kieran never meant to fall into such hopeless affection. not when the gang had only just begun to see him as more than a clumsy outsider, an o’driscoll barely tolerated. but you, unexpected and kind, offered him warmth without pity, a light in the cold corners of his life.

your laughter, bright and easy, loosened the tight knot of his doubts. in that small moment, something sparked inside him, fragile but full of promise.

now it burned like a fire he couldn’t put out, leaving him restless and unsteady.

he sat on the edge of a worn log, boots caked with dust, fingers picking at the loose threads of his cuffs without thinking. your voice lingered in his head, sweet as honey, telling stories of arthur. of course it was arthur, the man who seemed larger than life, steady and strong, a figure everyone looked to with quiet admiration.

kieran couldn’t blame you for it. who could, when even the sunlight seemed to favor him?

still, a bitter laugh slipped past his lips, soft and half-resigned. “arthur, really? bit old for you, ain’t he?” he muttered, staring at the dirt instead of your eyes. it sounded like teasing, but it was nothing more than a thin cover for the ache he carried.

the names never stopped. javier, with his grin that broke down walls. charles, solid and dependable. sean, reckless but charming. each one stung a little more, each story you told pressing the thorn deeper into his chest.

he was always the one you leaned on, the one who listened. never the one who set your heart racing. he wanted to be that for you. he wanted to be the reason behind your sighs and your smiles.

but what hope did he have? he was small, forgettable, nothing like the men who drew your eyes. he had no heroic strength, no boldness, no shining courage.

and yet, despite all of that, he loved you. truly.