SKYFALL, Johnny Kavanagh

No use in pretending

Maeve's Point of View

The pancakes were objectively ugly.

I could admit that.

Half of them were vaguely circular, but the first few looked like the kind of abstract art that would make an art critic weep.
One was shaped like an unfortunate cow, another had somehow developed what looked like horns, and at least two had fused together into some sort of mutant pancake hybrid.

But no one was dead yet, so I was counting this as a win.

Gibsie, however, was staring at his plate like I'd personally wronged him.

"This one is frowning at me." He whispered, prodding at the particularly misshapen one on top of his stack.

I reached across the table, picked it up, and slapped it directly onto his face.

He let out a muffled shriek before peeling it off dramatically and slapping it back onto his plate like he was disgusted with it. "I take it back. This is the best pancake I've ever had."

Johnny smirked, biting into his own stack. "Could've just eaten it like a normal person instead of making it a theatrical event."

"This is an event." Gibsie argued, waving a fork around.

I sighed, dragging a hand down my face. "Please shut up."

"I won't. I refuse. I will be telling everyone about this."

Johnny raised a brow. "Define everyone."

"The team. The school. The county." He took an obnoxious bite of pancake. "Future generations."

I groaned. "I hope you get food poisoning."

Gibsie perked up. "Wait, is that a real possibility?"

I smirked. "Who's to say?"

His face dropped. "Oh no."

Johnny snorted into his tea. "You'll be fine. Worst case scenario, you get a dramatic stomach-ache and milk it for sympathy."

"I knew you were trying to poison me." Gibsie muttered, pushing his plate an inch away like that would make a difference. "This is how it ends. Death by emotionally symbolic pancakes."

"I told you I was being nice." I said, sipping my tea innocently.

"That's what serial killers say before they strike."

Gibsie was still eyeing his plate like it was plotting his demise.

I rolled my eyes, grabbing my mug. "If you're done being a drama queen, I should probably head out."

Both of them stilled.

Johnny set his tea down, expression shifting just slightly. "You don't have to rush off."

I forced a smirk. "Oh, so now I'm welcome? Pretty sure last night I was accused of being a Monopoly tyrant and an agent of chaos."

"You are an agent of chaos." Gibsie said, recovering fast. "And a terrifying landlord. But I'm willing to overlook that if it means you stay and cook again."

"I'm taking that as a compliment." I said, pushing back from the table. "But I've already overstayed my welcome."

Johnny frowned. "Maeve."

"I mean it." I cut in, keeping my tone light. "Thanks for letting me stay, but I should get back."

I didn't want to go.
I really didn't want to go.

Not because I was tired or because it had been nice here – though both were true – but because I knew what was waiting.
I could already feel the bruises before they came.
I could already hear Teddy's voice, venom-laced and slurred, see the way his eyes would narrow, the fury barely masked under thin restraint.

All because of a stupid picture in a stupid paper.
One second of me smiling next to Johnny, and now I'd have to pay for it in blood.

Still, what was the alternative?
Stay here forever?
As much as my traitorous heart wanted that, I knew better than to believe I could.

But it wasn't like I had a choice.
Teddy had seen the paper.
Joey had warned me.

And if I didn't go back now, it'd just be worse when I did.

I stretched my arms above my head, forcing a yawn. "But before I go, can I use your shower again?"

That snapped Johnny out of whatever thoughts he was having. "Yeah, of course."

I nodded, glancing at Gibsie. "I also used your washing machine last night for Niamh's stuff, so don't let your little sidekick steal it before I get to it."

"Sidekick?" Gibsie gasped. "Excuse you. I am the main character here."

I snorted. "Right, of course."

"You're wearing those clothes again today?" Johnny asked.

"Yep. They're clean now. And I'll give you your shirt back too – and your hoodie. Or should I say hoodies, plural. I think I've accumulated three at this point."

"You can keep one." Johnny said quietly, almost like he hadn't meant to say it aloud.

I paused, blinking at him. "What?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "One of the hoodies. Keep it. I don't care."

I tried to smother the strange flutter in my chest. "Which one?"

He shrugged. "Whichever one you like best."

I opened my mouth, ready with some kind of sarcastic response, but nothing came out.
Johnny just said it so casually.
Like it was nothing.
Like it didn't mean anything at all.

But it did.

Because people didn't give me things.
And if they did, they usually wanted something in return.
I swallowed, pushing the thought down before it could spiral.

"Well." I said, forcing a smirk. "I do look better in your clothes than you do."

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Delusional."

Gibsie perked up. "Wait, wait, wait – I want a hoodie."

"You have your own." Johnny said flatly.

"Yes, but do I have one of yours?" Gibsie gestured wildly between us. "She gets to keep one, but I don't? This is favouritism, Johnny. This is betrayal."

Johnny ignored him. "Go shower before Gibsie starts crying."

"I might." Gibsie muttered.

I snorted, shaking my head as I grabbed my bag and started toward the hallway. "Thanks. For letting me stay."

"Anytime, Sunshine."

I hated that I believed him.
I turned quickly before I did something stupid – like ask if he actually meant it.

By the time I got to the bathroom, my hands were shaking.
I turned the shower on, letting the sound fill the space before I sat down on the edge of the tub and buried my face in my hands.

This was stupid.
I was being stupid.

Because for two days, I'd almost let myself pretend that this was normal.
That I could just exist here, in this house, with these people who had no real reason to care about me.

That I could be something more than just temporary.
I squeezed my eyes shut, inhaling slowly.

One more deep breath.
Then another.

Then I stood up and pulled Johnny's shirt over my head, pushing every thought away with it.

Because it didn't matter.
Because I already knew how this today was going to end.
And pretending otherwise wouldn't change a damn thing.