Chapter Text
In order to understand what happens next, a look at what happened first, on a night almost two years previous:
It’s the summer after sophomore year, and Kiara doesn’t recognize herself.
She’s standing in front of a full-length mirror, checking herself over in a last minute fit of anxiety before leaving for midsomers, when she realizes that the girl looking back at her might just be one she’s never seen before.
She’s been dreading the event for weeks, but no amount of pleading has gotten her parents to budge. She’ll be there, and that’s that.
She had half expected them to let it slide, just this once— after all, she had spent the past year doing everything they ever wanted her to. She allowed them to send her to private school, made friends with all the kooks she could, and stopped hanging around anyone who even resembles a Pogue.
If anything, though, her newfound obedience has only made her parents more firm on their stance.
They want to show off the fact that she’s finally fallen into her place, to prove to the world that enough well-reasoned conversations— or, in their case, loud screaming matches— could bring even the most rebellious child back from the brink.
She sighs deeply, steeling herself as well as she can for the next few hours. Making mindless small talk with even more mindless people has never been easy for her, but for once, it’s not them she’s dreading.
Because even though the place will be totally overrun with kooks, they aren’t the only ones that’ll be in attendance.
The midsommar party is the one night a year where all the richest people on the island get drunk at the same time.
Coincidentally enough, it’s also the one night a year that sees countless Pogues fighting for the chance to hand out champagne and finger food, all in the name of good old fashioned tipping etiquette.
Three pogues in particular are known to work the event every year without fail, and those three names are more frightening to Kiara than the entire guest list combined.
John B. Routledge, JJ Maybanks, and Pope Heyward.
There’s no doubt in her mind that all three of them will be in attendance tonight. She’s spent every year before this clinging to them all night, and she has no idea how to survive the gruesome event without them.
She doesn’t know what she’ll do if they approach her. She would certainly deserve whatever they have to say to her, but she’s not sure she can face it.
Not when she misses them so much it aches , keeping her up at night feeling sick with regret.
She never wanted to lose them.
It’s hypocritical and she knows it, considering that she was the one to cut ties, but it’s the truth. Those boys were her family in every way that mattered, and they always had been.
They saw her as she was, rather than being blinded by who she could become.
She loved them all, and she knows that they had loved her too, at least as much as emotionally stunted sixteen year old boys could love her. The problem is that even now, after a year of tension and silence and avoidance, she still loves them.
She’s not sure they could say the same about her.
She closes her eyes, breathing deeply in an effort to ground herself. She hears her door open, but keeps her eyes shut.
There’s the soft sound of footsteps on her carpet, and then seemingly out of nowhere, a pair of arms loops gently around her waist. Even though she hadn’t been expecting it, she doesn’t so much as twitch, because she knows exactly who it is.
It’s the one person who makes all of this— the fakeness, the isolation, and the unrecognizable girl in the mirror— bearable. She sighs softly and leans into the gentle touch, grateful for the momentary comfort.
“Still thinking about tonight?” The girl behind her asks quietly, worry evident in her tone.
She nods wordlessly, forcing herself to slowly open her eyes.
What she sees when she does makes her knees weak– how could it not, when Sarah Cameron is such a sight to behold?
The pink dress she’s wearing appears to be made out of pure silk, and with the way it hugs her waist just right, it’s clear that it’s been tailored to her exact measurements.
Her hair is set in loose waves, falling over her shoulders in a perfectly careless way, and her makeup is light and stunning in a way that’s so her that Kie feels the sudden need to sit down.
But like always when it comes to Sarah, the guilt hits her ten times harder than the attraction does.
See, she and Sarah are friends. Best friends, even.
The two of them grew close within weeks of Kie switching schools and ditching the Pogues, and Sarah was undoubtedly the only reason she’s been able to stave off the loneliness of losing her three closest friends.
The two of them have spent nearly every day together since they met, and Kie knows that she’s just as much Sarah’s best friend as Sarah is hers.
But that’s all they are.
Friends.
Sure, there have been moments where Kie starts to think that maybe, they could be… more.
Like this, now.
The two of them are pressed so closely together that she can feel the other girl’s heartbeat thudding against her back. Every exhale she makes puffs gently against Kie’s neck, and when she speaks, her lips brush against her skin.
It’s undeniably intimate, and it Kie didn’t know better, she would almost think–
Well.
She does know better, so it’s neither here nor there.
“Do you really think they’re still mad?” Sarah asks, and it takes Kie a moment to remember what they were talking about.
She blinks heavily, trying to pick her way through the jumbled mess in her brain.
“I would honestly be shocked if they weren’t. I mean, what I did to them… Sarah, it was just awful. We had all been friends for so long, and I think they always kind of expected me to get sick of them. It used to hurt my feelings, but now…” She responds, gesturing despondently.
