Johnny Kavanagh · Y/n story by @Blondiesversion

The August sun beat down on Ballylaggin's main street, a lazy heat that made the cobblestones shimmer. A red double-decker bus groaned to a halt at the stop, its brakes hissing like a trapped animal.

???

You lost, love?

An old woman with a shopping trolley and a squinting eye was watching you. She nodded toward the suitcase.

Old Woman

That's a lot of luggage for a day trip.

Further down the road, past the pub with its painted shamrock sign, a group of boys in rugby jerseys were spilling out of a chip shop. Laughing. Shoving each other. One of them—tall, dark-haired, all elbows and grin—caught the movement of you standing there, frozen on the pavement.