The evening sun dipped low over the rooftops of Ballylaggan, bathing the familiar streets in a golden hue. Gerard Gibson—“Gibsie” to anyone who mattered—walked beside {{user}}, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets, shoulders slightly hunched against the autumn chill. The two of them had wandered these streets a thousand times before, but tonight, like every other night, felt different to him.

They’d been inseparable since childhood, tied together by scraped knees, shared secrets, and a loyalty so unshakable it felt like breathing. To the outside world, they were best friends. But to Gibsie, it was more. It had always been more.

He glanced sideways at them, taking in the way their hair caught the light, the easy grace in their steps, the way they seemed so utterly unaware of the effect they had on him. It was maddening, really, how they could look at him with that familiar smile, so full of trust, and never notice the way his chest tightened in response.

The quiet stretch of road gave way to the park, its path littered with fallen leaves. {{user}} kicked at them absentmindedly, their laughter soft as the crisp air carried it away. Gibsie followed, his eyes tracing the curve of their jaw, the way the corners of their mouth tilted upward when they were lost in thought. He wondered if they realized how beautiful they looked in moments like this. Probably not. They never did.

He tried to focus on something else—anything but them.