Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Your sweater smells like you,"  she said,

"I wish it were a magic sweater so when I took it off and shook it you would arrive into it just like magic-- I hate sweaters that aren't magic." 

Atticus

1. 

Kiara hated studying, plain and simple. She had tried to form good habits when she was younger, always organizing her notes when she got home from school and dedicating a portion of her night towards memorizing reviews and study guides, thinking if she committed to these tasks often enough that maybe someday they wouldn’t make her so downright miserable. But even back then her focus became scattered at the mere mention of quadratic equations and probabilities and soon it was a dilemma between whether she wanted to face a lousy report card or force herself to sit down long enough to absorb the seemingly unabsorbable material.

Numbers just weren’t her specialty, which was annoyingly ironic considering the amount of times she’s relied on them while sitting beside a random touron with a beer in hand and explaining the harm in microplastics or when JJ’s mixing alcohol with Acetaminophen -- recommended dosages were always a foreign concept to him. ‘You can’t just drink straight from the bottle until you feel better, JJ!’ ‘If I’m puking my guts out, I’m not gonna wanna read the fine print, Kie.’ 

She accepted the struggle because at the end of the day, she had strengths in other subjects that managed to make up for it and if that’s how she crawled through her four demanding and daunting years of high school, then she couldn’t really complain. Until Friday afternoon rolled around, putting an impediment in her thought process. 

She was only half listening to the teacher drone on and on about the new equation sheet they were getting and only when the mention of next semester reaches her divided attention does she heed the topic of discussion, which was the upcoming test. The significance of sharing a class with at least one of the boys seemed to only increase as they got older, as if school just got relatively shittier the longer it went on -- which she didn’t doubt for a second -- so when Mr. Allens explains how the score on the next test will determine what class they’re put into next semester, Kiara feels a seed of panic blossom in her stomach. 

Pope was good, John B was okay, JJ managed average scores when he tried so all she had to do was... not fail. Seems easy enough when she disregards all of the tests she has in fact failed. 

She lets out a long sigh as the class starts to pack up, feeling a dull ache in the back of her head from the bell that seemed a little louder than normal. 

“JB, clear your plans for this weekend,” Pope declares after they all find each other in the hallway, a serious expression on his face as he takes up the ‘this is non negotiable’ attitude he uses in times in which he considers to be dire. 

Kiara didn’t blame him and as she glances at JJ and John B, she reads their stances as stressed, so it must be dire. Passing tests weren’t always on their radar. 

“My plans are your plans, dude,” John B says, knowing it was redundant since they all essentially shared a schedule at this point. 

“You know what I mean. Kie, you and I will bring snacks, we’ll meet up at John B’s and-- “

“Yo what about me?” JJ asks, purposely giving his friend a hard time. Pope just gives him a knowing look. 

“Honestly, just bring as much focus as you can, that’s all I can ask for, especially after last time.” 

JJ snorts and Kiara has to look away, hiding her snicker with a cough. The last infamous Pogue study session started off on the right foot but slowly took a turn as they all ended up getting high and doing a marathon of Back to the Future. The following day, Pope was traumatized from his grade and refuses to let them forget or repeat that interesting night. 

“No one’s getting stoned, no one’s gonna even mention the word ‘binge’ and we’re actually gonna study, eyes to pages, even if it takes all night-- “

“Alright, calm down you party animal. You had me at stoned-- “

“I think you misunderstood, JJ,” John B feeds into it, tilting his head and giving the blond an overly confused look. 

“No, I’m serious, guys. Kie? You down?” Pope eyes her, repeating her name when she doesn’t answer. She blinks hard at the pounding headache behind her eyes, looking up at them from where she had been staring at the ground, wondering why her body felt like it was on fire, breaking out in cold sweats that left her weak. 

“Yeah, snacks.” She nods, looking at John B. “You got drinks?” 

“Okay, you say that like you want alcohol.” 

“You sure you’re not just projecting?” She tilts her head at his ‘pfft’, turning to walk to her next class, making a mental note to maybe go to bed early, hoping that would help her throbbing head. 

The next day, getting out of bed proves to be quite the challenge as the slices of blinding light from her sagging curtains hits her sore eyes, leaving her dizzy with nausea. She forces herself to sit up and immediately regrets the movement, feeling the blood painfully rush to her head which was so congested she could no longer breath through her nose. 

She lies back down, her aching limbs thanking her instantly as she lets out a groggy swear.

She must’ve fully given in to the warmth of the blankets that surrounded her limbs and the monotone buzz of the air conditioning because an hour later, she’s getting pulled back into consciousness by a text from JJ, asking where she was. 

Pogue study session. 

Shit. 

For half a minute she contemplates skipping, sitting it out and sleeping the day away with 20ml of cough syrup and a cup of tea in her system as she blissfully dozes off. But then the test nags at the back of her mind, making her pick up her phone to type out a quick ‘be there in 20’ before rolling out of bed and into the bathroom. 

One hot shower and a couple of pills of cold medicine later, she’s slinging her backpack over her achy shoulder and driving over to the Chateau, regretting every second of it. Despite it being a not-too-cold-not-too-warm day, she shivers all the way over.

The fleece lined compression long sleeve shirt was a gem amongst her closet of crop tops, cut off shorts and flannels but she still couldn’t suppress the deep chill that wrapped around her rigid body. She nearly melted in the sweat pants she had thrown on, knowing if she was going to stay awake and take part in the group effort that was studying -- more like cramming -- she was at least going to be comfortable. 

It was cloudy and windy but otherwise rather warm for late October. She turns the heat up in her car, relishing in the warmth until she pulls into the driveway of John B’s, realizing she’d have to leave its comfort.

She sits for a moment, building up the strength before reaching for her books and telling herself she had no choice in the matter -- sick or not, school never seemed to care. 

She steps into the Chateau, dropping her book bag onto the couch before collapsing beside it, rubbing her eyes and groaning. 

“Damn, Kie. Hard night?” She hears JJ tease as he spots her. 

“Something like that," she mumbles in her sleeves, her arms draped over her face to stop her head from pounding. 

“You sound like shit,” he says, this time a little more solemnly. She feels the cushion by her feet sink when she slowly sits up and starts wrapping and tying her hair on top of her head. Cold wet hair was less than ideal on her neck at the moment. 

“And no offense but you look like shit too.” 

“Always so flattering, that JJ,” John B mocks from the kitchen, looking between the two of them as he tips back a glass of juice. 

“I feel like shit,” she adds, sniffing and glancing over at JJ. He’s scanning her body with a look between amusement and sympathy, making her weakly kick his leg. 

“What’re you staring at?” 

“Nothin’, nothin’...” he shakes his head, a not so innocent smile playing at his lips. “It’s just, it’s no biggie, but you did forget the snacks.” 

She lets her head sag between her arms which are perched on her knees, trying to decide whether to laugh or cry. A mix between the two escapes her throat.

“Damn!” she moans half heartedly, her nasally voice making it sound like she didn’t really feel all that bad. “I didn’t even think about them.” 

“S’okay, Kie. Pope brought a bunch of those tomato and basil crackers, like, as in enough for each of us to get our own box and then some. Apparently Pope told his mom what we were doing and she was proud he was rubbing off on us, so she gave him extras,” John B explains, gesturing to the table where Pope was sitting, currently writing something down in a notebook with one hand while the other was digging in a box of crackers. 

She frowns at just the idea of swallowing something so rough, her sore throat stinging in response, making her outwardly cringe. 

“Can we just start this thing? I just wanna be done with it so I can go back to bed and then get a good grade and all that shit. I’m already starting to feel over it.” 

“What she said,” JJ quips, standing from where he sat beside her to collect his books, indiscreetly stealing a few crackers from Popes box, causing them to break out in a swatting match. 

Half an hour later, textbooks and loose leaf pages scatter the tiny coffee table, along with calculators and pens, with a few highlighters rolling onto the floor whenever someone shifts a piece of paper or flips a page in their book.

Kiara can’t remember the last time they were all in the same room and just sitting still, completely focused, eerily silent, all devoting themselves to one task. It made her second guess herself, questioning whether she was either too focused and blocking everything out or not focused at all, getting distracted by the lack of distractions. 

Ah yes, she thinks as she gives her sore eyes a break, glancing around the living room, this is what not paying attention feels like. Kiara and math were like water and oil, so putting a cold in the mix and expecting anything productive to come out of it was practically a losing battle. 

John B, Pope and JJ sat around the small table, holding notebooks and pencils in their laps, occasionally stealing Popes ‘good’ calculator and punching in a few digits at a time. Kiara sat on the couch, leaning over to the table to reach for the sheet that had all of the key equations on it just so she was moving and not thinking about sleep or her bed. If she sat still for too long, she would get distracted, realize how fucking cold it was in John B’s house and how impossibly tired she was. 

She makes it through most of the reading, copying down all of the equations and recording her answers before the first disturbance occurs. 

JJ grabs the calculator and seems in genuine need of it until he continues to press the same button, over and over and over, quick, then slow then quick again. 

“JJ. Cut it out,” John B mumbles. 

“Dude, you break it you pay for it,” Pope says without taking his eyes off his page. 

“Yeah and those ones aren’t cheap,” John B adds, stealing it from his friend and clearing out the data before punching in his own numbers, eyes bouncing from page to screen. Kiara tries not to envy him, not only his knack for numbers but his seemingly untouchable focus. She rubs her eyes at the thought. 

JJ starts tapping his highlighter against the side of the table, gesturing to the TV. “I don’t get why we don’t just pop in a movie or some shit. I was so focused last time, you guys don’t understand. I mean, at least some background noise will distract from the bottomless pit of dread I so deeply feel right now.” 

“Don’t oversell it or anything,” Kiara mumbles even though she finds herself agreeing with him, probably more than she’d like to admit. Wouldn’t be the first time either and likely not the last, knowing how oddly in sync they were at the strangest of times. Pope furrows his brow, giving the blond a dramatic stare. 

“Don’t lie to yourself, JJ, that was the opposite of focus. And I’m not letting you fail this test so finish your notes so we can start flashcards.” 

Another silence falls over them and Kiara can practically feel JJ’s cooperation slipping. He takes in a long breath, slowly exhaling as he peers over at Kiara, who’s dropped her pencil and not bothered to pick it up. He eyes it, leaning over to grab it before tossing it into her lap, making her jump. 

“Kie, you good?” he asks, raising his eyebrows as she looks over to him. The body aches have her in an unbelievable amount of pain and all she wanted to do was curl up and maybe die for a few hours but she just shrugs.

“I’m great, JJ, but now I’ve lost my focus thanks to your obnoxious button mashing.” 

“You didn’t even have a pencil!” 

“I was reading.” 

“You were staring!”

“It’s called studying, dumbass-- ” 

“You’re saying staring is studying? Like, in its essence-- “

“Can you guys get a room?” John B casually asks, lifting a textbook to find his equations cheat sheet. JJ finishes the last fold to his paper airplane and lightly tosses it in Popes direction. 

“I’d love to, actually, maybe a warmer room than this one so she can stop fucking shivering.” 

Kiara sits up straighter, causing the pencil to roll back on the floor. “I’m not shivering, dude.” 

“You are straight up shivering.” 

“No, I’m not-- “

“Shaking like a leaf,” JJ says, his voice muffled through his sweater he was pulling over his head. He tosses it at her face as he stands from his crunched position near the table, twisting towards the couch. “It’s distracting me.” 

Kiara raises her eyebrows exaggeratedly, holding back a smirk. “My shivering is distracting you?” 

“Yup.” He reaches for a blanket hanging on the back of the couch. 

“That’s such bullshit,” she smiles lazily, trying to put heat behind her words but finding none to give. She hardly ever had genuine bite to her words when they were directed towards JJ. He plops down right next to her with the blanket in his hands and rolls his eyes dramatically. 

“You know, you actually have to put it on, here-- “ He pulls the bottom of the sweater over her head and she can’t really bring herself to fight it, sluggishly pushing her arms through the sleeves and wiping the loose hair from her face. She could actually feel the congestion climbing from her chest into her face, making it so she can’t smell anything.

It’s a shame, really. JJ’s clothes always had a nostalgic smell to them, a mix between campfire and… him. 

“God, you’re impossible, Kie,” he says with a hint of fondness behind it as he wraps the blanket around the both of them, quickly rubbing his hands up and down her arms. The warmth felt impossibly nice, soothing her aching muscles, making it hard not to melt into his side. 

“The hell are you guys doing?” Pope asks, looking between them and his box of crackers, shoving a handful in his face. 

“Kie’s hypothermic, you guys. I’m not just gonna let her freeze.” 

“Correction, she’s sick. Has she taken any medicine?” 

“Yeah,” she murmurs, not really all there all of a sudden as she finds herself leaning into JJ’s side, nearly burying her face into his shoulder. Pope rolls his eyes, channeling his focus back to his textbooks.

Kiara wonders if it's delirium that causes her to lift her legs from the floor, if it's her feverish temperature that has her practically laying in JJ’s arms under the blanket. She questions if it’s all the cough syrup she took that allows her to feel JJ lean into it, tugging the blanket closer, shamelessly making himself at home. 

She can’t help but smile against his thigh. 