They think I proved them right, she doesn’t say. They both know it’s true, but it doesn’t make the words any easier to say.
Sarah frowns, clearly troubled. “But that’s not what happened. I mean, it’s not like you stopped liking them or anything, your parents didn’t give you a choice. ”
“I know that. And I tried to tell them, back when it all started. But they wouldn’t hear it, they were too convinced that every bad thing they had ever thought about me was true. I can’t even blame them for it, really.”
“Hey, no. Don’t say that. You’re not some rich girl stereotype, it’s just… hard.” The blonde says, defensive on Kie’s behalf. It’s nice, but completely unnecessary. She knows that she’s not what they think she is, but that doesn’t mean anything when her childhood best friends all think the worst of her.
Sarah must be able to sense Kie’s continued apprehension, because she squeezes her waist and smiles comfortingly. “Look. I’ll be right with you all night, okay? If they try to say anything to you, I’ll step in.”
Kie snorts. “Oh, you will, will you?”
The idea of that– of Sarah Cameron, all dolled up in her finest clothes, attempting to do anything to even one of the Pogues– is hilarious.
Sarah smiles, clearly understanding the humor in the image. “Well. Maybe there’s not much I can do, but I have a sneaking suspicion Topper’s finally gonna make a move soon, and protecting his future girlfriend’s best friend is a pretty good cause, if I do say so myself.” She says, smiling warmly.
And there it is.
The thing that stops Kie in her hopeful tracks every single time, the only reason she knows better.
Topper.
The two of them have been dancing around each other for months, and Kie knows it’s only a matter of time until Sarah’s spending all her free time with him, instead of wasting time with her.
She’s tried to protect herself, to stay away from the other girl whenever possible and to avoid moments like these, but Sarah’s magnetic in every way. All it ever takes is one glance, and just like that, Kie’s drawn in all over again.
She knows it’s going to hurt, but she’s like a moth to a flame.
She just can’t keep herself away.
She allows herself to remain entangled in Sarah’s embrace for a few more seconds before she forces herself to pull away. The blonde lets her go easily, and Kie resolutely ignores the twist in her chest at the loss of touch.
And then there’s no more excuses. No reason to stay away, especially when she’s sure her parents are checking the door every thirty seconds to see if she’s arrived.
So they go.
They’re a few minutes late, so the pavilion is already fairly crowded. Even still, her eyes almost immediately land on a lone figure, standing far on the outskirts.
Pope.
He’s standing by his dad’s truck, probably just having finished unloading the coolers.
She supposes she found him right away out of habit– just a year ago, she would’ve already been over there, helping Pope with whatever it was his dad had him doing at the moment.
As if he could feel her gaze, he looks up, locking eyes with her. For a moment, it’s like old times, and she could almost believe that he’s just a few seconds away from smiling and waving her over.
Just as quickly as the moment starts, it ends– his gaze snaps away from her, eyes wide, and someone steps in front of him, blocking her view.
The new person glares harshly at her, as if even the sight of her repulses him. She blinks for a moment, still not used to being on the receiving end of that particular look, before finally processing who it is.
JJ.
Of course it is– he has quite the protective streak when it comes to his friends, but he’s always been quickest to defend Pope.
Pope, the only one who seemed to almost understand where she was coming all those months ago, when everything changed.
He had listened to her when no one else had, and he knew what it was like to have impossible expectations to live up to.
She’s not delusional, though– she had hurt him, was probably still hurting him, just like she was with all of them. It makes sense that JJ would see her as a threat, even if it does sting.
She flinches, stumbling slightly in her step. For a moment, she sees a flash of something on the blonde boy’s face, but before she can identify it, there’s a steady hand on her arm, pulling her attention away.
It’s Sarah, smiling reassuringly. The girl opens her mouth as if to speak, but out of nowhere, she twirls around, leaving Kie blinking stupidly after her.
She freezes, trying to make sense of the situation, when she hears a deep voice murmur something she can’t quite make out.
Topper, then.
Sarah laughs loudly, clearly thrilled by whatever just happened, and Kie resolutely ignores the way the noise makes her stomach twist in dread.
Then Sarah turners back to her, her hand in Topper’s, and smiles apologetically. “Hey, Topper said he wants to talk for a minute. I know it’s not great timing, but…”
“Go ahead. I’ll be fine.” Kie interrupts, unwilling to listen to any more of Sarah’s guilty pleading.
The blonde beams, springing forward to hug her in thanks.
And just like that, she turns around and walks away, a hand in Topper’s and a spring in her step. A lump forms in Kie’s throat, and she instantly hates herself for it.
Sarah is her best friend.
She should be happy for her, not… whatever this is.
She takes a deep breath, steeling herself for what will probably end up several hours of lonesome mingling. With nothing else to do, she allows her gaze to drift again as she wanders and finds it falling right back where it had started.
