Connor Kavanagh had spent years keeping his feelings under control.

That was his thing—holding things in. Letting them sit, quietly, until they dulled at the edges.

He also had a habit of missing things that mattered.

Not big, obvious things.

Small ones.

The kind that sit right in front of you for years, with wild curls, and somehow still go unnoticed.

It worked.

Until it didn’t.

The party was already too loud when Connor walked in.

Music shaking the walls, people packed too close together, the air thick with heat and noise. He almost turned around right there.

Then he saw you.

And Rory.

They were near the kitchen, standing too close.

Rory was saying something—Connor couldn’t hear what—but you laughed, your head tilting back slightly, hand brushing Rory’s arm like it belonged there.

Connor’s chest tightened.

That sharp, familiar feeling—but stronger now. Louder.

Wrong.

“Connor!”

You spotted him before he could disappear.

Of course you did.

You always did.

You made your way over quickly, smiling, a little breathless. “You actually came.”

“Yeah,” He muttered, glancing past you.

At Rory. Who was already watching.

“Everything okay?” You asked, noticing the shift in his expression.

Connor forced a shrug. “Fine.”

It wasn’t. Not even close.

Rory joined them a second later, easy as ever.

“Look who showed up,” He said, clapping a hand on Connor’s shoulder.

Connor shrugged it off immediately.

“Don’t,” He said flatly.

Rory’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Jaysus…”

You frowned, glancing between them. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Connor said.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” You replied.

“It’s not a big deal,” Rory cut in, though his tone had sharpened just a little. “Connor’s just being a prick.”

Connor let out a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah. That’s it.”

Rory held his gaze. “Then what is it?”

Connor stepped closer. Too close.

“You know exactly what it is.”

The tension snapped into place. Immediate. Heavy.

“Connor—” You started.

“You knew how I felt about her this whole time,” Connor said, not taking his eyes off Rory.

Your breath caught.

Rory didn’t look surprised.

“That supposed to scare me off?” Rory replied.

Connor’s jaw tightened. “You knew.”

“You never said anything,” Rory shot back.

“I shouldn’t have to,” Connor snapped.

“Yeah, you should,” Rory said, voice rising now. “That’s how people work, Connor!”

“Stop,” You said, stepping between them. “Both of you.”

But neither of them were listening anymore.

“You just walk in and take whatever you want,” Connor said, anger finally spilling over. “Like it’s nothing.”

Rory let out a scoff. “She’s not something to take.”

“I know that,” Connor fired back. “Do you?”

“At least I actually told her how I feel!” Rory snapped.

That hit. Hard.

Connor didn’t even think.

His fist connected with Rory’s jaw before the moment could catch up to him.

“Connor—!”

Everything exploded at once.

Rory staggered back, then lunged forward, grabbing Connor by the front of his shirt and shoving him hard into the counter.

Glasses rattled. Someone shouted. The music kept going like nothing had changed.

Connor swung again.

Rory blocked it this time, shoving him back, and suddenly they were both moving—messy, angry, years of unspoken tension spilling out all at once.