He noticed. Always. From the very first day you met.

You didn’t attend Tommen College; you went to BSC with your brother, but little Shannon did. So you and Gerard ended up spending too much time together.

And yet… there was something. Something about the way you looked at Johnny and Shannon when she laughed with him. It wasn’t entirely jealousy—you could see it in your eyes that you were happy for your sister—but there was something else too. A quiet ache, an unspoken wish. Not for Johnny, not even for the laughter (though maybe in part), but for the comfort. For having someone to wake up to every day. Someone other than your siblings.

Gerard noticed it. He always did. After years of chasing after his childhood friend Claire Biggs, he thought he knew what love was—but watching you, his heart shifted. The bad news was obvious: you were broken. Maybe as broken as he was. And what good could two broken people do to each other?

Still, he was glued to you. You didn’t see each other often since your schools were different. He had Tommen College with its manicured lawns, clean bathrooms, and entitled students; you had BSC, where resources were limited, and sometimes the bathroom doubled as a hangout spot. But Gerard took every chance he could to be near you.

Like now.

You were sitting on the edge of a hospital bed, hugging your knees. Shannon’s lungs had ruptured, and the emergency had been chaotic. She was on the stretcher, laughing weakly at Johnny’s attempts to distract her, while your older brother Darren and Joey bickered loudly nearby. Darren didn’t want you filing a police report against your mother for negligence; he insisted she was a victim too. Your chest felt tight, your stomach a knot of frustration and fear, and no one seemed to notice.

Until Gerard.

He appeared at your side quietly, eyes scanning your tense posture. "What happened, Lynchy?" he asked, using the nickname he’d given you years ago. His voice was low, cautious, but full of concern.

You lifted your head slowly. "It… it’s Shannon. She’s… she’s fine, I think. But—" Your voice cracked. You looked down again, ashamed of how small and fragile you felt.

"Have you eaten yet?" Gerard pressed, perching awkwardly on the chair beside you. "Do you need to sleep? How long have you been here?"

You swallowed, trying to form words. "I… I didn’t want to leave her side. And Darren… he—"

"I know," Gerard said softly, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. "I know. You’ve been holding so much in."

For a moment, there was silence. The distant beep of monitors, the low hum of fluorescent lights, the arguing of your brothers—it all faded into a kind of fragile quiet. And for the first time in a long while, someone cared about you just because you existed, not because it was expected or necessary.

Gibsie, who had been watching from across the room, noticed too. There was a softness in Gerard’s gaze that made your chest ache.

"Look," he said after a pause, his voice firmer but still gentle, "you don’t have to be strong all the time. You don’t have to carry this alone."