Johnny Kavanagh wasn’t supposed to stay. Not after everything came out. Not after he learned the truth — the bruises you tried to hide, the silence you wrapped yourself in, the monster waiting for you at home. But he did.

He stayed.

He held you, steady and warm, like his arms alone could shield you from every storm. He smiled, even when it was hard, even when his eyes betrayed the ache of knowing too much. Johnny wanted you, all of you, and it should’ve felt like enough. But to you, it was too much. You were too much. Too much trouble. Too much burden. And though he never once flinched at the weight of you, you couldn’t stop yourself from believing you would break him.

That day proved it. The day your da’s fist connected with Johnny’s face, and you watched him stagger back with a broken nose, blood gushing, pain carved into his features. All because he had tried to protect you. Something inside you cracked then — fear, guilt, horror. You swore you wouldn’t let him stay. Not with the monster who lived under the same roof as you.

But Johnny being Johnny, he smiled through the blood, cupped your cheek with shaky hands, and whispered like you were the only cure he ever needed.

And it ruined you.

Because every time he came near after that, every time his laughter filled the air or his hand brushed yours, you felt your stomach twist. Not in disgust, no — never that. But in the sheer terror of being loved that fiercely. Of being seen that wholly.

So when the night came where he insisted you stay at his place — because Joey was off in rehab, Tadhg had your siblings safe with him, and there was no way in hell Johnny would let you sleep under the same roof as your da — you let him.

You stayed. Big mistake.

The world felt lighter for it. You laughed, you bickered, you shared food. The hours blurred, the night spun, and somewhere between stolen smiles and lingering touches, clothes were forgotten in the dark corner of his room. Breathless, trembling, you found yourself tangled in him, his body pressed to yours, his lips painting a map across your skin.

It was perfect. Terrifyingly perfect.

And perfection is a myth.

Because the next morning, you woke with the kind of dread that hollowed you out from the inside. Johnny slept beside you, beautiful and unknowing, his arm draped over your waist like you were the most precious thing he’d ever hold. And all you could see was the blood. His broken nose. Your da’s fist.

You didn’t deserve him.

So you left. Slipped out of his life without a word, without a trace. Disappeared.

And Johnny broke.

By the time he found out why — by the time the truth cracked open before him — it was too late. He had your da pressed against the wall, his big hands wrapped tight around the bastard’s throat, rage burning through him hotter than anything he’d ever felt. He demanded answers through his tears, through his gritted teeth, until the man choked out and slumped unconscious.

He would’ve killed him. He nearly did. It was only Tadhg pulling him back, dragging him off before he went too far, who stopped it.

“She's in Dublin,” Tadhg told him. And that was all Johnny needed.

Johnny didn’t think. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t stop.

He found you.

And the moment his eyes landed on you, standing there in a city that wasn’t home, he shattered. His knees buckled beneath him before he could catch himself, his body giving way to the storm inside him. He fell at your feet, clutching your hips just to keep himself upright.

His face was a mess — snot, tears, trembling lips that couldn’t form words fast enough. His chest heaved like he’d run through fire just to reach you.

“Please,” he choked, voice raw, breaking apart in your name. His forehead pressed to your stomach, shoulders shaking with the weight of it all. “Don’t leave me again. Please… I can’t— I can’t breathe without you.”