“I’m probably so contagious right now.” 

“You probably are,” he agrees, not a hint of wanting to leave her side in his voice. “Wait, actually, we should all get sick so we don’t have to take the test on Monday!”

“Foolproof,” Pope mutters sarcastically. John B grunts in disagreement. 

“We’d only prolong the inevitable," he says darkly. “Plus I’d rather get it over with, quick and painless, while I still care.” 

“True,” JJ admits defeatedly. Kiara closes her eyes and realizes for as reluctant as JJ seems at leaving the couch, it’s also possible he is totally using her as an out from studying. The thought forces a chuckle from her congested chest. 

“JJ?” 

“Hmm?”

“Not that I want you to leave but I’m not taking the blame for being your distraction.” 

He gently squeezes the arm he’s been slowly rubbing, kicking his own feet up and falling deeper into the cushions. She could hear the smile in his voice at his next words.

“Too bad.” 

Chapter Text

"The sunset melts into the waves,

the colors fade into the sea,

and it makes me wonder,

if you'd ever drown in love with me."

Paul Perry

2.

The sun had finally set and Kiara could not push down the admiration she felt for the sky. Maybe it was in her head, but the particular oranges and pinks that stretched across the horizon she stared at now signified the end of the week and it never failed to pull her attention towards it. No matter what she was doing she never let the sun disappear without seeing it off, either finding a window to peak out of or just flat out perching herself at the end of a dock or in the grass of her backyard. 

It was her personal ritual, one she started when nothing else would calm her mind that buzzed from the oftentimes stressful happenings of her day. Over time, winding down became a difficult task, one that she learned the hard way she had to take part in if she wanted a full night's rest. Sometimes she meditated and sometimes she cleaned. Sometimes she buried herself in freshly cleaned blankets on her bed and listened to the sounds of rain, euphonious tracks from a playlist Pope recommended to her, the same one he listens to when he can’t focus on his homework. They always did share the struggle to ease their obnoxious tendencies of worrying and overthinking, it only made sense they would share remedies. 

The sunsets were consistent and in a way that reassured her -- one that she’d probably never tell anyone about from how outlandish it sounded in her head when she tried to make sense of it. They reminded her that everything had an end, that permanency was just an illusion and that thought alone was comforting enough. If she had a bad day, she didn’t have to have a bad week. The worry she carried at 6 p.m. didn’t have to bleed into 6 a.m. if she didn’t want it to, and a bad memory didn’t have to follow her around if she felt the need to let it go.

Sometimes recognizing insignificance in the heavier parts of her life lifted a weight off her shoulders and sunsets were reminiscent to not get too lost in those parts.  

A more trivial yet similarly endearing routine of hers took place typically after her Friday night shifts at The Wreck and it included grabbing her canvas bag from the break room and immediately climbing into the 1960’s-esque beat up Routledge-owned van, usually involving a comment or two about how trashed it was inside. 

“Hippie vans are supposed to be messy, it adds to the whole aesthetic,” JJ claims, talking over the joint between his lips as he raises the lighter in his hands up to it. 

“The aesthetic of living like a six year old, maybe,” Kiara mumbles, taking the joint he’s handing her.

“Plus it’s John B’s and since when is anything he’s responsible for ever clean?” Pope adds, softening the blow with a smile towards John B in the driver's seat, who’s rolling his eyes.

“I’m basically a six year old at heart so make of that what you will, I live for the six year old aesthetic. First grader me would be proud,” John B says, just to annoy everyone. He succeeds, receiving incredulous giggles and a random soda bottle thrown at his arm. He looks satisfied regardless. 

They were superficial but fun nonetheless, their trips to the Boneyard. And maybe someday Kiara would look back on them and cringe at how predictable and corny they were, how she got excited from being young and dumb and not having to give a fuck about anything if she didn’t want to. 

Except sometimes she did. 

When Kiara decided that her three best friends would be three boys, she knew what she would have to put up with because of it. Not that she ever regretted them -- sure, her social life in general would’ve been easier if she had chosen to mingle with a girl, perhaps, but she didn’t need easy when the Pogues provided everything she wanted and needed -- but that alone didn’t stop anyone from making the comments and accusations.

And to put it shortly, she was sick of them. 

Being with the Pogues was one of if not her favorite place to be; it’s where she felt safest and most herself and with everything she’s been through, having people who are able to provide that means the world to her. Maybe more. She couldn’t ask for more than John B’s brotherly teases or Popes failed attempts at keeping them all out of trouble or JJ’s effortlessly addicting energy. They all understood her without even trying and that was something she thought she would never have. 

So when she overheard a comment about her ‘true intentions’ for ‘slumming’ with the boys, she couldn’t really overlook it. It made her feel dirty which she despised beyond words, putting a sick feeling in her stomach every single time. The longer she stuck with the boys the more degrading every comment felt and she could no longer just sit and take it. 

As she stood, feet buried in the cold sand and hair blowing in the gentle wind, staring at the bonfire, she clutched the solo cup to her chest as drunk voices floated around the cool air. She wasn’t stupid, she knew that just by showing up to a kegger, sometimes people were purposely looking for trouble. It was only about an hour into the night when she felt a hand on her shoulder, twisting her around. 

“I heard you told my boyfriend to go fuck himself.” 

Kiara immediately shakes the hand off and rolls her eyes, turning away from the tipsy redhead girl and wonders vaguely when her own drink will kick in.

Honestly maybe it already has because for the life of her she can’t remember telling someone off tonight. That doesn’t mean she puts it past her though. 

“Hello?” the girl slurs loudly, making Kiara want to punch her teeth in all of a sudden.

“Maybe that’s what happens when he has nothing better to do than hit on random girls on the beach,” Kiara mumbles into her cup as she tips it back, only taking a sip when the girl steps in front of her, eyes glazed, a little too close for comfort. Kiara raises her eyebrows, not stepping down. 

“What, you’re just gonna ignore me?” the girl goes on, glancing back behind her to another girl who seemed to be watching from a distance. “You know, it’s kinda funny, Kiara. You ignore me but not him. I’m really surprised you could keep your little hands off him, actually. With you and your reputation, that’s big for you! Should we call it a milestone?”

Kiara drops her cup in the sand and pushes the girl away, causing her to stumble back a few steps. She curses before her foggy eyes focus back on Kiara. 

Kiara’s half way from turning away when she feels a cup of beer splash into her side, foamy and sticky, soaking her shoulder and hair. She gasps as the cold liquid hits her face and ear, blinking rapidly. 

“What the fuck!” 

“Fucking slut!” the girl calls out, making Kiara step towards her again to push her further away. Kiara gets a punch in before she feels a tight grip on both of her arms, pulling her off the girl. 

“Get the fuck off me!” She thrashes around and pulls on the grip, yanking and turning in one motion to kick whoever grabbed her, finding some guy who she assumed was the girl's boyfriend. Which would make this the second time tonight he’s bothered her. 

“Stupid bitch!” the girl shrieks when Kiara kicks him, just before he half composes himself and lunges for her. She feels her stomach jump into her throat before another voice and another pair of arms break up the fight.

“Hey, watch it! Fucking watch it!” JJ shouts, with the same level of panic and defence he usually has when breaking up a fight with one of the Pogues. Kiara stumbles away in the sand, her hearting beating out of her chest as she watches them brawl. She never enjoyed watching JJ fight someone, as often as he did it, hated seeing him in a position where it was hurt or get hurt. 

“JJ!” She pushes herself up onto her unsteady legs, shuffling over to where he stood and grabs his arm. 

“JJ, just leave him.” 

JJ stops kicking and almost loses his balance into her side. She pulls him away from the crowd that has gathered around them, both of them pushing past people who are trying to see what’s happening. She hears the word ‘slut’ again just when JJ roughly pushes past someone, nearly causing them to trip over their feet. 

Their breaths are loud and labored by the time they reach a quiet stretch of beach, one darker and more secluded from the rest of the party. Kiara tries to slow her breathing, unable to catch her breath from how quick her heart was beating. 

“Fuck!” she nearly screams, making JJ flinch from where he stood beside her, glancing between the ground and behind them. He studies her body with wide eyes, as if searching for an injury. 

“What?”

She doesn’t answer, feeling the knot in her throat tighten all of a sudden. She shakes out the front of her wet shirt, flipping her beer soaked hair to the side. 

“Kie, what?” he asks, this time more worried and stern, making her glance at him. She notes how he was gladly left with no bloody noses or lips and she’s relieved but she can’t really show it from how livid she felt. She sniffs annoyed, swiping at her cheeks absently just in case any tears felt like falling just then. 

“Bitch got beer on my shirt,” she chokes out, stopping to swallow down the pressure she felt building in her chest. She hears it in her breathing, the utter frustration. Being called a slut never failed to bring her to the brink of a panic attack and that seemed to be what really sends her over the edge every time. ‘They’re just words.’ her mother had once told her as she held her against her chest, rocking until her sobs died down. That was the problem though. Kiara wanted so badly for them to be ‘just words’ but they always seemed to hurt more than any punch or skinned knee or hangover could ever live up to. 

JJ seems to sense it too, stopping their trek away from the party to step in front of her and cautiously holding his arms to her sides. She stops too, holding her hands on her hips as he dips his head to catch her gaze. 

“Kie, calm down, alright? You’re okay- “

“My fucking shirt is wet.” It’s all she can focus on to stop from completely losing the calm she’s finally managed to work herself down to so she says it and doesn’t realize he’s pulling off his own sweater and handing it to her until it’s in her hands, in her shaking hands, and the warmth from the material brings her back a little. She squeezes it, feels the softness on her fingertips and finally lifts her head to his. 

She can barely make out his face in the moonlight but what she can see is the familiarity that she never got tired of. It looked like messy blond hair and dimples and eyes that usually said more than the mouth ever got around to sharing, mostly from having experienced the consequences of too many slip ups one too many times. Sometimes they were slurred from too many drinks, sometimes they were spat from being cornered but nonetheless, the older he got, the more he held back. And Kiara could tell when JJ was holding his tongue. If he wasn’t kicking or throwing he was still, with tense shoulders and cold eyes, the same eyes she saw now. Not directed to her but maybe that was worse, she thinks, glancing back towards the crowd of people. 

A cool breeze blows through the trees, drowning out what little was left of the music from down the beach, causing her sticky hair to brush along her neck. She notices he doesn’t have anything underneath the sweater he just handed her but he doesn’t seem to care so she doesn’t feel the need to fret over it. It wasn’t terribly cold out anyways. 

She starts to pull her shirt off when she realizes she too has nothing underneath. 

“Can you turn around?” she mumbles, glad to hear her voice is no longer stiff with withheld emotions. He sits for a second before catching on. 

“Ah, yeah.”

“Thanks.”

She supposed any other time he would’ve tried to joke around and catch a peek but he seems to sense her still grasping for composure, still trying to avoid a complete breakdown so he stays facing away from her as she switches out of her sticky shirt for his sweater. Once she’s done, she drops her damp shirt in the sand and tells him she’s good. He turns and watches her as she slowly starts walking towards the water, scooping up the shirt and slinging it around his neck before following her. 

They sit on the sand, their feet just barely reaching the water, for a few long minutes before she speaks up, twisting her necklaces around between her fingers. She peers over at him, squinting to make out his face. 

“Sorry about that.” 

She makes out a little shake of his head. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” 

She wasn’t sorry for getting in the fight, she hardly ever was when it came down to it. But being called a slut was something she was forced to deal with on her own during her so-called Kook year, something she mostly internalized and hid because it was ugly, the whole thing, and she wanted no one to see it. Never talking about it was her strategy because not doing so would only draw attention to it, she told herself over and over again. That was the last thing she wanted out of all of it. 

Early on, she had also made it clear to the boys she didn’t need someone to throw her punches for her just because she was a girl. And over time they’ve proven that when they do throw a punch, it’s with her and not for her. But for some reason, her mind was playing tricks with her. Watching JJ tonight put a shameful feeling in her bones that she can’t quite shake. 

She looks back over to him tentatively. 

“Yeah, but… I don’t like seeing you fight like that, JJ.” 

“And I don’t like seeing guys thinking they can just do and say whatever they want around girls!” She can see him fidgeting with one of his rings as he glances over to her, shrugging stubbornly. “I’m not just gonna sit back and watch you deal with that shit, either. I won’t- “

She looks away, not knowing if she was ready for this conversation. “I know, but you don’t have to protect me- “

“Trust me, I know.” 

Silence. Only the sound of the dark water lapping over itself, climbing up towards them only to get pulled back, fills her ears. She feels his eyes on her, feels him shift beside her as his voice lowers. 

“Kie, if it bothers you then I’m sorry, but I wanted to do it. That was my choice and it had nothing to do with your… patriarchal protective bullshit thing” She exhales in a weak laugh, caught off guard from the sarcasm in his voice, only to deflate at his next words. “It’s the fact that someone’s calling you shit that they shouldn’t be able to get away with calling you- “ They shouldn’t. But they do. And they have. And they will, somehow, for some fucked up reason.

“JJ- “

“No, I’m serious, Kie! I know plenty of people think that that shits okay but it’s not. And the problem with hearing it as often as you do- “ She runs a hand down her face, not ready to hear it, “is that you start to believe it.” 

