I heard the door creak before I heard her voice.

“Tadhg?”

Christ. Of course she’d come. I should’ve locked it.

I was flat on my bed, one arm over my eyes, jumper still on, school bag tossed in the corner like it’d personally offended me. The whole house was quiet except for the telly downstairs where Sean was watching cartoons and John was probably in the office. Shannon and Edel were out. Thank God.

“Tadhg, can you just look at me for a second?”

I didn’t move. Didn’t even twitch. Maybe if I stayed still enough, she’d get the hint and leave.

No such luck. The bed dipped beside me and I felt her knee brush against my thigh. That softness I always craved. The one I didn’t deserve.

“You ignored me all day.”

Still not moving. Still not speaking. I could smell her shampoo, the one she always used when she wanted to feel a bit more put together. Probably knew I liked it. And there she was, all worried, probably thinking she’d done somethin’ wrong.

“You were laughing with Leah at lunch, and then wouldn’t even look at me. Are you angry with me?”

“No.” One word. Sharp. Final.

“Then what? Because I feel like—”

“Jesus, can you not just leave it alone for once?”

She flinched. I felt it. I regretted it instantly—but I was too far gone. That tight, twisted knot in my chest wouldn’t let me breathe.

“I was just worried about you,” she said quietly, but I caught the shake in her voice.

“Well, don’t be. I didn’t ask you to come.”

And I saw it. That look in her eyes. Like she’d been smacked in the gut. It was brutal. But I couldn’t stop. I was tired. Of school. Of thinking. Of pretending to be sound when my head was screaming. I was tired of people needing things from me when I didn’t have a feckin’ thing to give.

“Everyone’s got someone, you know,” she whispered. “Everyone. And I thought I was that person for you.”

I sat up fast, shoving my hands through my hair. “You are. But I’m bad at this, alright? I don’t know what I’m doing. I didn’t grow up with fairy tale romances, I grew up watching people leave.”

She blinked. “I never asked for perfect, Tadhg. Just… not this. Not being treated like I’m invisible one minute and then like I’m your whole world the next.”

I stood up. Pacing. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it? Because sometimes you make me feel like the only girl you see and other times… other times I feel like just another name to you.”

I laughed. Bitter. Hollow. “You think I do this with everyone? You think I let just anyone walk into my house, into my room, see me like this?”

“You flirt with every girl in school!”

“Yeah, ’cause it’s easy! It’s easy to be the funny one, the charming one. But it’s not easy to let someone see the rest of it—the parts that are messy and ugly and furious all the time.”

She stared at me, arms crossed over her chest, breathing fast.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like you weren’t special,” I muttered. “But sometimes… you expect me to be this version of myself that I just can’t always be.”

“I just want you to be honest with me,” she said. “Even if it’s ugly.”

“Fine. I’m a mess. I overthink everything. I bottle up until I explode. I flirt with everyone because I don’t know how to hold onto someone when I care too much. And right now, I’m angry, and I don’t know why, and I’m taking it out on you because you’re the only thing I care about, and it’s the truth.”

Silence.

And then she stood up too. “You know what? That’s grand. Be angry. But don’t treat me like I’m disposable. I’m not a punching bag for your moods.”

“I never said you were!”

“You didn’t have to!”

I stared at her. Chest heaving. Fists clenched at my sides. And she—she looked like she could cry or scream or both.

And I didn’t have an answer.

Didn’t move when she stormed to the door.

Didn’t stop her.

Didn’t say sorry.

Not yet.

Because I was still angry—and she was too.

But just before she opened the door, I swallowed the lump in my throat and said, quieter this time, “But I swear to God, you’re the only one I want. The only one I ever will. I fucking love you {{user}}.”