SEEKING 7 | boys of tommen

l o v e

"Are you seriously that stupid?" Lizzie's high-pitched snarl cut through my thoughts, her words sharp enough to make everyone at the table flinch.

"You okay?" Johnny leaned toward Shannon, his voice soft with concern.

"Yeah," she choked out, trying to hide how rattled she felt. She resisted the urge to press her hand to her chest, her face pale. "I just... wasn't expecting that."

Johnny whispered something to her, his eyes never leaving her face, and she nodded, forcing a smile, but it was clear Lizzie's outburst had shaken her.

Meanwhile, Lizzie was still fuming, her eyes locked on Gibsie with a glare that could cut glass. "Are you being for real?" she hissed, leaning across the table, her fork clutched in her hand like a weapon. "Or is this just another stupid joke to you?"

Gibsie sat back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, unfazed. "Relax," he huffed. "I was only asking a question."

"Well, ask good questions," Lizzie shot back, her tone icy as she shoved a forkful of salad into her mouth. She chewed with exaggerated slowness before continuing. "Not stupid ones that only make you look even stupider than you already are."

"Stupider isn't a word," Gibsie scoffed, rolling his eyes and then quickly glancing at Johnny for backup. "Right, Cap?"

Johnny shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable being dragged into the fight. "It's a comparative adjective, lad," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Gibsie blinked at him, clearly lost. "What?"

Johnny let out a sigh. "It's a word, Gibs."

"How is 'stupider' a word?" Gibsie demanded, throwing his hands up. "That just sounds stupid."

Johnny shrugged, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else but here. "I didn't make the rules."

"Maybe it was put in the dictionary to describe you," Lizzie said with a smirk, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "As in: Gerard Gibson is stupider than any person I have ever met."

Gibsie shot to his feet, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "That's it—I'm calling Father McCarthy to intervene on your behalf. You need an exorcism and Jesus."

Lizzie's eyes flared, her nostrils flaring. "And you need institutionalizing, you absolute idiot."

Gibsie's fists clenched, his face turning red with anger. "The whole fucking world isn't your punching bag," he shouted, his voice shaking. "I don't know who told you different, but they gave you some bad advice."

"Gerard—" Claire, who'd been sitting quietly next to Lizzie, tried to interject, her voice calm, but Gibsie wasn't having it.

"No, Claire," he snapped, grabbing his schoolbag from the floor, his eyes blazing with fury. "I'm done with taking her shit." He glared at Lizzie, disgust evident on his face. "You're a mean girl, Lizzie Young, and it astounds me that you managed to snag two decent girls to be friends with you."

Lizzie's face darkened, her lips curving into a sneer. "Astounds you? Wow, big word, Gibs. Can you spell that, too?"

"You know what?" Gibsie tossed his bag over his shoulder, his voice laced with contempt. "Fuck you, Lizzie." Without another word, he stormed out of the lunch hall, his back rigid with anger.

The table was dead silent for a moment, the tension thick. I stared at Lizzie, barely able to contain my frustration. "Are you happy with yourself?" I snapped, my eyes narrowing at her. "Did that make you feel good? Belittling him like that?"

Lizzie's expression hardened, her defenses going up. "He's a big boy," she retorted, her tone defiant. "He can take it."

Johnny, who had been quiet, finally spoke up, his voice low but firm. "He's dyslexic, Lizzie," he said sharply. "And you just made him feel about two feet tall in front of half the school."

Surprise flashed across Lizzie's face, her cheeks reddening with embarrassment. "I... I didn't know that."

"Well, now you do," I said, the words biting. "Well fucking done." Without waiting for her response, I stood up and hurried out of the cafeteria, determined to find Gibsie.

I checked everywhere—the toilets, the field behind the shed—but he was nowhere to be seen. My heart raced as I moved through the hallways, finally spotting an empty classroom with the door slightly ajar.

Inside, Gibsie was hunched over a desk, his head buried in his arms, his hands gripping his hair. I walked in quietly and sat down beside him, unsure of what to say at first.

"I don't know why she always has to use me as her personal fucking punching bag," he muttered, his voice muffled by his arms. "I'm pig sick of it now."

"Look at me," I said softly, but he shook his head, refusing. "Gerard Gibson, look at me now."

Reluctantly, he lifted his head, his eyes meeting mine. They were red and slightly puffy, filled with a mix of anger and hurt that twisted my heart.

"You need to ignore everything she says, I mean it," I said firmly, holding his gaze. "You're one of the smartest lads I've ever met, and I mean that. Fuck what she has to say."

He stared at me for a moment, and then a small, sad smile tugged at his lips. "Really?"

"Yeah," I nodded, my voice softening. "Hundred percent."

"I love you," he blurted out, the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them.

I froze for a second, caught off guard. "You love me?"

"Course I love you," he said, looking at me with sincerity in his eyes. "It's impossible not to. Although... we have a problem."

"What?" I asked, confused by the sudden shift in tone.

"Last week, while you were in hospital, Johnny got the green card."

"The green card?"

"Yeah, his dick works now," Gibsie explained, dead serious. "So, I go over the next morning—fucking early, like 5:45 AM—and guess what?"

I was already laughing, trying to keep up. "What?"

"I'm pregnant," he declared with a straight face.

I stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter, clutching my stomach as the absurdity of his words sank in. "Fuck off!" I laughed, my ribs aching. "You're insane."

"It's not funny, Aurora!" Gibsie protested, though his lips twitched with a smile. "It's serious."

"How'd this happen?" I asked between laughs.

"I sat on his gross, kid-filled tissue!" he exclaimed, rolling his eyes dramatically.

I wiped a tear from my eye, struggling to breathe from laughing so hard. "Jesus Christ, I'm dying here, Joker."

He sighed heavily, placing a hand on his stomach. "God, what if I have triplets? I can already feel them kicking."

"Alright, Mr. I'm Pregnant," I chuckled, getting up and pulling him with me. "We've got English next."

He threw his arm around me as we walked to class, his mood lightening with each step. When we sat down at the back, he draped his arm over my chair, his usual grin back in place.

"D'you wanna come over tonight?" he asked, glancing at me with a hopeful expression.

"What—really?"

"Yeah, course."

I smiled softly, the warmth of his offer sinking in. "Sure."

"We can use the cucumber I've got for our eyes and pamper ourselves," he added, grinning.

I laughed, shaking my head. "You're impossible."

And for the first time that day, things felt a little lighter.