𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐎𝐟 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧

You Have To Go

Orla stood in front of him, the words he'd just spoken echoing in her ears, spinning in her head like an unrelenting storm. The air between them had thickened, heavy with the weight of his cryptic warning. Her chest tightened, her heart racing as she struggled to comprehend what he meant.

"You have to go while you still have the chance. You have to run away." His voice was strained, his eyes fixed on the floor, avoiding her gaze like he couldn't bear to see the confusion—and the hurt—in her eyes.

"Run away from what?!" Orla's voice was sharp, a mixture of anger and desperation slipping through her words. She threw her hands up in frustration, her feet shifting on the cold concrete floor beneath them. This was becoming too much. She was tired of his riddles, tired of the way he constantly tried to push her away.

She had been patient, understanding, even when he kept his distance, when his walls seemed higher than ever before. But now? Now, this was something else. This wasn't a wall. This was a demand. A command that she could never accept.

"From me." His whisper was so soft, so barely audible, that for a moment, Orla thought she'd imagined it. But when she looked up, she saw the turmoil in his eyes, the flicker of pain that twisted his features, and she knew it was real.

Her breath caught in her throat, a strange emptiness settling deep within her chest. "From you?" The words tasted bitter on her tongue, the realization hitting her like a slap across the face. "Why? What are you talking about, Joey?" She stepped forward, closer to him, but he didn't look at her, his gaze still avoiding her.

"I'm not good for you, Orla," he muttered, his voice trembling. "You don't deserve this. You don't deserve someone like me."

Orla's heart shattered at his words, but she wouldn't let him get away with it. She couldn't. She had to make him see the truth.

"Stop saying that." Her voice was firm now, even though her hands were shaking, her own emotions threatening to break free. "Don't you dare say that. You are good for me, Joey. You've always been good for me. Everything about you is good—your heart, your soul, everything." She took another step closer, her eyes searching his face, trying to catch his gaze, but he wouldn't look at her.

"I'm not the person you think I am," he whispered, his voice cracking. "You don't know the things I've done. The things I've said. You don't know the mess I am. If you did, you'd leave. You'd run far, far away, and you'd never look back."

Orla felt a lump form in her throat, the rawness of his words cutting deep. She knew there were things about Joey he kept hidden—things he never shared with anyone. He was always so guarded, so closed off when it came to his past. But she didn't care.

"I don't care about your past, Joey. I care about you. Right now. Here. With me." Her voice was quiet now, vulnerable, the edge of her anger melting into something softer, something that spoke of the love she had tried so hard to keep hidden. She reached for him, gently touching his arm, but he flinched away, a flicker of fear passing across his face.

"You have to run, Orla," he said again, his voice trembling. "I don't want to hurt you. I'm dangerous. You don't know what you're getting into."

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she felt the sting of his words in her chest. But then she took a deep breath, a surge of determination rising within her.

"I don't believe you," she said softly, her voice steady. "You're not dangerous, Joey. Not to me. You never will be. I know you're struggling. I know you've been through things I can't even begin to imagine, but I'm not running away. I'm not going anywhere."

Joey's shoulders slumped, and for the first time, he let his gaze meet hers. His eyes were filled with anguish, the pain he'd been hiding from her for so long now laid bare.

"Orla..." He reached for her, his hands trembling as he cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek. "You don't know what you're saying. You're too good for me. I don't want to drag you down into my mess."

Her heart pounded in her chest, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into his touch, her eyes never leaving his.

"I'm not too good for you, Joey," she whispered, her voice filled with quiet resolve. "I love you. I've loved you for a long time. And no matter what you think, I'm not running away. I'm here, and I'm staying. Whatever comes, we'll face it together."

For a long moment, there was silence between them. Joey stood frozen, his hands still cupping her face, his forehead pressed gently against hers as if he was afraid to let go, afraid that if he did, she would disappear.

"You don't have to do this alone," Orla murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Let me help you. Let me be there for you."

Joey closed his eyes, and she could feel the weight of his emotions, the years of pain and uncertainty, all flooding out in that single moment. Slowly, his hands slid to her shoulders, and he pulled her into a tight embrace, burying his face in her hair.

"I don't deserve you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "But I want you. I need you, Orla."

And in that moment, Orla realized that no matter how much he tried to push her away, no matter how many walls he built around himself, she wasn't going anywhere. She would fight for him, for them. She would stay by his side, no matter the storm they had to weather together.

"I'm not going anywhere, Joey," she repeated softly, her arms wrapping around him. "I'm right here."

And for the first time in a long while, Joey let himself believe it.