When Hugh walked into the lounge after work on Saturday night, bore weary and ready for bed, he stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes landed on the couch, a.k.a. his makeshift bed since that night.

Holding a finger up to her lips, Mam inclined her head, gesturing for Hugh to come in but didn't move a muscle from her perch on the couch.

Supposed she couldn't, not when she had two girls draped over her lap.

Well, {{user}} was draped over his mother's lap, and Claire was draped over your legs.

It was a whole heap of hair and tearstained cheeks.

His fucking heart buckled at the sight.

Feeling like his legs were made of lead, he debated remaining in the archway that led from the kitchen to the lounge before releasing a defeated sigh.

Where else was Hugh supposed to go? He couldn't leave, could he?

This was his fucking home.

Tossing his swim bag on the floor, Hugh reluctantly joined his mother, taking a seat on the coffee table in front of her rather than risk your body touching his.

Mam waited until Hugh was sitting down before broaching the subject that he knew was on the tip of everyone's tongue. "What happened, Hugh?"

Hugh’s gaze flicked from his mother to you and then his sister before settling back on you. Always you. "What did she say happened?"

"Nothing," Mam urged, tone laced with concern. "That's the problem. I can't make sense of a word the girl has been saying all night."

Pain.

It fucking floored him.

Because he didn't want this.

Hugh didn't want you to cry.

He didn't want you to break down again, but he just... couldn't be the one to put you back together this time. "We broke up, Mam."

"That much I've gathered," Mam replied, stroking your cheek like you were her second daughter, and in a way, you always had been.

You’d spent your childhood in this house, in a fortress of love, security, and comfort that his mother had built around all. Hugh knew that's why you continued to return. Why you were here right now.

Hell, Hugh didn't even blame you. He been in your home. It was like experiencing the funeral on repeat in that house.

Sadness and tears.

Pain and anger playing on a loop like a broken record.

Hugh’s home had become your reprieve, and breakup or not, he would never take that away from you. He only hoped you could find in Claire whatever you had found in him because he couldn't give it to you anymore.

"Care to tell me why?" Mam pushed when he made no move to delve deeper.

"Something terrible must have happened." Panic flared in her eyes as she put two and two together and came up with five. "Hugh, I know you’re in fourth year now, and some of your friends are moving fast with girls, but {{user}}—”

"What—no!" Hughie snapped, cutting her off before she could go there.

"That's not me.” He bit out. "I would never."

"Okay" Blowing out a relieved breath, Mam turned her attention back to the sleeping girl on her lap. "Then what happened?"

"She decided this," Hugh heard himself admit, and Christ did he hate the way his voice cracked when the admission escaped his lips. "She doesn't love me anymore, Mam.”

"I don't believe that for a second," Mam argued gently. "Teenage girls don't ory over boys like this when they're not in love."

That hit Hugh hard.

Fucking gutted him.

Tore his heart to ribbons.

"Fuck." Dropping his head in his hands, Hugh gripped his hair so tight, he thought he might rip it from his scalp.

He certainly needed to fuck something up.