She wants to tell him that she doesn’t, that it doesn’t matter and that he’s looking too far into it but the scary part is he wasn’t and she never liked to lie to him. In fact, it was as if he was pulling thoughts right out of her head, the way he did sometimes, because now her throat is tight again and she’s wrapping her arms around herself, feeling the warmth from the sweater making it feel as though crying would be okay. 

JJ’s always had that effect on her, making everything feel okay, somehow. Sort of like sunsets. 

Instead, she pulls her knees up to her chest and tilts her head to the side, resting it on his shoulder. Without hesitating, he wraps an arm around her back, in the relaxed manner she loved so much. 

She felt safe now, like this. Close and with his arm around her like it was the most natural thing he’d ever done. 

“Just…” he starts quietly, squeezing her arm softly, “don’t start believing it.” 

She lifts her head to look at him, noticing him nervously biting his cheek before he catches her staring at him. He nods once, confidently, a joking tone in his voice, cocking his head to the side fondly. “I know you’re stubborn enough to block ‘em out, Kie. I’ve seen you do it.” 

She interrupts with a chuckle, eyes dancing around his relaxed face. 

“Especially when JB says shit like ‘I live for the six year old aesthetic.’ Honestly, what are we gonna do with that kid? What the fuck do you even say to that?” 

She can’t help but laugh now, at his impersonation of their friend and the way he shakes his head as if he’s all a lost cause. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time we all just went with it. You especially! D’you even realize how often you feed into his schemes?” 

“Couldn’t call me his bestest friend if I didn’t. Also ‘the best surfer he knows’ isn’t an easy title to take either.” 

“He doesn’t call you that.” she teases, although she knows it’s probably true. 

“Oh, but he does.” He gives a light giggle, as if reminiscing on old times, fidgeting with her shirt wrapped around his wrist. “He’d be lost without me and you know it.” 

She nods after a moment, fully agreeing with the sentiment as she rests her head back on his shoulder and looking out at the dark horizon, the sky only a bit lighter than the water. She feels the warmth radiate from his body, making goosebumps run up her arms as she thinks about the sky again, picturing the sun dip out of sight, casting warm hues, only a couple of hours ago. The idea of talking about the light hours in the dark ones felt like talking about an old friend, someone she hasn’t seen for a while but misses their presence nonetheless. It automatically instills a sense of vulnerability in the air and she knew JJ was always more open at night anyways. 

“Can I tell you something weird?” 

“Go for it.” 

She hesitates, rolling words around her mouth to see which would fit best. 

“Sometimes I think the sunset is kinda like a reset button. Like no matter what happens, the day still ends… and then it’s night but night is so different from day. And it’s relieving to know that some things are left in the day, ya know? Whatever bullshit you go through doesn’t have to be as important as it seems in the moment because before you know it, it’s in the past, and everything passes, even if it feels like it’s at a different pace.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, making her feel like he’s gonna question how much she drank or some form of it but he doesn’t. It’s one of the silences that follows after she says something, one where he wants to just soak it in and maybe marvel for a second.

“Makes sense.” JJ hums thoughtfully in response, squeezing her arm again. “And it’s not weird. It’s a Kie thing, so I like it.” 

A Kie thing. She has to bite her lip to suppress the wave of fondness that washes over her, fondness for everything about the boy beside her. What was her life like without him again?

“But,” he interrupts her silent ‘let's think about everything I love about JJ’ party, a tenderness in his slightly humored voice, “I wouldn’t mind if right now passed at a slower pace. Right here.” 

She lets out a breath, leaning back with his hand in hers until she’s lying in the sand, watching him copy her and settle down beside her, bare back in the cold sand. She turns her head to face him, noticing the smirk on his lips as he gazes at the stars. 

“Agreed.” 

Chapter Text

"and the afterglow...of your gaze...is the only sweater that I need."

Sanober Khan

3.

Fridays were starting to have a whole new meaning as the season progressed and Kiara couldn’t say she was entirely content with it.

Before, they always meant some form of release from whatever was tying her down throughout the week, a pause from the rigid schedule that she somehow always found herself stuck in no matter how much she tried to squirm out of it. 

Now, she wakes up to a dark bedroom, the blankets cool from the air conditioning and the sun not quite blessing her with it’s golden glow just yet, making her miss the days where she got the luxury of awaiting its arrival in bed, preferably still asleep. She has to force herself into the bathroom to wash away as much sleep from her face as she can manage as the smell of coffee seeps into every room in the house. It’s a good sign -- despite her deep dislike for the bitter smell -- it meant her parents were up, which in turn, reassures her that she hadn’t overslept.

She’s learned to take anything she can get in her exhaustion ridden brain. 

Then there was school, a brutal never-ending cycle that constantly tested her limits and truly showed just how much ego she could physically tolerate in one room.

Some days -- most days -- when she wasn’t volunteering it was wiping down tables at The Wreck and because it was its busiest time of the year, the hours she managed to put in seemed to multiply by the week, leaving her very few hours for herself, let alone time with the Pogues. 

Fridays no longer meant the colorful freedom they used to mean, they no longer gave her something as simple as a break because she, along with John B, Pope and JJ, were doing that thing she never thought they’d do, which was growing up.

It seemed like only last week they were competing to see who could climb to the highest point on the playground, like not too long ago they were all sitting around in the hospital room and teasing John B for wanting to show off, not to be mean but to distract him from the broken arm. He had managed to climb to the top of the monkey bars, winning their little challenge, but not knowing how to get down without taking a trip to the emergency room. 

When she saw the boys, she saw the kids who ate with her at lunch and made her laugh until she cried when she had a bad day, but she also saw the way Pope planned ahead and the way John B made an effort not to sleep in so much, breaking old bad habits. She saw the way JJ no longer slept with just about anyone who gave him the time of day and it was a bit surreal when she thought about it too much, how they’ve grown.

Now, instead of spending their days in each other’s company with close to nothing on their agendas they spent all their time trying to save up. Because that’s what eighteen year olds did, right?

Pope had been putting in extra hours with his dad when he wasn’t studying or volunteering at some school event, as was Kiara, while John B and JJ were constantly picking up odd jobs around the island. 

John B had always been independent as far as income, mainly from not being able to rely on his dad when he needed to. Same was true for JJ, only difference being the only money he did make oftentimes went towards habits that left bruises on his skin and neighbors calling in the middle of the night for domestic disturbances.

For Kiara and Pope, despite their parents' willingness to help them with money, neither of them ever wanted to take advantage of it, wanting to earn the money they spent. So Kiara didn’t have a problem with the idea of them all trying to make money, only that doing so spilled into all their freetime. 

This was why when a precious Friday night presents itself in the form of a Saturday off, her first instinct is to see who else was fortunate enough to share the same fate and go to an outdoor movie night, something she never realized she’d miss so much. 

After sending out texts of sos! if you’re off tonight/tomorrow then let a friend know, JJ was the only one to answer, calling her and telling her he’d be off in about an hour, giving her the address of his current ‘hellish but high paying thing’. Just from over the phone, she could tell he was stressed just from the way he tiredly answered the call.

That was another part of growing up, she figured, judging from the amount of times she’s heard JJ’s voice lack his usual charisma and energy. She didn’t like seeing him so worn out so she made it her personal mission to lift his mood whenever she could. 

The evening sky was speckled with clouds and as she peered out of the windshield, she could make out the moon where there weren’t clumps of trees reaching over the road. She reached to turn down the air conditioning that JJ had asked for, rolling down her window to feel the cool air caress her face.

Her suspicions were too close to true from the second she picked JJ up, made obvious from the way he slowly pulled himself into the passenger's seat, by the color of his shoulders and cheeks and by the way he instantly tilted his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes that he had been probably working over ten hours. 

It took a lot for him to get sunsick -- spending more hours outside than inside tended to do that to someone. And if the countless days and nights she’s spent with him were anything to go off of, she was pretty sure this is what it looked like on JJ, flushed face and tired eyes and all. 

“Who did you say the family was again?” she asks, propping her elbow up on the windowless door, glancing over at JJ who was currently melting into his seat. 

“The Evans,” he answers in a scratchy voice, clearing his throat as he reaches for a random bottle of water rolling around on the floor. He holds it up to her and she nods before he downs it, tossing it behind his seat as he slumps back into his former position.

“They’re not terrible considering the neighborhood they live in. All of the other roofs I’ve helped out with in that area belong to some real pieces of work but they were almost tolerable. Like, they understood food breaks and everything.” 

“Oh wow.” She raises her eyebrows, acting overly impressed by the treatment he should’ve been getting from all of his construction jobs but clearly wasn’t.

He was drawn to the jobs in Figure Eight purely for the pay and nothing else, even if it meant being treated like shit. “Someones spoiled.” 

“I know.” He lets out an amused breath, running a heavy hand through his hair. “They even offered to have me stay for dinner but I said no ‘cause you had just called-- “

“JJ!” she rebukes lightly, eyeing him again, slowing down to make a turn. “Did you not eat yet? You didn’t have to say no, we could’ve met up tomorrow-- “

“Nah, Kie. I’m fine, we’ll grab something when we get there. You think I’d rather spend my time with some Kooks with some free food than you? I’m a little offended.” 

She ignores his false hurt, shrugging innocently. “It is tough to compete with.”

He reaches back to grab the discarded bottle to toss at her, which she blocks while holding back a snicker.

“I mean, you never turn down free food, so I hope you gave some deep thought towards it.” 

“You are unbelievable,” he dismisses, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head fondly, a smirk on his lips. Some of the exhaustion finally leaves his face and she relishes in the sight, feeling as though no time has passed since they’ve been able to just drive and not have to worry about the time or what day it was. 

“Wasn’t even a competition," he mumbles, closing his eyes again to pretend he didn’t see her beaming into the back of her hand.

Her smile used to be so shy around him and now, years later, it was anything but, radiating in a way that never failed to tug at his own lips. It was contagious and beyond addicting. 

When they finally pull into the grassy lot by the screen, Kiara gathers the blanket and chairs she packed and checks her phone, noticing two texts.

One from Pope, since when has my life reached a point where I can’t respond to sos bc of homework??! and one from John B, i’m a slave to the system now and i hate my life. sorry Kie :( maybe next weekend?

She smiles, typing out quick replies before watching JJ through the car as he pulls on a sweater over his cut off T-shirt, assuming his sunburn was worse than what he was used to. 

By the time they settle somewhere off to the side of the screen, more people are starting to show up, fumbling about to unfold their chairs and unpack their belongings. Walking back from the concession lines, two sodas and some chips in hand, she notices apparently this particular activity was something on everyone else’s minds as well as hers and she can’t help but let her eyes wander around as she sets their two chairs closer so there’s room for more people. 

She hands one of the sodas to JJ, plopping down in her chair and pulling up her blanket. 

“Aw, Kie, you didn’t have to,” he says, taking the soda anyways and holding it in his lap.

She was grateful he actually took it and didn’t stubbornly reject it like he usually did when she bought him something. She knew where it came from but sometimes he drove her up a wall when it came to accepting purchases. 

She sets the bag of chips in her cup holder and cracks her own soda open. “Yeah, I actually did, I don’t want you falling asleep on me. It’s our day off tomorrow, we have to stay up all night and party.” 

He snorts a little too loud at that and Kiara can’t help but chuckle herself. The idea was wildly tempting but actually executing it was likely impossible considering the amount of sleep they were already on and the amount of hours they had worked. She wouldn’t have even put it past them to call it an early night and just crash before midnight, a thing that was once forbidden amongst the Pogues. 

There were children, as well as teenagers and adults and Kiara can’t remember the last time she’s seen it so packed.

A part of her contemplates leaving, not wanting to be around so many people in her very rare time off but she decides against it. They were already here so might as well make the most of it, she thinks as she grimaces at a couple a few chairs down her row. They were all over each other and seemingly unbothered by the looks there were getting. 

“Like what you see?” JJ asks, sarcasm evident in his voice as he too is giving the couple a look, sipping on his soda. “Shit, if he keeps going, she’s not gonna have any clothes left before the movie even starts.”

“Honestly, I could’ve just stayed home if I wanted to see that.” 

JJ abruptly chokes on his soda, pulling it back as he tries to suppress his coughs as she giggles guiltily into her own drink, side eyeing him. Once he’s calmed down, he sits back in his chair and shakes his head, eyebrows raised as his gaze wanders around. 

A couple a few rows ahead seemed to have the itch for intimacy as well, their mouths connected more often than not and that’s when Kiara really couldn’t unsee it, the couples that surrounded them.

They were all making little sounds of pleasure, as if they knew exactly what they were doing. 

“You’d think there’s something in the water," JJ whispers as he leans over to her. She was glad she wasn’t the only one seeing it. She leans over to him. 

“Maybe we’re just late to the party.” 

It wasn’t meant to come out the way she hears it but she doesn’t take it back, turning to look at the hesitant smirk on his lips. He cocks his head to the side, reminding her of how quickly he can turn from completely innocent to mischievous.

It was one of those things he did that she found put butterflies in her stomach. 

“Are you sayin’ something, Kie? ‘Cause I think I know where your heads going and I think I like it.” 

