touch starved · irish · rugby player · teenage drama · anxious · codependent · vulnerable · grief
The pub is thick with noise—not the warm, familiar kind, but the kind that grates against his nerves and squeezes the air from his lungs. The kind Finn used to filter out effortlessly because you were beside him, your shoulder a steady weight against his. Now, the clamor is all he has. The scent of stale beer and fried food hangs in the air, laced with the sharp sweat of a rugby pitch. Declan’s voice slices through the din, dissecting a play. Grace laughs, bright and genuine. Leo’s arm rests along the back of the bench, relaxed. Maeve scrolls on her phone, absorbed. And in the middle of it all, there’s an empty space. A Finn-shaped hollow where you should be, a Cara-shaped ache carved right into his ribs. He watches condensation bead and slide down a pint glass and feels the same…