𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐎𝐟 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧

Don't Give Up On Us

Orla stood in the dimly lit hallway of Joey's house, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. The walls felt like they were closing in on her, the weight of the moment pressing down on her chest. She had known it was coming. The tension in the air between them had been building for weeks, and now, here they were—on the edge of something they both feared but wanted so badly at the same time.

Joey was standing just a few steps away, his head slightly bowed, his shoulders tense. The way his fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt told Orla everything she needed to know. He was nervous, vulnerable in a way she had never seen him before. It made her heart ache, and a part of her wanted to close the distance between them, to reassure him, but she couldn't. Not yet.

She waited for him to speak, for the words she knew he was struggling to find. His voice broke the silence, barely more than a whisper.

"Can you do me a favor?" he asked, his tone shaky, raw. She could feel the weight of the question hanging in the air between them, pressing down like a thousand-pound stone.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she took a small step forward, a hesitant tremor in her hand. "W-what?" she replied, nearly as breathless as he sounded. It wasn't the question she had expected. There were so many things she thought he might ask her, but this—this left her heart pounding in her chest.

She couldn't help the pit that formed in her stomach. Something about the way he had asked, the way his voice faltered, told her it wasn't a simple favor. Whatever it was, it was big. Too big.

"I know you've been through a lot with me," Joey continued, his words coming out in ragged breaths. "And I don't deserve any of your patience. I don't deserve you. But..." He looked up at her then, his eyes bloodshot and tired, but there was something else—something more than the pain. Something desperate. "Don't give up on me, Orla. Please."

Her chest tightened, her heart cracking under the weight of his plea. Orla could feel the tears threatening to spill, but she held them back. She couldn't let herself fall apart now. Not when she needed to be strong for him.

"Joey..." Her voice was barely a whisper, as though speaking too loud would shatter the fragile moment between them.

"Don't give up on me," he repeated, this time more forcefully, his hand reaching for hers. His fingers brushed against hers, cold and shaking, but they lingered there, as if he was afraid she might pull away.

Orla could feel the conflict swirling inside her, pulling her in different directions. She had been there for him through the darkest parts of his life. She had helped him fight his demons, stood by him when everyone else had given up. But now... now, the darkness was starting to bleed into their relationship, and she didn't know how much more she could take.

"You're asking so much, Joey," she whispered, her voice cracking as the tears finally began to fall. "I don't know if I can keep doing this. You don't know how hard it's been—watching you struggle, watching you hurt, and feeling like I'm the only one trying to hold everything together."

Joey's face softened, his thumb gently brushing away a tear that had slipped down her cheek. "I don't want you to feel like you're the only one," he said softly. "I know I've messed up. I know I've hurt you, but I need you to understand something."

Orla closed her eyes, afraid to hear what was coming next.

"I'm not asking you to fix me," Joey continued, his voice low and earnest. "I'm just asking you to... stay. To not walk away. I know I've pushed you, and I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I can't lose you, Orla. Not now. Not after everything we've been through."

Her heart ached as she looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the pain in his eyes. She had always seen Joey as this tough, invincible guy—the one who never let anything break him. But here he was, vulnerable and raw, asking for something she hadn't expected.

Orla took a deep breath, her hands trembling as she reached out to him. "I'm not going anywhere," she said, her voice soft but firm. "But you need to help yourself, Joey. I can't carry us both. I need to know you're willing to fight for us, too. Not just for me, but for you. You can't keep running from this."

He nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving hers. "I will," he promised, his voice steady. "I will fight for you. For us."

For a long moment, they stood there, holding each other's gaze as the world around them seemed to fade away. Orla's heart still hurt, but now there was a quiet sense of relief, too. She wasn't alone in this anymore. Joey wasn't asking her to fix him. He was asking her to stand by him as he worked to fix himself.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

"I love you," she whispered, the words tumbling out of her before she could stop them.

Joey's face softened, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I love you too, Orla. And I won't mess this up. I promise."

She didn't know what the future would hold. She didn't know if everything would be perfect or if they would have to fight through more dark days together. But in this moment, she knew one thing for certain. They were in this together. And that was enough.

"Don't give up on us, Joey," she whispered once more, a promise of her own.

He squeezed her hand tightly, nodding. "I won't. I'll never give up on you."

And somehow, with that simple promise, Orla felt like everything would be okay. They had each other. And that was all they needed.