She’s thankful for the darkness that the sunset provided, masking the blush on her cheeks as she shrugs. She misses this side of him more than she thought, almost more than she came prepared for. 

Almost. 

“I’m just sayin’, I mean it’d only make sense, ya know? They don’t seem to care about being discreet so why should we?”

He nods confidently. “If you can’t beat ‘em join ‘em, right?” 

“Right.” 

“We’d be no better than them, then there’s the message we’d be sending-- “

“Since when has that stopped us before?” 

“You’re so right.”

Both of them pause before Kiara tosses the blanket over to where it crosses over the armrests, now sitting in both of their laps. He lifts his chair to close the small gap between them before he pulls the blanket over himself, wiggling his body in a way that makes her try to hold back a snort. 

She quietly rips the bag of chips open, reaching in to grab a few before reaching her arm over and popping them in his mouth. He misses a few, making both of them struggle for composure, causing the woman behind them to tell them to quiet down. 

As the movie crawls towards it’s rising action, Kiara holds their intertwined hands up to her temple, realizing something inside her feels warm and free at the contact and she’s left simply wanting more.

JJ seems more than content in playing along, not holding back an ounce of his amusement and affection which makes it easier than she thought to get up from her seat and make her way over to his chair, crouching down to avoid too many glares. 

He picks up on it immediately, moving his body so she can fit beside him with a lazy smile on his face as she fixes the blanket so it’s covering both of them. 

“How the fuck do we both fit on here?” he whispers through a suppressed laugh as she situates her leg over his middle, fighting a laugh of her own. 

“I have no idea.” 

“Shhh!” The woman behind them shushes through their giddiness, forcing Kiara to hide her face in his chest, feeling the soreness from smiling so hard as he gives a quick apology over his shoulder. 

“I think we’ve succeeded in being the most obnoxious couple,” she murmurs against his warm neck. He puts his hands on her shoulders, squeezing as he whispers back. 

“Hang on, hang on, I have an idea.” 

She sits up as he struggles for a moment, pulling his sweater over his head and handing it to her. She takes it and immediately starts poking her arms through the sleeves, feeling the heat from his sunburned body, almost feverish.

Even in the low light she can still make out the red on his cheeks, making his grin that much more adorable. 

“That’s literally the most boyfriend thing ever, you can’t top that.” He gives a breathless laugh, shaking out the front of his shirt in an effort to cool down. “Plus I’m fucking burning up.” 

The warmth from his burned skin makes her skin tingle, under the blanket where their legs touch and against her forehead as she presses it into his shoulder, trying to stifle her giggles at not having the coordination to pull the sweater on in her position. He tries to help her while he tilts his head to place small kisses along her neck once the sweater is over her head, making her sink into his touch. 

“For the record,” he mumbles between kisses, “this is way better than free Kook food, just sayin’.”

“This is better than a day off.” She closes her eyes and places her head on his shoulder, keeping her hand on his neck, fingers intertwined with his hair.

He tiredly kisses her wrist, humming in agreeance once they finally find themselves in another comfortable position. After a while she assumes he’s fallen asleep and as her eyes are trained to the movie screen, her mind is elsewhere, buzzing from how nice it felt. To see him smile, to feel the exhaustion leave his demeanor and to just feel him beside her. She didn’t realize how cold she was until she felt his warm arm against her back, didn’t realize how tired she was until she felt his chest rise and fall, making her limbs heavy with bliss. She distantly hoped that whatever growing up had in store for her that it would have more of this in it. 

Chapter Text

"Leave your worries by the shore line, 

And run your bare feet through the sand,

Let the water be a soft bed, 

When you cannot bear to stand,

Make friends with the flying seagulls,

And hold the sun up on your palm,

Before you duck beneath the water,

Where the world is mute and calm,

Tell the fish all of your problems,

As they all come swimming past,

When your lungs are close to bursting,

Swim above the waves and gasp,

Let the water hold your sadness, 

And wash it right out to the sea, 

So like a message in a bottle,

All of your worries are set free, 

And the sea might make you feel alone,

But the world has troubles too,

For how else do you supposed, 

The ocean got so blue?" 

Erin Hanson

4. 

Kiara was almost done scraping the dried paint from the table by the time he stopped lecturing.

She liked her art teacher, don’t get her wrong. He was helpful, lively and oftentimes the only teacher of hers that didn’t make her wanna plug her ears with earbuds to escape some form of monotone speech about what to expect after leaving high school or getting a job. But he sometimes got carried away with himself, whether it was over a famous architect or a past student who blew him away with some project, so she preferred to tune out and try to salvage what was left of the poor table that no one ever seemed inclined to clean after using a particularly messy medium.

This time it was a build up of acrylic paint from last week, small flakes falling to the floor at the mercy of the paint stick in her hand, the same flakes that constantly stained her hands and occasionally her arms. 

John B would always make comments, ‘did you manage to get any on the canvas?’ or ‘is it boredom that leads you to always staining your hands or are you just really bad at painting?’ She would usually ignore him, every now and then telling him if he ever actually participated in his art classes, he would know how easy it was to get messy. 

Kiara didn’t mind the messes, though. She considered it a success when she looked down at the end of the day and found speckles of some form of paint or ink or pastel on her hands. It showed she had tried and reminded her of how much she genuinely enjoyed creating things. 

She’s sweeping up the colorful pile of remnants when the bell rings, signaling the end of another long and tiring day.

That was another reason she looked forward to the class -- it was a relaxing close to her day. 

“I’m assuming you’ve made way with the assignment if you’ve resorted to chipping paint off the tables? Is that correct, Kiara?” Mr. Campbell, the school's only art teacher of fifteen years, asks with no real accusation behind it, giving her a small smile. She nods, returning the rest of her materials to their homes before packing up her bag. 

“I noticed they could do with a bit of help and thought why not.” She shrugs shyly, watching him gather a few papers on his desk. 

“Oh, don’t they always. You know, all of our equipment would be better off if anyone actually cared enough to clean up after themselves. Can’t expect too much, though, I suppose. It is a high school, as my wife kindly reminds me every day,” he mutters with a forced smile. 

The man loved his job but his recurring distaste for teenagers habits was somewhat humorous to Kiara and as she thinks back on John B and JJ’s laziness, she couldn’t really blame him. 

He pushes his chair into his desk as he gestures to the back room with his messenger bag. 

“I don’t know how much they left this time but like always, you’re welcome to whatever you wanna take.” 

“Thanks, Mr. Campbell.” 

He gives a dismissive hand before wishing her a good night and stepping out into the hallway. 

Kiara walks over and excitedly scans the shelves, mostly empty -- as it usually was this time of the semester when the pottery class students were nearing their exams and needed anything they could get to pass.

Her eyes land on a decent looking mug sitting in the back beside some other lumps of deformed structures. One looked like a sad attempt at a vase, the other a sorry looking bowl. She reaches for the mug, a slow smile forming as her stained fingers wrap around its sturdy handle. 

The Chateau had housed their ‘hangover mugs’ for almost a year now and only up until recently, all four of them sat in one of the cupboards, waiting to be used, usually after a particularly hard night of partying. Kiara had convinced the boys that they needed them, that she had finally mastered her matcha tea recipe and that she was going to incorporate it into their barely-able-to-walk-in-the-morning-hangover routines. She had read somewhere that the antioxidants helped with alcohol consumption, and that they did a lot of.

It wasn’t until a few weeks ago that JJ decided it would be a good idea to set his mug on a chair and forget it was there until someone came along and pulled the chair out, causing it to shatter. 

Kiara turned the new mug over a few times, examining the overall quality, momentarily wondering why the creator scrapped it in the first place. Placing it all the way to the left side of the shelf, she scrawls out her name on a piece of masking tape to claim it, making sure there was leftover glaze for her as well. 

--

As soon as she throws her car in park she can tell something’s off. There’s usually some show of life around John B’s house -- light spilling from the windows, ribbons of smoke in the back from a campfire, laughing and hollering from inside the walls. The boys were never known for being quiet.

But as she steps out, sandals hitting the familiar patch of dirt and stone, the only sound is the slam of her car door, echoing in the soft humid afternoon air. 

Entering the living room doesn’t prove much better. Pope is on his stomach on the pullout, looking a little out of it as he just stares at the stack of books John B was sorting through near the table. She assumed that’s what he was doing by the way he glanced over the covers before placing them in one of the three piles he had started.

Then again, he might also just be trying to distract himself, the sight reminding her of when his dad would leave for days at a time. 

As soon as she closed the screen door, his head raised from its bent position, his face breaking out in a small smile. 

“Hey, Kie.” 

“Hey,” she replies, a little questioningly as she peers around the room, “what’s up?”

John B just shrugs, looking back at his books before glancing over to Pope, who doesn’t even acknowledge her presence. Kiara walks over to the kitchen, pulling open one of the cabinets to confirm her memory of the broken mug.

Three mugs line the side of the shelf, just as she thought. She eyes her friends again, this time not holding back her concern. 

“The fuck happened? Y’all are abnormally quiet and there’s like some seriously heavy energy in here.”

John B looks at her again, a little expectantly, looking a little lost for words. “It’s JJ’s birthday this weekend.” 

“Yeah, what about it?” she pauses, trying to put together what he’s saying, looking over at Pope. “Wait, you guys didn’t try to do anything, right?” 

“No! ‘Course not," John B brushes off, as if she should know better. She did, but that still didn’t give her a clear answer as to why they were acting weird. 

JJ didn’t like surprises and he hated birthdays. Kiara was initially confused by this, especially considering the extent of the boy's spontaneity. Ever since they were young, he was always up for a change in plans and last minute adventures but whenever the Pogues attempted something behind his back it was obvious that he was thrown off in the bad way. 

Over time, Kiara’s picked up on the little things like how he prefers waking up at the same time every day if he has the choice and how he’ll only head home if it’s before 11p.m. and after that he stays with John B. He brushes his teeth before showering and gets dressed after breakfast -- if he manages to eat anything because if it was too early, forget about it. He doesn’t drink coffee but energy drinks are his Achilles heel. When he’s driving his dad’s truck and it’s low on fuel, which it usually was, he buys a sweet tea after filling up the tank. He takes the same roads and tries to see at least one of them after a long day at work. Kiara always assumed it had something to do with giving his mind a break from work and home because neither have ever treated him that well and honestly Kiara would be lying if she said she didn’t perk up when one of the boys stopped by The Wreck during her shift. 

She saw these things and understood that just because he was easy going and even easier to please, he also needed routine and structure. He needed a sense of control and surprises took what little amount he had and obliterated it.

So that’s why when his birthdays come around, the Pogues no longer throw surprise parties and Kiara was okay with that. She knew there were other ways to make his day a little brighter than most without having to plan an elaborate secret party. 

The birthday thing still confused her though. 

“It’s just he…” John B continues. “You know how he gets around this time. He and Pope got into it over the tiniest thing earlier and I think he’s just pissed off over something. Plus, he and his dad may or may not’ve had a fight this morning.” 

She can’t help the deep sigh that escapes her, heavily leaning against the counter for a moment, looking around. 

“Where is he now?”

“Out back, I think. Didn’t really seem that keen on company at the time, so…” John B mumbles, gesturing to the back door. 

The hammock isn’t rocking but a leg could be seen off to the side, giving away JJ’s whereabouts immediately. She calls out his name so as not to sneak up on him but he ignores it and she can’t say she’s surprised. 

“Hey.” It’s soft and she hopes she keeps the waver out of it when her eyes land on his face, the side shadowed with dark red bruises, soon to turn the purple she was uncomfortably familiar with seeing.

He glances at her, jutting his chin out in a silent greeting before turning his focus back up in the tree, eyes filled with numerous unspoken words. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

He sits for a second, answering with pulling his leg up and scooting his body over, a gesture that tells her he doesn’t trust his voice all that much yet. She lowers herself onto the hammock beside him, her eyes gliding around the same branches he was so fixated on at the moment. 

For a while, they stay like this, a comfortable silence enveloping them as the lazy wind brushes through the leaves above them. She swallows hard, unable to stay quiet while JJ’s thoughts were loud and clear right beside her head. 

“JJ?”

“Yeah?”

Instead of unloading all of her worry and concern she held towards him, she turns her head to his and decides on something else. 

“You wanna help me in the art room tomorrow after school? I’m doing this thing-- “

He gently grabs her hand absently, without thinking, it seemed, and holds it up in his, something she couldn’t quite place behind his tired eyes. 

“Does it have to do with this?” He taps an interlocked finger against the back of her hand, where patches of purple and yellow paint stuck like birthmarks and she smiles a little -- they might as well be for how often they’re there. 

“No, actually. This was a different thing.” She shakes her hand a bit before squeezing his, studying the way his face seemed more relaxed now. His eyes remain fixed on their hands when he does a little nod. 

“I’m down. As long as you don’t keep me there too long. Wouldn’t wanna spend any extra time in that place than I already have to.” 

She snorts, watching a smirk pull at his lips. “You already skip at least twice a week.” 

“Yeah and I’m not about to compensate for that freedom. Besides, who’s counting that shit anyways?” 

