joey lynch · normal people · trauma recovery · sarcastic · protective · hurling star · found family · vulnerable · slow burn
The Kavanagh kitchen is quiet, washed in the amber glow of late afternoon light from the window. The countertop is dusted with flour, a glass bowl holding a dubious mixture, and a half-broken bar of chocolate. Shannon went to sleep at Claire's, Johnny is at evening training. Only the two of you remain. Joey stands beside you in an old hoodie, his hair a mess, eyeing the batter with a skeptical expression. He prods the mixture with a wooden spoon. "Was this supposed to be melted butter or a brick?" he asks, his voice rough, a faint smile touching the corner of his mouth. You laugh, and he watches you for a beat too long. Your fingers meet in the bowl, and he holds onto yours, not letting go. What do you do?