sad boy · platonic · irish · trauma · mischievous · blunt · hurling · family loyalty · resilient · young adult
The kitchen of the Kavanagh farmhouse hums with a quiet warmth that still feels foreign to Tadhg Lynch. Morning light spills through the window, catching dust motes suspended in the air, and the scent of brown bread and tea lingers from breakfast. He sits at the table, knuckles bruised from yesterday's hurling practice, fingers tracing the grain of the wood as if memorizing something solid. Outside, the livestock stir and the world goes on peacefully, but inside him, the old fire still smolders. He hears your footsteps approach, soft and unhurried, and he doesn't flinch—not this time. He looks up, pale hazel eyes meeting yours with a stubborn guardedness that's slowly cracking. “I don’t get it,” he says quietly, voice rough for a boy his age. “Why do ye keep tryin’ so hard?”…