“I’m pretty sure they have attendance records for that specific reason, actually.” 

“Eh. Attendance is for the weak.” 

She scrunches her nose with a humored exhale just as he glances over at her. “That doesn’t make any goddamn sense, JJ.” 

“Sure it does, Kie. I can’t imagine your attendance record is squeaky clean either, right?”

“Obviously not.” 

“Then I’m right. Punctuality is overrated.” 

She knew he was just trying to get out of his head and it relieved her, even if he ended up spewing nonsense. This time she started chuckling. 

“Punctuality is overrated,” she repeats, a hint of tease behind her voice which only makes him give her a look, “well, when you put it that way-- “

“Shut up,” he says, fond exasperation evident in his soft smile as he nudges her shoulder, shaking his head. 

--

The next day led her to believe that by the weekend JJ would have a birthday present and a resurrected hangover mug and she was determined to keep it like that.

After not finding a good glaze at the store, she decided she’d ask to use some of the art departments supplies and to her delight, Mr. Campbell had told her to knock herself out. 

It was her plan B though. She usually tried not to use any extra supplies as their school wasn’t exactly abundantly funded and any supplies they did get were poorly used by students who couldn’t care less about washing their brushes properly or being mindful of the amount of paper they used. 

Kiara carefully rolls up her sleeves for what felt like the tenth time as she stirs the pre-mixed underglaze and overglaze, glancing up at JJ across from her.

She tries not to tease his focus as his gloved hands work at sanding out the mugs surface. He held it with a level of delicacy and precision, turning it over occasionally to check for more imperfections and honestly, Kiara found it a little endearing. She liked seeing him get carried away with things, when he was unaware of the way he bit his cheek distractedly and the way his blue eyes studied what was in front of him in a way that made her stare a little too long. 

She’s only a tad bit embarrassed at the fact that he’s aware she’s watching him. 

She remembers when he taught Pope how to tie his fishing line to his hook, showing him at least five different knots in the process with his skilled fingers. JJ was always good at knots, always tying random pieces of string and rope his fidgeting hands had managed to find. 

JJ finally stops sanding, reaching for the damp sponge beside him as his eyes blink rapidly from strain. She swipes at a strand of hair that annoyingly sat on her forehead as she takes a deep breath, sitting up a little straighter. 

“You almost done over there?” 

He stops wiping the side and holds it out in front of him, examining his work, a satisfied glint in his eyes. 

“I feel like I just gave birth.” 

She snorts as she checks the bottom of the mixes for sludge, pulling the paint stick up to note the consistency. “Yeah? How so? I’m intrigued.” 

“I mean, I’m no expert-- “

“You don’t say-- “

“Yeah, whatever, I’m no expert, but whoever made this thing really slacked off in the detail.” 

She gently starts to pour the glaze in a smaller dish, momentarily taking her eyes off the gesture to look for a spare brush.

“Well, it wasn’t going to be turned in in the first place so maybe whoever made it knew they fucked up. But I don’t think it’s quite enough to compare it to childbirth, if I’m being honest-- “

Once her eyes find a pile of brushes on one of the neighboring tables she feels the mixture slip from her grip last minute, causing her to lean her middle towards it and stop it from dropping to the floor. A smear of blue glaze paints itself down the side of her cardigan, causing her to sigh loudly in frustration. 

“Shit.” She arranges the glaze in a sturdier position before removing her gloves.

“This was my favorite cardigan,” she mumbles, barely short of a whine.

JJ, who appears as though fighting a smile, shakes his head and starts pulling his own gloves from his hands. 

“You’d think someone who spends as much time around stuff that can stain clothes would wear something a little less sentimental,” JJ manages through a cough, probably hiding a laugh.

Kiara raises her eyebrows at him as she pulls off the clothing, trying to feel annoyed at the comment but finding her disappointment slip away as he starts unzipping his hoodie, pulling his arms from the sleeves and sliding it across the table towards her. 

“Here, you can keep it.” 

“Okay, first, I didn’t get time to change into something else after school and second, I’m not gonna take your hoodie, JJ, it’s fine.”

“No, go ahead,” he presses, gesturing to the hoodie on the table innocently. Kiara just rolls her eyes, debating taking it. She’d never admit it aloud, the extent at which she loved taking JJ’s clothes. 

JJ lazily swipes the used gloves from the table and swivels towards the direction of the trash, tossing them effortlessly. “You know, it’s the least I can do since you just ruined your cardigan making my birthday present.”

Her head snaps up and she stares at him, slightly amused she’d been outed. Still, she gives an innocent little “What do you mean?” just to make him smile. It works. 

“Very cute, I’ll admit,” he says cheekily, making her give a pfft as she grabs his hoodie, slipping it on before reaching for a paint brush. 

“C’mon, JJ, I couldn’t let you go without a hangover mug for much longer. I wouldn’t want you to feel left out like that,” she explains, knowing how he felt about their hangover mugs and how her matcha recipe was only a ‘placebo cure’. 

“I think if you really cared about me finding out about it then you wouldn’t have made me sit and watch you practically make it.”

He makes his way over to her, pulling out a stool beside hers and plops down on it, leaning the side of his head against his fist as he observes her, eyes following her movements as she dips the brush in the glaze and starts making strokes against its now smooth surface. 

It’s true, she wasn’t too concerned with the fact that he knows about his present. After all, he didn’t like surprises. 

“Fair.” She shrugs and tilts her head, mentally mapping out a few designs on the mug as she glances over to him. His relaxation would be all the more comforting if it weren’t for the bruises that sat on his skin, reminding her of yesterday, of the way he couldn’t seem to even find his voice as he gazed into the trees, his stiff limbs taking longer than usual to loosen under her touch. 

She figured she’d give it another shot, trying to get him to open up. After all, hurting himself was the last thing she ever wanted for him and going quiet about things she knew burrowed deep inside him wasn’t exactly the healthiest habit. 

“JJ?”

“Hmm?”

“Why don’t you like celebrating your birthday?”

She keeps her focus on the mug so as to not put pressure on him, hearing him pause and shift on his stool for a moment before giving a long sigh. 

“Birthdays are for kids. They’re kinda pointless after you hit middle school.” 

Instead of pointing out that even in middle school he despised the concept of birthdays and instead of reminding him of the lengthy conversation they had with the Pogues about the extremes he would go to during his birthday if he was at ‘Kook status’, despite said conversation taking place while they were all under the influence and high as kites, she settles for a lighter sentiment. 

“You kinda are a kid, JJ.” 

He scoffs, something between a laugh and a cough, at knowing maybe this discussion wouldn’t be so easy to avoid this time. She waits patiently, the only sounds being an occasional locker being slammed shut and the squeak of someone's shoes against the floor as they sit in the spacious colorful room.

She starts painting little waves around the mug by the time he caves. 

“After my mom left, I guess my birthday was when I expected her to come back.” 

She stops painting, peering over at him with a sudden heavy feeling in her stomach. She supposed it had to do with a particular birthday, every kid had that one shitty birthday that potentially turned them away from the holiday altogether, right? She didn’t expect this, half wondering whether she should’ve just let it go. 

JJ seems to sense her silent apology, giving a little shake of his head as he runs a shaky hand through his already disheveled hair. “It’s fine, Kie,” he mumbles tiredly but reassuringly. “I just… I didn’t know if she was really gone for good yet, but I kinda figured if she did come back, it would be for my birthday. And spoiler alert,” he gives a forced laugh, “that didn’t happen.” 

Kiara continued the small waves with alternating lengths of strokes, adding some form of depth with different thicknesses, feeling JJ’s eyes on her. She swallows, shaking her head a little. 

“I’m sorry, JJ, I didn’t know.”

“Kie, it’s fine, no one does,” he repeats casually, “Well, actually, now you do. You and no one else.” 

Her heart flutters at the notion, turning to look at him again, paint brush hovering over the table. She nods towards his cheek.

“And the fight with your dad yesterday, was that what it was about?” 

He hesitates for a moment, self consciously rubbing the bruises and shrugging as he forces his eyes back on hers, giving a stiff nod. 

“Somethin’ like that, yeah.” 

They both release a deep breath, as if mutually acknowledging the weight being lifted from their chests as she finishes the blue waves. JJ continues to watch her, silently realizing just how much he enjoyed doing so. 

“Birthdays are kinda shitty, I guess, but,” Kiara finally sets down the brush and carefully slides it a few inches towards him, leaning closer to press a kiss on his forehead, which he leans into shamelessly, “Happy Birthday, JJ.” 

As soon as she pulls back, JJ tilts his head to examine the mug, wanting to reach out and touch it and run his fingers along the textured little waves -- Kiara’s attention to detail never failed to impress him -- but he remembers her telling him to touch it as minimally as possible until it’s out of the kiln so he holds back, promising himself he wouldn’t break this one. 

Instead, he slowly reaches out for her arms, wrapping his own around her, feeling her do the same, feeling her hands rub small circles on his back. 

“Thanks, Kie.” 

Chapter Text

"Life can be the sunshine, 

On peaceful days with bright blue skies,

Or life can be the raindrops,

That fall like tears squeezed from your eyes,

Life can be the heaven,

That you'll only reach through hell,

Since you won't know that you're happy,

If you've not been sad as well,

Life can teach hard lessons,

But you'll be wiser once you know,

That even roses need both sunshine,

And a touch of rain to grow." 

Erin Hanson

5.

“I think I’ll just have it be known, I am in first place, hands down.”

“Oh really? You mean you announcing it every five minutes wasn’t you making it known?” Kiara pretends not to see the smirk on JJ’s face out of the corner of her eye as she sifts through another handful of sand, squinting through the foggy water, slowly rearranging the small shells in her palm with her thumb until they are clean enough. “Interesting.” 

She gently adds a couple of keepers into the small bag in her other hand, glancing up and finally noticing JJ’s bag was in fact more copious compared to the rest of theirs. 

“I’m sorry,” John B starts in a high innocent voice, face focused two inches away from the murky water that just barely passed their knees, arm buried up to his shoulder. “I must’ve missed the part where this was made into a competition.” 

“Everything’s a competition with JJ,” Pope mutters absently, a tone of frustration in his voice as he tosses a clump of mud back into the water, causing obnoxious ripples across its surface, distorting the view. John B jerks his head up at the small splash, giving his friend a defeated “Dude.” 

JJ shrugs innocently, readjusting his stance in the water. 

“You guys don’t have to be jealous, I’m just keeping things interesting. C’mon digging through shitty water to find a handful of shells isn’t my idea of exciting-- “

“There’s no shit in this water, JJ,” John B clarifies sarcastically, peering into the cloudy water with a look of pure focus on his face. “It’s not shitty water.”

“Thanks, genius,” JJ mumbles, “it’s just nearly impossible to see through which is exactly what I’m being forced to do right now-- “

“You seem to be fairing pretty well, there, buddy.” John B raises his eyebrows at the bag in JJ’s hands. 

“This trip was totally voluntary! Just an FYI,” Pope adds, as if it wasn’t the first time he’s given the reminder.

Which it wasn’t. 

“Yeah,” JJ whines, shaking his bag of shells in his hand distractedly, “but your mom’s really nice and you said she likes this kinda shit, right?”

“I did. And she does, that is correct.” 

“John B, where do you think fish poop goes?” Kiara asks, still hung up on his shit-water comment. John B just points an accusing finger at her, as if to say ‘don’t even go there’.

“Outta sight, outta mind, that’s where.” 

“It’s not out of sight! We’re literally swimming in it, dude.” JJ motions repeatedly around towards the water and Kiara takes his little debate as a chance to stretch her back, which had been hunched over the water for the last twenty minutes. 

When Pope had mentioned taking the trip, Kiara was more than happy to join him, especially after he explained the reasoning for the outing. Mrs. Heywards birthday was coming up and even Kiara knew that the woman appreciated little things like the shells they were all currently gathering.

She had collections of things from when she and her husband would travel, small pieces of the places they’ve been to to remember them by and Kiara secretly adored the concept of it all, hoping to do the same one day.

Mrs. Heyward was like a second mother to her and she knew the same was true for both John B and JJ -- maybe even the only mother figure in their cases -- so to say the least, they were also surprisingly open to the idea of putting together something nice for her birthday. 

The water was warm where it lightly lapped against her legs and paired with the gentle breeze that blew through her braided hair, she could almost fully enjoy it and ignore the fact that all the boys seemed to do was complain about the transparency of the water.

She had lost track of the amount of times she told them that really, they were all just too impatient to stand still and let the sand settle. 

Of course pretending to be miserable was more entertaining to them, though. She's caught on and has given up. 

Pope was standing near her, arms crossed against his chest as he stared at the water, annoyed and defeated. She leans an elbow towards him. 

“Hey, don’t worry. I’m sure we’ve got enough, Pope. Between the four of us, there’s bound to be some good ones.” 

“Yeah,” he admits after a minute of stubborn contemplation, his face finally losing some of the worry that always took over when it had to do with either of his parents. “We should get going before it’s dark.” 

“I second that,” John B announces, sealing his small bag of shells and sluggishly making his way towards the sparse grass. Pope follows after a moment. 

