Hughie Biggs. The love of my bloody life. The fella I swore I'd grow old with, get a ring on my finger from, have the big church wedding, the lot. I used to lie awake at night and picture his hand in mine, picture his laugh bouncing off the walls of our kitchen. Back then, I didn't have the faintest clue about the way the world could chew you up and spit you out. I remember us when we were younger, before everything went sour. When Caoimhe was still alive, when her laugh could still fill a room. When I still had friends-real ones, the kind you'd sit on the green with till it got dark, passing a bag of crisps around, talking rubbish and thinking it meant the world. Back then, we were untouchable, or so we thought. But nothing lasts, does it? Not love, not family, not even friendship. Everything rots eventually, like fruit left out too long. Secrets crawl their way to the surface no matter how deep you bury them, and when they do, they choke you. That's what happened to me. That's what happened to Hughie. The truth came crawling, and it ruined everything. So I've made up my mind. I can't stay here, not in this cursed town, not walking the same streets where his hand used to brush mine, where Caoimhe used to skip beside me, where I laughed like I actually believed in tomorrow. It's all poisoned now. Every corner, every memory, every face that looks at me like they know more than they should. I'm leaving. For good this time. I'll pack a bag, take nothing but what I can carry, and I'll vanish before anyone can stop me. No goodbyes, no explanations. Just gone. Because the truth is, there's nothing left here for me anymore-only ghosts, and I've had enough of them to last me a lifetime.

Brendan Clearly. He was the lad I liked since I was barely out of pigtails, the one who never slagged me off when the rest of the boys thought it was gas. He was different. Always smiling, always asking me if I'd eaten, like some little mammy trapped in a seventeen-year-old fella's body. It sounds stupid, but those tiny things kept me going. And then I went and wrecked it. Not just with him-no, I managed to shatter it with all of them. My friends, the ones who made the halls feel less lonely, the ones who kept me tethered here when the world felt too heavy. Gone. Because of me. Just a mistake, that's all it was, but a mistake that cost me everything. And now when I see him across the yard, laughing with the others, it's like a knife. He doesn't even look my way. And I deserve that, don't I? *** Caoimhe Kavanagh. Once upon a time she was my best mate. The kind of girl you'd sit on a wall with for hours, talking about nothing and everything. She was soft, kind, never the type to go looking for trouble. But now? I hardly recognise her. She's gone cold, sharp, always hanging 'round with that crowd-the type of people you know are only bad news. Ciggies tucked in their sleeves, mouths full of poison. And she's right there in the middle of it, like she belongs to them now. Part of me wants to write her off, tell myself she's not the Caoimhe I knew. That girl's dead and gone. But... I can't. I remember too much. The way she used to laugh, the way she'd defend you even when you were being a gobshite, the way she cared more than she ever let on. That's still inside her, I swear it is. I don't care how hard she tries to hide behind the mask she's wearing now-I know my friend is in there somewhere. And I'll drag her back if I have to. Because she's worth it.

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓, 21 years old, just moved back to her local hometown in LA looking for babysitting jobs which is what she loves to do. 𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐒 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆, 25 years old, most feared man in his city and owns the #1 biggest Mafia in the country. Having a five- year old daughter (Luna) and running a Mafia and Empire is hard work so he finds a babysitter. What will happen when Thea starts to babysit Luna? - 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄.

Finn Gibson. Number seven on the rugby team. A gentleman, proper like. Always opening doors and saying things like "after you" and "you alright there?" in this soft voice that somehow makes you feel seen. He's funny too - not the show-off type of funny, more the kind where you're halfway through laughing before you realise it was even a joke. Real clever wit, quiet like. It's not fair, honestly. And he drums, like actually properly drums, not just tapping out rhythms on the school desk like every other lad in Tommen. He's in a band and all. Do I like him? Yeah. I like him loads. More than I should. But this isn't that kind of story. I come from a house where everything's heavy. Where things crack and break and no one says sorry. Where nice things don't last, and if you want something - really want something - it gets used against you. You don't let your heart out in a place like mine. You learn to nod and keep quiet and do what Da says, even when you hate it, even when it's wrong. That's just how it is. So when Finn looks at me like I matter - really, properly matter - I want to believe it. I want to tell him I think about him when I fall asleep. So yeah. I like Finn Gibson. But liking someone like him... it feels like trying to hold light in your hand. Beautiful. Impossible. *** Mina O'Neill. Jesus, I don't even know where to start with her. She's the most beautiful human being I've ever seen in my life, and I mean that with my whole chest. She moves like she doesn't even touch the ground. A ballerina, and not the stuck-up kind either. She's always working, always rehearsing, and when she talks about dance, it's like watching someone light up from the inside. And me? I'm just... me. Watching her from the side of things. Hoping. I think she knows. I know she knows. She's not daft. But there's something holding her back. I don't know what. Maybe it's me. Maybe it's something in her life I don't see. But I'm not giving up.

𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐑𝐀 𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐖𝐘𝐍 wears pain like a second skin. It's all she's ever known, etched into her bones, buried beneath forced smiles and hollow laughter. A walking contradiction: all sin and sorrow, smoke and shadows. Once passionate, once burning bright, now nothing but ash and ruin. She pretends well, too well, but behind the sharp tongue and unbothered eyes lies a girl screaming to be seen, yet terrified someone actually might. 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍 was born into a world already at war with him. Pain wasn't just a chapter in his life, it was the whole book. Raised in shadows, fed by poison, his lungs filled with smoke and silence. He never asked for love. He never believed he deserved it. Drugs kept the demons quiet. Cigarettes kept his hands busy. Until her. The only good card he's ever been dealt, fragile, feral, and just as broken as him. Together, Liora and Ares are destruction wrapped in desire. A love not meant to be touched, yet impossible to resist. It's messy. Chaotic. Addictive. The kind of love that tastes like sin and feels like home. It's the kind of love that leaves scars, and still, they keep reaching for each other, again and again. What happens when two shattered souls try to build something whole out of ruin?

