SKYFALL, Johnny Kavanagh

Don't go back there

Maeve's Point of View

The hum of the bus had settled into something steady.
Familiar.
Hypnotic.

I didn't remember closing my eyes.

One second, I was watching the rain trace slow rivers down the window.
The next, the world faded to black.

No dreams.
Just quiet.

Not the kind of quiet that screams – not the kind filled with echoes of things I couldn't outrun – but stillness.
Weightless and soft.
Like I'd finally laid down something heavy and hadn't picked it back up.

For once, I didn't dream about blood on the tiles or the smell of antiseptic.
I didn't dream about Tadhg's tiny voice asking why I was shaking.
I didn't see Marie's hands or Teddy's shadow in the hallway.
I didn't hear Joey shouting from downstairs.

There was nothing.

Just peace.

When I opened my eyes again, the first thing I saw was a shoulder.

A familiar one – broad, warm, slightly rumpled beneath his school jacket.

Johnny.

His arm was still slung over the back of the seat, but at some point, I'd tilted toward him.
Rested against him.
Fully.

My cheek had found his shoulder like it belonged there.
My hand had somehow ended up curled between us, knuckles brushing his chest.

He was still.
Breathing slow.
And then his voice – quiet, careful – cut through the haze. "Hey."

I blinked again, groggy. "What time is it?"

"We're here."

I straightened a little too fast, the sudden rush of cold air biting at my neck.
The bus had stopped.
Through the window, I could see a gravel car park and a low building in the distance — Donegal College's pitch house, already busy with students.

Shit.

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and cleared my throat. "How long was I out?"

"About an hour." Johnny said. "You snored, by the way."

I scoffed. "I did not."

"Sure." He said, fighting a grin. "Whatever you say, Sunshine."

I rolled my eyes, but the corners of my mouth twitched anyway.

I didn't tell him that was the best sleep I'd had in weeks.

Didn't tell him I felt like my body had finally remembered what rest was – real rest, not the drugged kind, not the shaking aftermath of something I couldn't name.
Just warmth.
Breath.
Silence.

He stood, stretching his back.
His jacket rustled as he pulled it tighter. "Come on, everyone's unloading. I've got to go meet Coach."

I nodded, still blinking myself back into coherence.

Outside, the bus door clattered open and a wave of cold air rushed in.
I grabbed my coat from the seat beside me, pulling it over my head as Johnny stepped into the aisle.

He hesitated before heading toward the front. "I'll sort Shannon's lift back after the game. You don't need to worry about it."

I looked up at him. "You sure?"

"Yeah." His tone was final, but not harsh. Just certain.

My throat felt tight again.

"Thanks." I said.