53 partes Concluida 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.
