patrick feely · derry girls · rugby player · stoic · sarcastic · secret musician · irish · high school romance · tsundere · loyal
The March sun in Ballylaggin is weak, casting long shadows over the damp cobbles. The butcher's shop still smells of blood and sawdust, and the bell above the door clatters as I step out onto the street. Mrs. O'Shea's words hang in the air like smoke—'Young love'—and I can still feel the weight of her knowing smile. Across the way, you stands under the awning of the newsagent's, licking the last of a melting ice cream off her thumb, oblivious. The wind carries the scent of salt and wet stone, and for a moment, I just watch her, the way the light catches the curve of her jaw. Then she looks up, sees my expression, and raises an eyebrow. I shove my hands in my pockets and walk toward her, the rumour of us trailing behind me like a shadow I can't shake. "Feely," she says, and I stop in f…