SEEKING 7 | boys of tommen

f a m i l y

I had barely sent Gibsie home to shower and change—he had been so adamant about staying by my side, refusing to leave for anything. The lad was exhausted, though. I could see it in the way his shoulders slumped, his eyes dull with worry. He needed rest, even if he didn't think so.

Finally, I had a moment of peace. The steady beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound in the room, a comforting rhythm that reminded me I was still here, still breathing. I let out a long breath, trying to relax, when two soft knocks came from the door.

Before I could respond, the door opened, and Johnny walked in. He looked like he hadn't slept in ages. Dark circles hung under his eyes, his clothes wrinkled, and there was a weariness in the way he moved that made my heart ache.

"Mr. Kavanagh," I greeted with a smile, trying to lighten the heavy air in the room. He gave me a tired half-smile as he closed the door quietly behind him and made his way to the chair beside my bed. His eyes met mine, and for a moment, we just sat there in silence.

Finally, he sighed and spoke, his voice quiet and strained. "I'm so sorry, Aurora."

I frowned, confused by the guilt in his tone. "What for?"

He shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through his messy hair. "I left you in that house. I didn't even know you were still in there, and I should've checked. I should've done more. I'm so—"

"Johnny, stop," I cut him off, shaking my head as a small smile tugged at my lips. "I couldn't give two shits about that. You saved my four siblings, and I couldn't be more thankful."

His face tightened with guilt, his brow furrowing as he looked down at his hands. "I just... I feel so bleedin' guilty, Aurora. I left Marie in there too, and now she's gone."

The pain in his voice was palpable, raw. It twisted something deep inside me, but I couldn't let him carry that weight. Not when I knew how much he had already done to save my family.

"Don't you dare blame yourself, Johnny," I said firmly, narrowing my eyes at him. "Or I swear to God, I'll jab this IV straight into your eyeball."

He chuckled softly, though the sadness in his eyes remained. "That's some tough love right there."

"I'm serious," I pressed, my tone softening. "What happened wasn't your fault. None of it was. You did everything you could, and you got my siblings out of that house. You saved them."

He nodded, though he didn't look convinced. His eyes flickered to the window, as if he were searching for some kind of answer in the empty hospital parking lot below. "I just... I keep thinking, what if I had gone back in? What if I'd checked one more time? Marie might still be alive, and you—"

"Johnny, stop torturing yourself," I interrupted again, my voice gentler this time. I reached over, taking his hand in mine. It was rough and calloused, trembling slightly as he squeezed my fingers. "You can't think like that. None of us saw this coming. You did everything you could, and more than anyone could've asked. You were a hero that night."

He looked at me, his eyes glassy, and for a moment, I thought he might break down. But Johnny wasn't the type to let anyone see his weakness. He swallowed hard and nodded, taking a deep breath.

We sat in silence for a moment, the weight of everything hanging in the air between us. The loss, the grief, the guilt—none of it was easy, but sitting here with him, sharing the quiet, made it feel a little less suffocating.

"Thanks, Aurora," he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. "You're stronger than you look, you know that?"

I smirked, trying to lighten the mood. "I'll take that as a compliment, Mr. Kavanagh."

"I'm back, and I come bearing gifts!" Gibsie announced dramatically, pushing the door open with his back, his arms occupied by a large cardboard box.

I couldn't help but smile at his entrance. His voice, his presence—it brought a bit of warmth into the sterile, cold hospital room.

"Not this gobshite again," Johnny teased, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation.

Gibsie shot him a look of exaggerated offense. "Excuse me, Jonathan, but these gifts are for my princess here. My mam sent loads of goodies from the bakery—donuts, croissants—you name it, it's in this box," he grinned, plopping the box down on the foot of my bed with a sense of accomplishment.

I laughed softly, the sound coming out weaker than I intended, but it felt good to laugh. Gibsie always had that effect on me, even in the worst of times.

Johnny stood up from the chair, stretching his tired limbs. "I'll leave you two to it," he said, the exhaustion still evident in his voice. "The, ah... funeral's Monday, so I'll see if they wanna come see you tomorrow night or after, 'kay?"

I swallowed hard at the mention of the funeral. It still didn't feel real. "Okay," I whispered, my voice soft. As Johnny started to head toward the door, I called out to him. "Johnny?"

He turned back, his hand already on the doorknob. "Yeah?"

"Thank you," I said, my voice a little stronger now, hoping he knew how much I truly meant it.

Johnny gave me a small, lopsided smile, the kind that didn't quite reach his eyes but still held warmth. "Of course, Miss Lockheart," he teased, with a mock salute, before walking out of the room.

As the door clicked shut behind him, the room felt lighter, though the looming shadow of the funeral and everything it represented still lingered. Gibsie sat down beside me, his usual carefree grin on his face as he started pulling pastries out of the box like it was some sort of treasure chest.

"Don't you worry about anything for a bit," he said, handing me a croissant. "We're going to stuff our faces with baked goods and forget about the world for a while."

I smiled at him, taking the croissant and biting into it. The flaky pastry melted in my mouth, and for a brief moment, it did exactly what Gibsie promised—it made everything else fade away.

He leaned back in his chair, watching me with a satisfied look. "I told you I'd always take care of you, didn't I?"

"Yeah," I said, my voice soft as I glanced over at him. "You did."

And somehow, despite everything that had happened, sitting there with him, I believed it.