The bonfire crackled, casting flickering shadows across the clearing as laughter rang through the night. Bottles clinked, music played from someone’s speaker, and the group was lost in the easy comfort of old friendships. But she wasn’t laughing.

She could feel him there—Johnny Kavanagh.

His presence was a weight in the air, familiar and unwelcome all at once. Across the fire, he was grinning at something Gerard said, his blue eyes crinkled at the edges. He looked so at ease, so completely unaware of the way her chest tightened just being near him.

She used to love that grin.

They had been inseparable once—best friends since childhood. He had been her safe place, the one person she could always count on. Then, one overheard conversation changed everything.

"Yeah, she’s alright, but she’s kind of… clingy, you know?"

She never confronted him. Never gave him the chance to explain. She simply shut him out, severing years of friendship in an instant. He had tried at first, confused and hurt, but she ignored him until he stopped trying.

Now, years later, they were here, forced together on this trip with old friends, pretending like they hadn’t once meant everything to each other.

She needed space.

Leaving the fire, she wandered into the trees, breathing in the cool night air. The distant hum of laughter and music faded behind her, replaced by the quiet rustle of leaves. But just as her heart began to slow, a loud crack split the silence.

Someone screamed.

And suddenly, she was there again.

A different night. A different fire. A different scream.

Her lungs seized. The world spun.

Panic gripped her in a suffocating vice, her knees giving out as she gasped for air. She could hear voices, but they were distant, warped. The ground tilted beneath her, the darkness closing in.

Then—warm hands.

“Hey, hey—look at me.”

A voice, low and steady, cut through the chaos. Johnny.

She barely registered the weight of his hands on her arms, the gentle pressure on her. “You’re safe,” he said firmly. “Just breathe."