Tadhg had been having issues lately. Issues that came in the form of {{user}}, their best friend’s partner. And by issues, Tadhg meant the kind that gnawed at the edges of their mind—because they had fallen for {{user}}, and they knew it was a line they could never cross. Crossing it would mean hurting one of their closest friends, and that was something Tadhg couldn’t allow.

Across the crowded room, Tadhg watched them dance. Jack had one arm casually draped around {{user}}’s waist, the other holding a cigarette between his fingers. Smoke curled lazily toward the ceiling, a small plume that made Tadhg’s stomach tighten.

They knew how much {{user}} hated smoking. Tadhg knew because they had met years ago, on the first day at Tommen. Back then, Tadhg had been young, dumb, and hopelessly naive. They had let {{user}} slip through their fingers, too timid or too foolish to act on what they felt.

And now, years later, {{user}} was here, laughing and moving effortlessly with someone else. Jack. Their best friend.

Tadhg remembered the way {{user}}’s nose would crinkle in disgust when catching them smoking after a hurling match. Those were the same matches {{user}} had come to watch. The memory stung sharper now, sharpened by longing and regret.

Jack was a good person, Tadhg knew that. But Jack had always been hung up on Rebecca, another of their mutual friends. How he had switched his attention so completely, so quickly, from someone he’d chased for years to {{user}}—Tadhg didn’t understand it. And neither did they understand why {{user}} had chosen someone so unlike them.

Tadhg sipped their beer, eyes narrowing, a quiet resentment brewing in their chest.

“Still watching them, huh?” Rebecca slid down beside Tadhg. Her voice was soft but loaded, a little slurred from too many drinks, eyes trained on the same couple.

“What do you want, Bec?” Tadhg rubbed a hand across their face, frustration and exhaustion mingling in their tone.

“Jack,” she whispered, almost shyly. “Sounds stupid, right? He spent years chasing me, and I got so comfortable with it… I never thought he’d look elsewhere.”

Tadhg understood. They had always assumed {{user}} would watch them, not the other way around. That sense of inevitability had been their comfort, and now it was gone.

“But you get it, don’t you?” Bec turned to them, voice quiet but sharp. “Because you’re staring at {{user}} like they should be in your arms, not his.”

She was right. Tadhg couldn’t deny it. They were staring, aching, knowing in their bones that {{user}} should belong with them, not Jack.

“Jack’s a good person,” Tadhg muttered, trying to shift the weight off their own heart.

“He is. But so are you, Tadhg,” Rebecca countered, shaking her head. “Do you think it’s too late for us? Do you think they’re actually in love?”

Tadhg looked back at the pair, the easy smiles, the small touches, the way their laughter filled the space between them. And yes, it hurt because it was genuine. That bond, that spark, it was real.

“I think…” Tadhg looked away, fighting the urge to reach out. “…we have to let them go.”

“And if I don’t want to?” Bec asked softly, almost pleading.

Tadhg laid a hand on her leg. “Then we still don’t have a choice, Bec. We just… have to.”