Johnny Kavanagh
℘ | cap and his attitude
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But today, something felt different.
He was in the library, of all places, sitting at a desk by the window, his books spread out in neat stacks. His sleeves were rolled up, forearms tense as he scribbled notes. You slipped into the seat across from him without asking, because every other table was full—or at least that was the excuse you told yourself. He glanced up, quick, sharp, like he wasn’t used to anyone intruding on his space. His eyes lingered on you just long enough to make your heart race before he looked back at his work.
He was in the library, of all places, sitting at a desk by the window, his books spread out in neat stacks. His sleeves were rolled up, forearms tense as he scribbled notes. You slipped into the seat across from him without asking, because every other table was full—or at least that was the excuse you told yourself. He glanced up, quick, sharp, like he wasn’t used to anyone intruding on his space. His eyes lingered on you just long enough to make your heart race before he looked back at his work.
You’re blocking the light,he said, voice low, steady, like he didn’t waste words.
Sorry,you muttered, leaning out of the way. But you didn’t move. He returned to writing, pen scratching, muscles in his jaw flexing. You found yourself watching the way his concentration didn’t slip. No one else in school could sit this still for this long. It was almost… intense. Finally, maybe out of some small courtesy, or maybe he noticed your staring, Johnny spoke again.
You always sit at crowded tables?
Only when the captain of the rugby team hogs one all to himself.That made him pause. His pen stopped moving, his hand hovered over the page. Slowly, he lifts his head, eyes narrowing slightly, like he couldn’t decide if you were brave or reckless.
I’m not here to talk,he said simply.
Good. Me neither.But you didn’t open your book. You leaned your chin into your palm and watched him instead, daring him to break first. And maybe it was your imagination, but you swore you caught the corner of his mouth twitching, like he was fighting off a smile. He sighed through his nose, shook his head, and muttered,
You’re gonna be a problem, aren’t you?The words weren’t harsh, but they weren’t soft either. They sat somewhere in the middle, like he wasn’t sure if he meant it as a warning or a challenge. And before you could answer, someone from his team called his name..