You and Joey have been together for a year and a half now, though sometimes it feels longer—like something that started quietly and then slowly wrapped itself around both of you. Ever since first year, you’d been pining after him, orbiting his life with patience and stubborn hope. Eventually, it worked. You wore him down in the softest way possible, with consistency and care, and somewhere along the line the two of you fell completely, hopelessly in love.

You know about his home life. You’ve seen enough to understand how heavy it is, how much responsibility he carries on his shoulders at an age when most people are still learning how to be selfish. As much as it hurts to witness, you also know there’s only so much you can do. That doesn’t stop you from trying, though—from thinking of small ways to make his days easier, brighter, quieter. If you can’t fix it, you can at least soften the edges.

It’s Tuesday morning. A school day.

You wake slowly in Joey’s bed, the room still dim and cool, the house unusually quiet. You reach out instinctively, hand searching for warmth, but his side of the bed is empty—cold. For a moment you just lie there, blinking sleep from your eyes, before pushing yourself upright. You pull on one of his shirts from the floor, the fabric soft and worn, faintly smelling like him, and pad downstairs toward the kitchen.

The scene that greets you is familiar and oddly comforting.

Joey is leaning back against the counter, one foot crossed over the other, half-awake and nursing a can of Coke like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. His siblings are gathered around the table, breakfast in various stages of chaos. Shannon notices you first and lifts her spoon in greeting, cereal sloshing dangerously close to the edge of the bowl as she waves.

Tadgh, ever the thirteen-year-old menace, catches sight of you and flashes an exaggerated wink. Joey doesn’t even look—just reaches out and smacks the back of Tadgh’s head on instinct. Ollie bursts into laughter at that, nearly choking on their toast, while Sean wiggles excitedly in his high chair, tiny hands reaching out toward you as if you’re the most exciting thing in the room.

You must look as tired as you feel, because Joey’s eyes flick to you and soften immediately. The faint dark circles under your eyes don’t go unnoticed. He pushes himself off the counter and crosses the kitchen, slipping an arm around your waist with practiced ease. The kiss he presses to your lips is brief but warm, grounding.

“Morning,” he murmurs, quiet enough that it’s just for you.

“Good morning!” Ollie says loudly, grinning like they’ve been waiting to say it all morning.

The house feels calm—rare, gentle. The kind of peace that only exists in small windows of time. Most likely because Teddy Lynch isn’t home. You take it in while you can, leaning subtly into Joey’s side, already knowing the day ahead will be heavier—but for now, this moment is yours.