SKYFALL, Johnny Kavanagh

Eldest middle child

Maeve's Point of View

At some point, Johnny got up to stretch, rolling his shoulder with a wince before grabbing another snack from the counter.

"You want tea?" he asked, already reaching for the kettle.

"I always want tea."

He nodded like he'd expected that and filled the kettle, moving a little slower than usual.
I watched him from the corner of my eye, noting the way he leaned against the counter like it took some of the weight off his leg.

Definitely not just soreness.

He made the tea and handed me a mug before settling back into his chair.
I exhaled slowly, my grip tightening on the mug.
I could get used to this.

"Alright." Johnny finally said, breaking the silence. "We've made decent progress. You want to take a break?"

I blinked, glancing at my notes.
We had gotten through more than I thought. "Yeah, okay."

He smirked, standing up. "Good. Because you look like your brain is about to short-circuit."

I scowled. "It's called concentrating, Boy Wonder."

"Yeah, yeah. Come on, let's sit on the couch before you burn a hole through that page."

I rolled my eyes but followed him into the living room. He flopped onto the couch like he belonged there – which, to be fair, he did – and stretched his arms over the backrest.

I sat at the other end, curling my legs underneath me and holding onto my tea.
Now that I wasn't focused on schoolwork, I was more aware of my body again – the dull throb of bruises under my hoodie.

Johnny must've caught something in my expression because his smirk faded slightly.

I shifted, pulling my legs up onto the couch, fingers tightening around my mug. My ribs protested the movement, but I ignored it, just like I ignored the way Johnny kept stretching his leg, wincing when he thought I wasn't looking.

We sat in silence for a moment, the only sound coming from the rain hammering against the windows. It had gotten worse since I arrived, the wind howling lowly outside.

"Your house is too quiet." I muttered.

Johnny raised an eyebrow, stretching his arm across the back of the couch. "You want me to put the radio on or something?"

"That's not what I meant." I said, shaking my head. "It's just empty."

He smirked. "Are you calling my house depressing, Sushine?"

I shrugged, taking another sip of tea. "I'm just saying it doesn't look lived in."

Johnny hummed, tapping his fingers idly against the couch cushion.
He was doing a good job of looking relaxed, but I wasn't an idiot.
I had seen the way he kept shifting, adjusting, stretching his leg like he was trying to work out some invisible discomfort.
He thought he was being subtle.
He wasn't.

Still, he didn't acknowledge it.

Instead, he exhaled and said, "My parents aren't home much."

I glanced at him over the rim of my mug. "Where are they?"

Johnny hesitated. "Mam's in Dublin. Has been for a couple of weeks. Work stuff."

"And your dad?"

"In court." His tone was casual, but there was something off about it.

"So, what?" I tilted my head. "You just live here by yourself?"

Johnny didn't even blink. "Pretty much. The housekeeper comes by during the week, and they check in, but yeah. It's mostly just me."