The Pogues are still by Heyward’s truck, but JJ’s facing away from her now, clearly in the midst of a conversation with Pope. At some point in the past few minutes, John B. had made his way over to the group, and he’s nodding seriously, clearly in agreement with whatever point JJ’s making.
Pope shakes his head, leaning forward in a way that Kie knows means he’s about to strongly disagree with both of them. JJ’s shoulders tense, and John B. brings his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose– clearly, they’re just as aware of that as she is.
And then Pope looks over JJ’s shoulders, across the pavilion, and meets her eyes for the second time that night.
She’s so out of it, so discombobulated by the sudden turn of events, that her body moves before her mind does.
She smiles at him.
It’s not anything special– just an exhausted, weak grin. As soon as she realizes what she’s done, she freezes, but it’s too late. Pope’s seen it.
His eyes widen in surprise, and she can see his gears turning. She watches as he trips over whatever he was saying, and then–
He smiles back.
Just like that.
It’s awkward, and she can see the confusion in his eyes, but it’s there. And she knows Pope, she can tell that he’s thought it through, and unlike her, he’s doing it intentionally.
And something in her snaps.
How has this happened?
Her thoughts from earlier return, but this time, she’s not feeling sorry for herself. She’s angry .
She’s known these boys since she was a kid . She knows them like the palm of her hand, even now, after a year of separation and anger and cold shoulders.
Jesus christ, she loves them. She still loves them, and she needs them. They never expected anything from her except for her to exist alongside them, and she couldn’t even do that.
They’re her family in every way that matters.
And what did she give all that up for?
So she can have one friend in a sea of spoiled people who don’t like her? A friend who abandons her a few minutes into a party to go make out with some boy?
And yeah, considering her… feelings… she’s probably biased, but the point stands.
She gave up nights at the chateau for stilted, awkward conversation with her parents, who still don’t trust her, even now.
She allowed herself to walk away from everything she knows in exchange for going to a fucking private school that’s setting her up for a job and a life that she knows she’ll hate.
It hits her, standing alone in the middle of a massive crowd, that she’s totally and completely fucked.
She hates these people, and if she keeps going the way she has been for the past year, she’ll be expected to spend her entire life around them.
She realizes rather swiftly and out of nowhere that she can’t do this, and it’s like all the stress and pain of the past year hits her at once. She can feel the tears welling up in her eyes, the sob lodged in her chest. She blinks rapidly, trying to contain herself for just a few more moments.
Across the crowd, Pope’s smile drops into concern, and he takes a small, seemingly unconscious, step forward.
JJ and John B. turn around at the sudden change in his expression, and she can feel the moment their eyes land on her.
She had almost forgotten that for all that she knows them, they know her right back.
Of course Pope could tell the second her mood shifted. She’s about to cry, and she’s certain that all three of the boys currently staring at her know it.
It’s too much.
She covers her mouth in a last ditch attempt to contain her sobs before turning around and all but sprinting away.
She slams into the bathroom, gasping for breath and choking on tears. She doesn’t know how long she sits on the floor in the stall, wiping her tears and breathing as evenly as she can, but eventually, her breath slows and the crying stops. She sits there for a few more moments, taking the time to collect herself as well as she can.
When she finally stands to walk over to the sink, she realizes she can hear the sounds of an argument happening right outside the door.
There’s no doubt in her mind who it is, even before she gets close enough to make out what they’re saying.
“--the hell did you assholes say to her?” Sarah demands, sounding angry enough that Kie almost worries that she will try to fight someone.
“Us? We didn’t say shit! We didn’t even get near her! I’m really not sure why we’re this close to her now , and there’s a door between us!” JJ yells, defensive as always.
It’s a reasonable thing to wonder– she’s as surprised as he is. The most she expected from them seeing her crying would be for them to make fun of her for not being able to handle the life that she signed up for.
“Well why else would she be so upset? You expect me to think she ran to the bathroom crying over something totally random?”
There’s an indignant scoff that she knows belongs to John B, then: “I don’t know, maybe you or your asshole fucking boyfriend have something to do with it?”
“Oh, right, because this is all my fault. I’m the only one who's been there for her this whole time, and now you’re–”
That’s when Kie forces herself to walk away. She doesn’t want to deal with the fallout of all of this quite yet, so she walks over to the sink and wets a paper towel, hoping to wipe away the worst of her ruined makeup.
Kiara Carrera is almost seventeen years old, embarrassingly into a girl who is too busy being fixated on the douchiest guy on the island to notice, isolated from her best friends, setting herself up for a miserable life, and locked in a bathroom at the party of the year.
She has makeup smeared all over her face, her eyes are bright red with tears, and the angry voices outside are getting louder every second.
Her charade is over, and she knows it. It’s time to fix this.
And when she finally looks in the mirror, her eyes steely with newfound determination, she can almost recognize the girl staring back at her.