours. It was risky — you had already let your guard down so much tonight, and he was afraid the wall would come back.

He felt your fingers tense.

Then, to his surprise, your warm, soft hand answered. Your fingers laced through his.

God… that felt so good.

His heart nearly leapt out of his chest, but he settled for smiling, squeezing your hand carefully, like he was holding something fragile and precious.

After a few quiet seconds, he murmured, softly, almost afraid to break the moment:

“Can I ask you something… or do you want me to just stay like this with you a little longer?"