“What spot am I in?” Kiara asks, starting to drag her legs through the water, trying to get a peek into JJ’s bag, which he was currently studying. He glances up at her, suddenly hiding his bag away from her like a kid hoarding candy. 

Ever since they had decided to harmlessly close the gap in their friendship and test the waters of a relationship, JJ’s playfulness has hit a level even Kiara didn’t think was possible. She wasn’t complaining, though. A day where she didn’t feel butterflies from something as trifling as a sideways smirk was a day wasted, in her opinion. 

“Last.” 

“You’re so lying,” she mumbles after her false display of shock, raising her eyebrows in a challenging way. He mirrors her expression, reminding her of the look on his face when she would give him a dare when they were kids. It was unhealthy, the lengths they would go to just to complete a dare, to avoid giving the other the possible satisfaction of knowing they’ve succeeded in reaching an impossible height when one of them started with ‘I dare you to…’

“I’m not.” To his credit, he doesn’t crack under her pressing eyes and it almost impresses her. 

“Why’re you so sure?” 

“‘Cause you took your time with them, picking all the good ones.” 

“So you’re saying I’m too slow?”

“Your words, not mine.” She nudges him, a mischievous smile on his lips as he catches his balance and nudges her back, not holding back while trying to knock her in the water. A giggle escapes her as she too almost topples over, causing a little splash. She starts to half run through the water towards the grass, shouting over her shoulder. 

“If I’m so slow then try to beat me to the shore!” 

She hears him start making his own splashes in his own awkward run, suppressing a laugh that brought a smile to her face. She feels drops of water hit the back of her thighs and arms but she can only chuckle a little breathlessly.

“I see how it is! At least I play by the rules--”

“Since when is that true--” 

She was just trying to close up her small bag when it drops from her hands and hits the water the very second a piercing pain shoots through her foot and up her leg. The breath leaves her lungs as a cold sweat breaks out all over her body, forcing her to stop and stumble forward, spitting out a swear that turns all heads towards her. 

JJ stops his sloppy pursuit and quickly makes his way over to her, confused eyes searching her body, cheerful voice sounding winded beside her.

“Yo, what’s wrong? What happened?”

Kiara couldn’t really form words in her head let alone project them aloud so instead she just looks down to check for herself, a knot already forming in her throat at the pain. A cloud of red below her sends a wave of panic through her suddenly heavy limbs. 

“Shit!”

“Oh yeah, that is not good,” JJ follows her eyes, reaching out to grab her arms when she tries to take another step, failing in the process. 

“Shit, shit, shit-- ” 

“JB! We got a problem!”

She can already hear the forced composure in his voice, the same composure that usually keeps at least one of their heads from spinning when emotions become high. 

“Oh, God.” Pope’s eyes only linger for half a second before he turns his whole body, something between alarm and disgust written all over his face. JJ glances over at him, trying to hand him his bag of shells with one arm still intertwined with Kiara’s.

“Dude, if you’re gonna puke or pass out or both, can you at least take this and get outta the water first?”

Pope doesn’t turn around but holds out his hand, blindly reaching for the bag, trying to sound sympathetic. “I’m sorry, Kie, that’s just a lot of blood.” 

“Yeah, no shit!” JJ says a little panicked as he guides her to the grass and Kiara can’t help but feel frustrated, her pain seemingly multiplying at their unease. 

“Guys, chill out! Seriously!” she urges, hearing the growing dread she feels translate directly into her tone.

John B finally makes his way over and she has to look away when she sees his face pale at the sight. 

“Ooh, what the fuck?” he mumbles, eyes bouncing from the water to the grass to Pope, then between JJ and Kiara, looking unsure of what to do with his body, whether to help or to watch.

JJ’s arms remain outstretched, holding Kiara’s as they carefully climb onto the grass. As soon as her right foot leaves the water, the damage is made clear and Kiara only barely manages to hold back a bitter cry. She awkwardly collapses to the ground as JJ tries to steady her. 

“I think I stepped on something. Like-- like a bottle, or something," she offers through desperately trying to form a coherent sentence. As long as she’s calm and collected, the easier it will be to assess the situation, she tells herself.

She glances up at JJ who doesn’t seem as disturbed as Pope or John B but still holds a look of worry as he observes the wound. He catches her looking at him and wipes the concern away as best he can, shrugging. 

“It’s basically a paper cut.” 

“JJ, she’s literally bleeding out!” John B finally steps closer, voice reaching a level she didn’t quite appreciate at the moment. Whether it’s from the sight, the thought or the blood loss, she has chosen to look anywhere but, feeling her limbs becoming tingly and her head starting to swim. “Did you not notice the freaking hole in her foot?!”

“Dude, stop! You’re scaring me!” Kiara snaps. 

“Are you holding it above your heart?” Pope asks, still keeping his gaze away from the scene altogether. JJ shakes his head as Kiara gives him a lost look. 

“W-what do you mean?”

“Your foot, Kie, elevate it above your heart so it stops the blood flow! And put pressure on it, too-- ”

Kiara props her foot up on her knee, lowering herself back on her elbows as she tries to slow her panicked breathing, feeling her hair stick to the sweat on her neck. The air was stuffy and motionless, the wind apparently no longer interested in keeping them cool. 

JJ quickly starts to pull his hoodie over his head just as John B kneels beside him, shoving it in his hands and gesturing to Kiara’s injury. 

“Here, what Pope said.” 

John B doesn’t hesitate, dropping his bag of shells and situating himself to tie off the cut. “This might hurt a little.” 

Kiara immediately reaches out for the nearest thing -- which happens to be JJ’s hand -- and squeezes, both from the feel of the fabric seeping into the wound and the panic she felt at their reactions. The sting turned into a burn which turned into a stabbing ache that left her whole body tensing up as John B lightly pushes on the already blood-soaked hoodie.

She lets out another swear just as JJ’s other hand wraps around their intertwined fingers, accepting the fact that she just might be holding onto them for dear life. 

“You’re doin’ good, Kie-- ”

“This is so not a paper cut, JJ.” 

He gives her hand a sympathetic squeeze, letting out a light chuckle, one that only slightly distracts her from John B’s cursing. She sits up, giving him a pleading look.

“Bro, if you’re gonna be squeamish, then just let me-- ” 

“No, no, I’m fine, it’s just a coping mechanism-- ” 

She blinks up to the sky in irritation, “Well cope with a different mechanism, please?” 

“Guys, I think we should go to the hospital," Pope states, this time turning a bit to check on them. John B nods encouragingly, pointing up at Pope. 

“I’m down.” Kiara decides she likes the idea, probably more so by the second, especially since she can feel herself possibly going into shock.

At least, that’s what she assumed this is what that felt like. Not getting an infection sounded nice, too. She starts to sit up, feeling one of JJ’s hands at her back as he helps her stand, just as the ground starts spinning a bit. 

“Woah, woah, damn, Kie. Take it easy,” JJ mumbles as John B starts digging through his pockets for the keys, running to the van with Pope beside him. “I gotcha.” 

They make it a couple of feet from the van with one of her arms slung across his shoulder when her vision goes completely black for a moment, causing both of them to nearly take a spill. She feels her legs being lifted and before she knows it they’re finally in the back of the van. Whether they were moving or not was another story -- the ground hadn’t stopped moving for a while. 

She clumsily sets her foot up on a seat as she lays her head back in JJ’s lap, both of them sprawled on the floor of the van. Closing her eyes, she reaches for his hand, hoping doing so would stop hers from shaking so much.

He catches on, holding onto hers with both hands again, only every once in a while brushing away a strand of hair from her face and making a comment about how shitty of a driver John B was. 

When they arrive at the hospital he’s there, guiding her out of the van and through the sliding doors to the emergency room. When they’re told to sit and wait for someone to come out and take care of her he’s there, providing a shoulder to lay against as she props her foot up on one of the chairs. When she tries to text her parents about what happened and fails from the shaking in her hands he’s there, listening and repeating her words as he types them into her phone. 

“Tell them I got cut on the beach but that I’m getting it checked out and everything’s fine. Tell them not to worry.”

He spoke slowly, his fingers flying across the keyboard. “M’kay. ‘This is your daughters boyfriend--’ ”

“JJ-- ”

“I got it, Kie, don’t worry.”

“JJ, don’t be weird and freak them out-- ” 

“Yeah, I know. ‘She’s totally fine--’ ”

“Don’t put ‘totally’, that’s freaking them out-- ” 

When fifteen minutes painfully dragged by and she had nothing to think about except for the throbbing pain in her foot that was sending her heart through her chest he was there, telling Pope to go and ask if there was anyone available yet. 

Pope gives Kiara a short apologetic look from where he sat beside JJ before shaking his head. “Dude, I’m pretty sure we’d know if they were ready for us-- ” 

“Go check anyways.”

Kiara knew that the emergency room was never a guarantee of immediate help, contrary to the seemingly popular belief, and she always looked down on people who behaved entitled so as she tries to rearrange herself in a more comfortable position, she tries not to dwell on the wait she has ahead of her.

She also doesn’t ignore JJ’s increasing impatience either. She takes a deep breath, trying to remind herself that her foot has essentially stopped bleeding so the worst was already over, right? 

JJ turns his head from where he was staring at Pope and the receptionist, eyes scanning her body once again. “You good?”

She too breaks her stare, peering up at him from where she was slumped against his side, the only boundary between them being the small wooden armrest. She eyes his bouncing leg, the one that ever since they had sat down has not stopped moving. 

“Yeah, you?”

“What about me?” he asks, scrunching his eyebrows together but speaking casually, “I’m not the one with a hole in my foot, Kie.” 

She pauses, rolling her eyes, knowing he knew what she meant. She softly slaps his thigh at his reminder of her injury. 

“Then why do you look like you’re in more pain than me?” 

He stops bouncing his leg as if he’s been caught, playing it off with carefully sitting up a little straighter before returning to his position of slouching back in the chair. He gives a sharp shake of his head, looking down at her again. 

“No offence, but your face is ghostly and you’re giving my arm a death grip, so I think between the two of us, as far as looks go, ehh…” 

“Oh my God, JJ-- ” 

“I’m serious! I mean like-- ” he situates himself to face her more, brushing away a thin braid “--do you need a juice or something ‘cause I don’t want you passing out on me-- ” 

“Passing out?” John B immediately leans out of his chair beside Pope from where he was on his phone to check on his friend, a worried edge to his voice. “She passed out?”

“No!” Kiara rubs her forehead with her free hand, trying to hide her face and maybe some blush at JJ’s teases. “Jesus, JJ…” 

He gives a guilty chuckle, squeezing her hand while he tilts his head to catch her hidden eyes. She doesn’t give him the satisfaction, not really having the energy it took, digging her face into his sleeve further, mumbling about how he can’t help himself. 

“Actually, a juice does sound good,” JJ announces, turning to John B and Pope. John B nods in agreeance, shoving a hand in his pocket for spare change, eyeing the vending machine a few feet away from them. 

“It doesn’t work,” Pope deadpans, receiving a hurt look from John B.

“Did you try it?” John B asks, standing up. 

“No, but other people have-- ” 

“What people? When?”

“What do you mean ‘what people’? Like literally five minutes ago, you watched them-- ” 

“I didn’t watch anyone, dude-- ”

Kiara uncovers her face at their banter, realizing the pain was becoming harder to ignore by the minute. She looked around the room, catching the eyes of a few other people waiting to be looked at. One was a middle aged man who had a look of extreme discomfort and annoyance on his face as he read through a magazine. Not far from him was a young woman rubbing the back of a little boy, both looking tired and way past ready to go home. 

She sighs again, trying to be inconspicuous about it as another wave of pain shoots up her leg, reaching her other hand for JJ’s without really thinking. 

“JJ, can you just talk or something? Please?”

“Huh?”

“About anything, just say something, ya know. Distract me.” 

“Umm…” he watches her for a second before glancing out of the windows and doors, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Well, this hospital is about five minutes away from the beach that I first made out with-- ”

“Seriously?” she asks, hearing John B and Pope give similar sounds of disapproval. “The first thing that comes to mind?” 

“What? You said about anything, so yeah. First place my mind went.” 

“You’re such an idiot,” she weakly chuckles out, knowing the odds of making out with someone truly being the first thing that came to his mind were lower than usual, judging by the nervous look on his face.

She uses the heel of her hand to wipe at her cheeks which started to feel wet, which made her disgustingly aware of how her whole body was pretty much covered in sweat, including her hands, which were still locked with JJ’s. He didn’t seem to mind. At least she thought, until she feels him shake her hand a little, his voice softer and more serious. 

“Hey, I know it’s a moving story, but it’s not worth crying over, Kie.” 

She pulls their hands so they’re at her chest. “Fuck whoever littered that fucking bottle.” 

“Yeah.” He stares across the room a little absently at first before clearing his throat. “You know, I think JB holds the record for number of times in the emergency room. I mean, I don’t think Pope’ll ever end up in the hospital, he’s too safe.” 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Pope mutters, flipping through the pages of a handout on osteoarthritis. 

“No I didn’t,” JJ denies lightly, “I said it how it is, which is fact. You don’t see John B denying it because he knows it’s true.” 