Conor Kavanagh. The heartthrob of Tommen College. The biggest playboy in the school - cocky smirk, rugby jersey practically sewn onto him, always with a smart comment and that maddening wink. He's friendly, charming, flirty as hell. The kind of lad who'd carry your bag for you and somehow make it seem like your idea. But don't let that fool you - he's trouble. All sharp jawlines and swagger. And somehow, he's decided I'm his next bloody charity case. I hate it. I hate how he shows up when I don't ask, how he looks at me like I'm breakable. I don't need saving - I've got it sorted. The drink, the pills, the temper - all of it. My mess, not his. And every time I tell him to back off, to leave me be, he just gets closer, like I'm speaking in code. I don't need his pity or his perfect face. I don't need him. So why does part of me keep hoping he'll show up again tomorrow? *** Sinead Biggs. The reigning queen of Tommen. Sharp-tongued, sharp-eyed, and terrifying in heels. Everyone thinks she's just Cath's little sister - until she opens her gob and makes half the school cry before lunch. She walks those halls like she owns them, and honestly? She kind of does. The lads are scared of her. The girls want to be her. And me? I'm hopelessly, pathetically into her. Everyone knows it. My mates won't shut up about it. Even when she's tearing strips off me with that mouth of hers, I'm there grinning like a gobshite. Because deep down, I remember. I remember when we used to be best friends. When she used to laugh like a lunatic at my stupid jokes, when her hand would brush mine and neither of us would move away. But then came Owen Rice - the prick. Then came that night. The accident. The hospital. And when she came back, she wasn't the same. She'd built up walls with barbed wire. She'd become someone colder, louder, crueler. But I still see her. The girl I knew. And every once in a while, when no one's looking, I think she sees me too.

Clionagh Biggs bright presence lights up every room, even as she channels her father's razor‑sharp intellect and talent in sport toward a future in medicine. Driven by radiant optimism and honed skills-on the camogie pitch and in the lab-Clionagh is determined to don the white coat and carry forward her father's healing legacy. She always seems cool calm and collected, but there's one person who can tick her off even in her most zen moments. As the son of a famed rugby legend, Rory Kavanagh inherits his father's raw athletic power-but he's also burdened by a simmering rage at a world he feels has wronged him. His bone‑crushing tackles on the pitch mirror his inner fury, and every day he teeters on the edge between letting his anger consume him or forging it into the drive that could become his greatest victory. Clionagh and Rory used to be inseparable-her sunshine to his storm. But with big names to live up to and pressure mounting, friendship gave way to resentment. Now they can't stand each other. Yet when their worlds collide again, they realize they have more in common than they ever wanted to admit-and maybe more to lose than they thought.

He didn't believe in second chances. She didn't believe in people. Tadgh Lynch had spent most of his life angry. Angry at his father. Angry at himself. Angry at a world that didn't stop burning even after everything he loved had already gone up in smoke. Now sixteen, living under someone else's roof, wearing the number 11 stitched into the back of his jersey, he was still trying to outrun a ghost with his mother's eyes and a monster's voice. Everyone in Tommen knew who he was - the hothead with a rugby number and a bruised knuckle, the smile that meant trouble, the boy who never stayed long enough to get hurt. Flora Feely? She didn't care. Quiet, awkward, sharp as broken glass when she spoke, Flora had mastered the art of staying unnoticed. It was easier that way. People couldn't leave if they never really saw you. And she was tired - tired of silence in her house, tired of being Patrick Feely's little sister, tired of pretending her heart hadn't gone cold the day her father walked out and her mam didn't ask him to stay. She didn't plan on noticing Tadgh Lynch. He didn't plan on needing her. But sometimes the fire in you recognizes the fire in someone else - and it doesn't matter how much you try to smother it. It burns anyway.

Alexia Biggs is everything they say she is - brilliant, brutal, and built like armor. With perfect grades and a sharper mouth, she's feared more than she's liked at Tommen College. She doesn't care. She doesn't need anyone's approval. What no one knows - not her classmates, not even her closest friends - is that Alexia has bipolar disorder. The only people who know are her parents, and that's exactly how she wants it. What no one suspects is that the coldest girl in school spends her nights behind the wheel in Cork's underground racing scene, where she trades control for speed and silence for smoke. AJ Lynch has been the talk of Tommen for as long as anyone can remember. With a dangerous grin and a don't-care swagger, he's known for wild nights, bad decisions, and a magnetic charm that gets him out of almost anything. But behind the easy confidence is a boy raised under pressure - the son of a legacy family, the center of every room, the guy who's expected to have it all figured out when he barely knows who he is. The only place he feels real is behind the wheel. Racing is the one thing he doesn't fake - where it's just him, the road, and the roar in his chest that finally makes sense. Alexia and AJ have never gotten along. Not when they were kids, not now. They've spent their whole lives circling each other like fire and gasoline - sharp words, eye-rolls, tension so thick it chokes. At school, they pretend the other doesn't exist. On the streets, they race like their rivalry is life or death. But when two people are hiding everything and fighting everyone, sometimes the only person who truly sees you is the one you can't stand. And the more time they spend in the same lanes, the harder it becomes to deny the truth under all that tension: the looks linger too long. The fights hit too hard. And somewhere in all the chaos, hate stops being the loudest thing between them.

Cover by @_jenxkiss Two broken souls. One school task. Can Tadhg and Saoirse put aside their doubts about each other and get along?