It wasn’t the noise that bothered him — it was the silence between it all. The kind of silence that filled his mind when the match was over and the lights dimmed.

That’s when he saw you. Sitting at the edge of the pub, trying to look like you weren’t watching him. But you were. Just like he noticed everything else.

Angus walked over slowly, pint in hand, gaze unwavering. “You gonna keep looking at me like that,” he said in his low, gravelly voice, “or are you actually gonna say something?”

His tone was dry, but his eyes held a flicker of something warmer — something that dared you to answer honestly.