“Yup,” John B nods once, continuing to scroll through his phone once he discovered that Pope was right and the vending machine was truly broken. Kiara shakes her head at their boyishness, wondering if they were ever going to outgrow it. 

“And I’m just smart about shit-- ”

“You’re giving yourself way too much credit,” she says, a little out of it but still letting a smile crawl to her face at his confidence. “You get hurt, you just don’t go to the hospital.” 

“Yeah, ‘cause they’re a waste of money most times.”

“So that one time you literally almost cut off your finger while peeling carrots while cooking -- trying to cook -- with John B would’ve been a wasted trip to the hospital? Like straight up?”

“Yes,” he answers without missing a beat, not a hint of question in his voice. 

“Really? ‘Cause I recall you almost passing out by the sink-- ”

“That was purely from second hand worry, I was fine until Pope started to freak the fuck out.” 

Kiara snorts at the memory, watching Pope patiently put down his pamphlet and look at JJ with wild confusion.

“What am I supposed to do when I find that much blood on the floor?!” 

The woman sitting a dozen feet away gives them a concerned glimpse, one Pope and JJ seem blind to in their debate. 

“You could start with not losing your cool at the mere sight of it, that’s a start. It’s just blood, bro, for someone who’s going to dead body school-- ” 

"Dead body school," John B repeats, giggling to himself.

“It’s different, JJ, we’ve literally talked about this so many times-- ”

“Sure it is.”

John B leans over, holding his phone to Pope perhaps as a distraction so the two won’t bicker about the sore subject for the tenth time and Kiara catches his smile.

JJ’s started bouncing his leg again, biting his cheek as he observed the receptionist with impatient eyes. 

“It’s a good thing we don’t need immediate attention, or anything,” he mumbles. “What the fuck is taking so long?”

“Hey,” Kiara shakes his hand, sitting up a little straighter to get his attention. He looks at her but continues to bounce his leg, causing her to reach out and place her hand on his thigh. “Calm down. This is normal for emergency rooms-- ” 

“Then why did we even come here, again?”

“‘Cause not everyone has a grudge against hospitals like you.” 

“I don’t have a grudge-- ” 

“I would beg to differ.” Instead of outwardly asking, Kiara decides to dance around the subject, knowing he’d fall in step with her if he wants to.

She always knew JJ was sensitive when it came to hospitals but she never really knew why, and she didn’t really want to put him on the spot if it was because of something serious. 

JJ studies her face for a full minute, something unreadable in his expression. If she had to guess, and maybe if she didn’t feel like the room was tilting here and there, she would say it was reluctance. He suddenly looks away, giving a sharp shake of his head, studying the floor instead. 

“It’s just a fucking miserable place, ya know? Just not somewhere you wanna be a lot as a kid but I guess…” he gives a forced laugh, the discomfort clear as day, a mannerism she always knew meant ‘I’ll talk about this but I’m not gonna like it’. She starts rubbing the back of his hand with her thumb, a gesture they both shared when they wanted to let the other know they were being heard. 

“Guess Dad didn’t really care about that, though. It was only a couple times where it got really bad, like to the point where my mom had to force him into the car after he had gotten completely wasted. And she didn’t want anyone to know about it, didn’t feel comfortable dropping me off with Big John yet so I had to go with her. And just wait for them to release him.” 

At first, Kiara can’t really find her words. The image of a young JJ and what she always pictured as a blonde woman sitting and waiting for Luke to get released, after putting whatever poison he had chosen to put into his body, suddenly clouded her mind. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t suspected his ‘grudge’ to be something related to Luke, but maybe she really didn’t want to accept the fact that the man had shimmied his way into yet another one of JJ”s fucked up ordeals. 

“Plus,” JJ adds, tone striving for some levity in the conversation at Kiara’s lack of response, a habit of his she’s seen more than she’d like to admit, some sort of panicked attempt at kicking the emotional weight under the rug, “hospitals are insanely expensive.” 

She chuckles a bit and she’s not proud of it, but how could she not when JJ pulls such a JJ stunt, admitting to disliking hospitals out of being forced to spend hours of his childhood in them due to his dad’s alcoholism then to turn around and comment on their overpriced practices. 

She rubs her eyes again, knowing he’ll decline her next offer but she gives it regardless, knowing he’d dismiss any sort of apology quicker than she could speak it. 

“JJ, you don’t have to wait with me, you and JB can go and pick Pope and I up when we’re done-- ”

“Yeah,” JJ gives her a look, shaking his head as if he’s clearly already made up his mind. “That’s not happening.” 

“I’m serious, you guys… gotta go get more shells, ‘cause I think I lost mine.” It’s an excuse she pulls straight out of her ass and yet it stands perfectly true, ironically.

He picks up on it instantaneously. 

“Not a chance, I collected enough for the both of us, remember? And besides-- ” he raises the hand she’s been holding onto for the last twenty five minutes, her white knuckles indicating what he was going on about “--who’s arm will you hold in a death grip if I leave?”

“I feel like you’re enjoying this more than you should.” 

He responds with a quiet yet smug look, one that despite the fact her stomach is already in knots, there’s a fluttering feeling that follows. Then he lifts his hand again, only to turn it and playfully kiss the back of her own hand, not caring about the looks that Pope and John B were giving him. 

“Am I distracting enough?” 

She lifts his hand to do the same, smiling into the small peck while she nods. “I promise I won’t make you go to the emergency room, JJ. Or any hospitals.” She’s only half joking but she knew that if it came down to it, she had no problem reasoning with him if the injury was severe enough and she was fairly certain he knew it as well. 

After her name is called, everything else happens in a blur. As she’s sitting on the table, one hand still thankfully wrapped in JJ’s, she begins to regret not asking for a juice or at least a snack. She keeps her eyes closed the entire time, not interested in how it’s taken care of just that it is, not even caring to remember how many stitches or how often to take the medication they gave her when they were ‘all done’.  

Strangely enough, JJ’s the one to make small talk in the office and listen to all of the after care instructions and information on the pills. She doesn’t remember what he said and doesn’t really know if it was bred from his nervous energy or not but she was grateful for his voice more than she realized. 

As they’re making their way through the parking lot back to the van, Kiara feels exhausted and giddy and JJ’s persistent reminders of the doctors request to keep her weight off the injury go in one ear and out the other. 

“JJ, was that your sweater?” 

“Yup-- Kie, you’re walking on it again-- ”

“I ruined your sweater?” She tries to remember what happened to it, and for the life of her, she comes up with nothing. JJ sounds distracted, giving her an amused look as they both walk around a random pick-up truck in the staff parking.

“Uh, you can keep it. I’m sure your washing machine’ll be a better match for it.” 

She scrunches her nose at the thought of putting something so soaked in blood in any laundry machine. The random string of thoughts keep coming and Kiara can’t seem to care about spewing them out for the world to hear. “I’m sorry, JJ. You loved that sweater, didn’t you?”

JJ sounds caught off guard, letting out an incredulous laugh before shaking his head. “No, it doesn’t matter, don’t worry about it.”

By the time they’re on the road again, Kiara’s found her spot in a seat this time, although still laying in JJ’s lap where she can feel him playing with a piece of her hair, something she knew he liked doing when he got the chance, when she wasn’t too concerned with getting it tangled.

She closes her eyes, slowly becoming more and more aware of how drained she was, thinking back to their morning.

“JJ, am I still in last place? Or can I be first?” 

She hears him give an exaggerated sigh, a note of affection in his voice as he flips a small braid in her face.

“Sure, Kie. You’re in first place now.”

Chapter Text

"Sunsets are proof that endings can often be beautiful too."

Beau Taplin

+1.

If the summer before senior year proved anything, it was two facts.

One, John B was much, much more observant than he let on to the point that Kiara found it a little frustrating that, being his best friend, she had looked past it so many times before. 

And two, hiding a relationship from your best friends when you spend nearly everyday with them sits right next to impossible. 

Especially when considering said relationship is with one of said best friends. 

“It would ruin us,” Kiara reasons one night, mindlessly playing with JJ’s hair as he laid beside her on her bed. The house was utterly silent besides the occasional car passing by outside, along with the sound of crickets and the two of them mumbling all the way up till three in the morning. 

The sky was black with hardly any decent visibility for stars, a bleak end to a day imprinted with overcast. Her bedroom was dim, with nothing but the soft glow of a lamp by her head, giving an intimate close to her day. 

JJ’s voice had long since grown thick with exhaustion but there was still a playful glint in his expression as he observed her carefully, closing his eyes as she ran her hand through his hair, making it look as though he was fighting sleep, which was slowly becoming a losing battle. 

“The not telling is ruining us,” he mumbles after a few seconds of peaceful silence. 

She turns her head from where she was staring at the ceiling and voicing through her worries, giving him a disapproving look. Even if he was joking which, judging from the familiar tone in his voice he was, she didn’t even like entertaining the idea of jokes and their relationship just yet. 

The night Kiara decided that the comfort she felt with JJ was something she wished resided more permanently in her life was one that was followed with a trail of challenges for both of them. Some were petty and expected, others were a little harder to get the better of. But it’s not beyond her that most of the problems were bred from their mutual decision to keep quiet about the whole getting together aspect of it. They were kissing instead of just hugging, sleeping together instead of just occasionally napping. Sneaking off after bonfires and sneaking out during parties -- which initially threw Kiara for a hell of a loop, seeing JJ Maybank exit a party that held plenty of alcohol and girls. 

All of it was under the radar at first, which was perfect, really. 

There was the thrill of seeing how far they could go while maintaining their secret, a thrill only the two of them would thrive on out of pure teenage-typical invincibility, feeling too high off of eachothers new presences to feel bogged down by the reality of a relationship. It was blissful and ignorant, to think it would last. It wasn’t short-lived, per se, but the excitement gradually turned into stress. 

Kiara’s parents had made a plethora of remarks over the course of JJ being in her life as just a friend, so telling them about the nature of her current relationship with him was a conversation she mentally dreaded on the daily. And John B and Pope were too close to them to be unaffected by the notion that they had become far more intimate than they let on, she had to constantly remind herself whenever she got close to figuring fuck it and just telling them.  

For every ‘Finally’, ‘Took ya long enough’, and ‘About time’ that was thrown their way while walking together outside of the Kildare Academy or the high school, there were twice the amount of snide comments revolving around Kiara’s true intentions with JJ, rumors that genuinely tested her patience and self worth and for the life of her, she couldn’t ignore the fact that JJ’s reputation didn’t exactly help. 

The only person they were sure knew was Luke, of all people. After finding them in JJ’s room one night he was supposed to be out of town, he had disapproved in the form of kicking Kiara out, followed by a stubbornly quiet JJ the next few days after. The reasoning behind Luke kicking her out was unclear when she thought about it, but really, despite JJ’s nature with girls, she had to assume he had never taken any of them home with him and because she was different, it made things complicated. 

So JJ wasn’t inherently wrong -- the not telling was causing unwarranted tension, even when they were alone. 

She didn’t realize she had lost herself in thought, staring at the side of his face until he turned his head, blinking tiredly at her. 

“Whatcha thinking?”

“It’s not funny, JJ,” she blurts out from a loss of words. “It’s not ruining us,” she half lies, exaggerating the ‘ruining’, wondering why they decided to be so dramatic sometimes. He starts a comeback but she interrupts before he can finish. 

“Plus, I don’t mean us us, I mean us as in all of us. Pope and JB.”

He looks at her a second longer before sighing and rolling back onto his back, clearly tired of talking on the specific subject. Kiara swallows hard, not really blaming him in the slightest. She was starting to feel like she was dating three people instead of one. 

“I don’t like it either but we’ve all been friends for so long, adding this will change things. It’ll make things weird and what if it-- ” she stops herself before revealing the slip up. If she could even call it that. 

Kiara learned early on that JJ had the tendency to dissemble, constantly maintaining a front that gives him some semblance of privacy and self-effacement. The reckless attitude and apparent careless actions mostly encourages people to look the other way as supposed to prying into something they might regret looking into or criticize -- because everyone seemed to give their unsolicited two cents when it came to a Maybank. 

For Kiara, though, it only drew her in. 

Being his best friend showed her only a fraction of what truly kept him up at night. Being something closer, both physically and emotionally, intellectually even, Kiara has to remind herself that he’s taught himself to live with the weight of self depreciation and the length of his insecurities because otherwise, she was stuck wondering how he didn’t just snap. 

He’d never admit it, but reassurances in every form of the word and plain trust were indispensable when navigating his relationship territory and every time, Kiara proved to be more than willing and happy to provide. 

Only this time, letting her own doubt show, whether it’s rightfully justified or not, can’t be good for him. 

“What if it doesn’t work out?” JJ quietly finishes her thought.

She stubbornly shakes her head. “JJ, I didn’ mean-- “

“JB and Pope already know. You know they do.” 

“What?” She plays dumb, momentarily unwilling to accept the truth, simultaneously aware of the change in topic. 

“If not John B then definitely Pope. He’s always giving me this look now, you know that look he gets when he wants to say something but won’t. Guy has a terrible poker face. And John B,” JJ brings his hand up, digging the heel of his palm into his eye, “I’d like to think that if he suspected anything he would just grow a pair and ask me but maybe you’re right and they’re gonna be weird about it.” He pauses thoughtfully, blinking up at the ceiling in fatigue, sounding dejected. 

