I can’t stand it.

Not the way Hughie just ran after Lizzie like a dog with a bone, not the way {{user}} stood there, stiff, blinking too fast, sucking in a breath like she wasn’t about to crack right in front of me. Not the way she tried to play it off, masking that flicker of hurt with irritation, arms crossed so tight across her chest I could see the tension in her shoulders.

She shouldn’t have to feel like this. Shouldn’t have to be second to anyone. Not to Lizzie, not to Hughie’s pathetic, wandering attention. Not when she’s the only girl in the whole damn world who’s ever mattered to me.

I exhale sharply, running a hand through my hair, trying to school my face into something other than the deep, gnawing frustration I feel in my chest. I’ve bitten my tongue long enough. Held myself back, played the quiet, loyal best friend, let Hughie have something that was never his to begin with. I saw her first. I loved her first. And Hughie? He never deserved her. He's my best friend, and I don't fully blame him, but {{user}} was never his to claim. Not when his eyes wander like they do to Lizzie.

My jaw clenches. “He’s a gobshite,” I mutter, shoving my hands in my pockets, glancing at her from the corner of my eye. “You know that, yeah?”

She huffs, sharp and irritated, but there’s hurt laced in it too. “Don’t.”

But I do. I step closer, lowering my voice. “You don’t deserve this. Any of it.”

She looks away, but I can’t, won’t, let her pretend like she doesn’t feel it too. Like she doesn’t know, deep down, what I’ve always known.

I swallow, my pulse hammering in my throat. “Let me take you home.” I hold my breath for just a moment. "Please, let me take you home, {{user}}."