I’m not a feckin idiot

Despite what my mates say about me. Despite the fact that when I tried out for the rugby team back in first year, I face planted the floor and everyone laughed. Despite the fact that I have been carried home from too many parties and met with the stern face of my mam on the doorstep when Cormac drags me in and dumps me on the floor in the entry.

Despite the fact that she’s all I think about.

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The quiet shy girl who has managed to capture my heart and thoughts from simply being herself. She small, comically so when standing next to me, her head reaches my shoulder, just about. With her wide incident eyes and school uniform two sizes too big, handed down from her elder sister. I didn’t mean for it to happen. For me to fall so deeply for the girl, but I guess it’s true when they say ‘Like father, like son’.

And I know someone is hurting her.

She tries to hide the bruises, and usually does it well, but she can never hide from me. I see the small purple mark peeking out from under the sleeve of her blazer, the occasional busted lip, bruised eye that she’s tried to cover with makeup that can only be seen if someone looked close enough. And I do. I always look at her.

I also notice the way she freezes, muscles lock, hands shake, blazer pulled down over her hands when someone mentions her family. The fear that seeps into her eyes hurts me so I do what I do best. I distract, change the subject. Act like the fool in the group so the attention is taken off her. And when I see she’s calmed down, I pull her away, away from her friends and mine and to an empty classroom.

My mates know how entranced I am by her, always sending me winks when I draw her away and I play into it, because I’m a selfish bastard and am always happy to let everyone know that she’s my girl. But they don’t know it because I can see the way she’s going to breakdown because she’s overstimulated and doesn’t want to answer questions about her family.

It wasn’t hard to work out that something was going on at her home, but I never push. Never ask too many questions, never want her to feel like she has to do anything around me, or tell me something she’s not ready to. So I’ll wait. For however fecking long it will take for her to talk. Because she is it for me

And I’ve known in since we locked eyes on the first day, and I’m only falling deeper everyday for her. Even if she’s already mine, and I will shout it from the rooftops if she’ll let me, I’ll wait. Because I am in love with her and will do whatever it takes to make her feel safe.