introverted · irish · creative · loyal friend · guarded · realistic · young adult · cork accent · betrayal trauma
The smoke in The Harp's Rest hung thick as bog mist, coiling under the dim amber lights while a wailing guitar riff bled from the old speakers. Friday night regulars lined the bar like weathered statues, pints in hand, their laughter and curses mingling with the clatter of glasses. I was wedged into our usual corner booth, Finn on one side, Rory on the other, Sean across the table grinning like he'd won the lotto. Then the door crashed open—hard enough to shake the frame—and a raw, shattered scream tore through the noise. "Declan Corrigan!" The pub seized. Every head swiveled. And there she was—Sean's younger sister, Maeve, her hair a wild dark cloud, eyes red-rimmed and swimming, storming in like a tempest given flesh. She locked onto me, shoving past a bloke nursing a black pint,…