Then, a slow smile crosses his face as he forces a false seriousness in his voice. 

“We’ve been careful but they’ve definitely caught on.” 

It all sounded a little ridiculous, enough so that Kiara can’t help but giggle at their predicament. 

Maybe they weren’t being as inconspicuous as they thought, she thinks suddenly. The arms around the shoulders and the playful shoves have always been a part of their behavior when put in a room together, so what was the big deal? So what if they fell asleep in the hammock -- limbs inevitably tangling in the process -- more frequently nowadays? Or were constantly sharing food? And time off on the weekends? And maybe a bed? 

Scratch that, they were always sharing a bed now. 

They only barely held back from kissing and even then, when they were sure no one was looking, not much was off limits. 

In fact, now that she’s really thinking about it, over the last couple of weeks specifically Kiara did sense a change in dynamic that made her second guess where their so-called secret stood with the Pogues. 

“You think?” she asks weakly, brushing the hair off his forehead as he nods. 

“Do you-- do you feel like they’re hovering whenever we’re all together now?” 

“Oh, one hundred percent. We have helicopter friends,” JJ says dismissively, turning over on his side again and finding her hand with his, “And it’s killing me.” 

She snorts, feeling a warmth rise to her cheeks at the way he tiredly draws out his voice, complaining like a little kid.

“Killing you, huh?” 

“Mhmm. I wanna be able to kiss you whenever I want.” 

“Then what are you doing all the way over there?” 

He gives her an ‘oh really?’ raise of his eyebrows before letting go of her hand to push himself up, leaning over her body in a gesture that’s mixed with exhaustion and need all at once. His hand stumbles a bit just as he meets her lips, causing the pillow under her head to knock over a few books from her bedside table, thudding hastily to the floor. 

“Oops.”

“Smooth,” she chuckles as she pulls away for half a second, letting her hands settle on his back, unable to hold back a tease. “I thought you were supposed to be a pro at this.”

He lets out a breathy laugh, dropping his head almost shyly into her shoulder. If she wasn’t so absorbed in the way it felt against her neck and in love with the way it sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach she wouldn’t have noticed the way his cheeks uncharacteristically flushed pink, leaving her head dizzy with adoration. 

It was a little endearing, making him sheepish in something he would otherwise be doing like second nature. 

Okay, a lot endearing. 

A cool breeze slithers in through the cracked window, settling nicely on her now warm skin. She relishes in it, closing her eyes when she feels a soft kiss against her neck. 

“You’re my favorite person, Kie,” JJ says quietly, “I don’t really care who knows, it doesn’t matter to me.” 

Kiara nods without thinking, smiling, feeling lighter and fuller at the same time, filled to the brim with a hesitant sense of contentment. She wasn’t prepared for this moment one bit, couldn’t have predicted the words ever being addressed to her even if a script of her life was handed to her, but she welcomes it wholeheartedly after just a taste, basking in the feel of it. 

What an effect he had on her, to be able to send her reeling with just a few words. 

It seemed silly, now, to get so caught up in who knows and who doesn’t when he had the aptitude to make her feel so important. 

“C’mere,” she pulls him closer, wanting to relieve his vexatious worries and soothe all of his undeserving doubts, hoping to give him at least a fraction of what he makes her feel without even trying. 
--
“You know, I’m startin’ to think I could just take a week or two off and have you run things around here,” Mike says after the last customer mosies out of the restaurants door, glancing over at Kiara from where he was counting cash at the register. He mumbles amounts under his breath as she gives him a serious look. 

“Please don’t,” she pleads half-sincerely, turning a chair over in her arms to slide it on a table. She hears him give a low laugh. 

“What? You don’t think you can do it? K, you’ve been putin’ in almost as many hours as me, sometimes more,” he slides the drawer in, causing a loud ding from the register, “You’re more than capable, I know you are.” 

Kiara can’t help but feel pride at her dad’s words. She was always seeking out to live up to his approval, whether she was conscious of it or not. 

“Thanks, Dad, but really,” she chuckles at the thought of running the restaurant all day by herself, not having her dad to deal with the ‘difficult’ customers. “I can only handle so much stuck up rich folk a day.” She tries not to swear in front of her dad, choosing her words wisely. 

Stuck up rich assholes, more like.

“Nah, you’re mature when you wanna be,” Mike dismisses confidently, gathering all the cash and heading to the back room. He keeps talking as he disappears. 

“You’re balancing school with a job, doing volunteer work when you can, you’re even managing a relationship with your boyfriend-- “

Kiara just barely grabs the chair before it clatters to the floor, securing its position on the table before glancing towards the back room with a disbelieving stare. 

“Huh?” she calls out bluntly, seemingly incapable of being nonchalant to save her life. All she gets in response is a loud laugh, which only makes her more confused, more as though she’s been caught in the act. 

The act that her and said boyfriend were not hiding as well as they thought, evidently. 

Her dad comes out with a wide smile on his face, one that puts a stunned and amused expression on her own face as she studies him, until it drops. 

“You and JJ.” 

Kiara forces a sound of denial, shaking her head, unable to meet his eyes. “Dad, him and I, we-- we’re not-- “ she rubs her forehead, wondering for half a second if there was a sign written in big bold letters. 

Might as well be.

“It’s okay, I know.” 

She swallows and waits, knowing that if her dad had a hunch about something he was rarely ever wrong, so there was a slim chance he genuinely didn’t know this time around. Getting a lecture in the middle of the restaurant was not something she had in mind today but life was funny like that. 

Mike walks around the counter and pulls out a barstool, taking a seat to face her, letting out a prolonged sigh. 

“Kiara, you’re close to those boys but not that close. Your ma and I have eyes, you know.” 

Kiara subtly rolls her eyes, readying herself with explanations, finding a surprising lack of regret at him knowing. She was prepared to defend JJ in a heartbeat, not lost on the fact that she’s been defending him for years now.

“Yeah, well,” she admits, annoyed and defeated, “So does everyone else. That’s kinda why we haven’t… Told anyone yet.” 

Mike contemplates this, looking surprised for maybe only two and a half seconds that he wasn’t the only one Kiara was keeping in the dark. Then something clicks and he clears his throat.

“If you’re waiting on everyone else to like it, Kiara, you’re gonna be waiting forever. Everybody has their judgments, hell, that’s probably why you didn’t tell your mom and I, you already know how we feel about that boy.”

Kiara crosses her arms and leans against the counter, waiting for him to continue. He seems to be carefully selecting his words. 

“Is he a parents favorite choice for their daughter?” he finally asks rhetorically, causing her to chuckle unexpectedly. She bites her lip, amused at his obvious hesitance in approaching the conversation. 

“No,” he shakes his head helplessly, amused himself, “Boys outta control. He’s loud and messy and keeps you out too late sometimes and just gets under my skin and probably knows it, too, the bastard…” Kiara desperately urges herself to not laugh at the truth of it all, finding a hint of fondness in his voice.

“But I can see he cares for you.” He nods at her leery gaze, elaborating. “You both have a lot of growing to do and it’s not like it’s going to be perfect or even ideal at times, but you’ve done a lot of growing together, which makes me trust him.” 

Hearing her dad admit such a thing leaves Kiara speechless, searching for the right response even though she’s not convinced there really isn’t one. 

Was he feeling okay? Was she hearing him right?

“You’re almost an adult, really, and I know this sorta thing happens sometimes. Me and your mom weren’t exactly supported either. I’m not gonna like it at times but I know you’re careful, Kiara. Just know that whatever you do decide,” he gets up from the stool and starts heading for the kitchen, “It’s in the best interest of the both of you, otherwise, it won’t work out. Believe me.” 

Kiara watches him walk to the back, letting the words sink in before following him to grab her bag in the back room. She debates thanking him for taking it easy on her, for understanding the situation and letting him know how much his opinion meant to her but settles on a side hug on her way out. 

“Sorry I lied to you.” 

He squeezes her and kisses her head, grunting in disagreement. 

“I wouldn’t call it quite that, K, you barely pulled it off.” 

She snorts at the brutal honesty. “How long have you known?” 

“Long enough.” 

She deserves that. 

Right before she reaches the door she hears him ask curiously, in a voice that tells her he might rather not know the truth even though he’s asking. 

“JJ isn’t into drugs, is he?”

She purses her lips and schools her expression as best she can to resemble every aspect of neutral. 

“Mmm no.” 

She turns and steps out of the door before she can read his expression, although she guesses it isn’t exactly convinced in the slightest. Kiara’s eyes are trained to the ground when she hears a familiar voice call out. 

“Hey, gorgeous! A little birdie told me you were getting out early.” 

A grin crosses her face before she even sees him sitting on the tailgate of the truck he and John B saved up for over the last year. Its faded baby blue paint and scattered rust spots is becoming a welcoming sight to her and her smile only grows when she sees JJ beaming back at her, squinting under his slightly tattered cap. 

She makes her way over to him, placing her arms on either side of his body as soon as he hops down from sitting so high up, almost cornering him against the truck. He doesn’t seem to mind at all. 

“Was that little birdie the same one who texted you this morning, telling you the exact time I planned on getting out?” 

He huffs a guilty laugh, bowing his head down to hers and setting his hands on her hips. “Sounds familiar, yeah.” 

“Yeah?” she scrunches her nose teasingly, trying to make a point, “The same one you didn’t care to text back?”

He licks his lips trying to hide a smirk and glances away from her for a second, looking off in the distance. “I didn’t charge my phone last night.” 

“Mmm,” she hums understandingly, eyes finding his again. 

“Mhmm. By the time it turned on it would’ve been weird to answer so late. You know how it is.” 

“I do,” she admits, giving him a break because she knew this was all new for the both of them and what often felt like unrequited effort in the relationship was really just JJ navigating fresh waters. He’s never been the type to stick by his phone or to give a punctual reply. Instead it was always him leaving his phone in a pair of shorts sitting on his bedroom floor or forgetting it on the boat, sometimes giving a response a day or two later. When he woke up, unlike most people his age, checking his phone was usually the last thing on his mind and Kiara honestly found it humorous a lot of the time.

She wasn’t going to fault him for it because she saw him trying and what more could she ask for? ‘I didn’t charge my phone last night” translated to him not losing it, which was progress realistically. Maybe he meant to so he could send her one of the good morning texts she looks forward to more than she probably should, but didn’t quite follow through. 

And that was okay.

Changing him was something she didn’t see necessary, let alone something she would ever be interested in. She was by no means perfect either, she knew. She forgot to ask what he was thinking or feeling, usually expecting him to always be the first to vocalize it when really, if something was truly bothering JJ, he did just the opposite. 

They were finding a balance together through trial and a lot of error, but it wasn’t unexpected, she’s realized. They’ll fall into a rhythm eventually, she thinks truthfully, snatching his cap from his head and finally kissing him. 

He kisses back with a small sound of amusement, hands traveling from her hips to her back before pulling back for just a second. 

“Let’s get outta here.” 

“Okay,” she answers instantly.

“No,” he mumbles, kissing for a few more heartbeats before pulling back again. “I mean like outta here, outta here. Like away-- “

“Yeah,” she breathes happily, nodding ardently. 

He peers at her for a moment, expression oddly unsure before her insistence gets the best of him. 

“Okay,” he swallows and fully steps away, smiling and walking over to the driver's side, peering over to her through the windows as she pulls his cap over her braided hair, a look of pure glee on her face. 
--
Kiara had no idea where JJ was driving within the first twenty minutes after they left The Wreck but something about it all was perfect enough to where she just didn’t care. 

The windows were down, warm air blowing around the cab as the radio had both of them singing at the top of their lungs for a few good minutes. JJ had one hand on the wheel as he acted out a guitar solo with the other, causing tears to leak from her eyes from how hard she was laughing. Her cheeks ached by the time she set her feet up on the dash, grey Vans becoming warm in the dying sunlight. 

She readjusted his hat so it blocked the glaring sun from her view, as well as wiped down the lens of her sunglasses before sliding them on her face and bobbing her head to the music. Out of the corner of her eye she saw JJ take a double take before making a comment on the supposed rule of ‘designated driver should have at least one line of defence against the sun’ just before making grabby hands at his hat. Instead, she hands him her sunglasses, which he puts on upside down just to spite her, and continues driving with the music guiding half his actions. 

After a while, Kiara uses a roundabout way of asking where they were going, to which he responded with an innocent shrug, turning the radio down a few notches. 

“Oh, you were supposed to tell me when to stop.”

She raises her eyebrows at him, growing increasingly unsure at what he was playing at. JJ was sneaky but lucky for him, Kiara thrived on the fun it brought with it. 

“You didn’t know that?” he asks when she doesn’t answer right away.

“Didn’t occur to me, oddly enough.” 

“Ah. Well, now you do,” he gestures out of the windshield, “Roads yours. Where to, Kie?”

They weren’t on the highway, which Kiara is partly glad about, only because God knows how long they would’ve gone before she was made aware of her responsibility in deciding when and where to stop. They were on a relatively secluded road, somewhere she didn’t quite recognize, which meant all of the beaches would probably be new to her. She could see water and the thought was exciting, as she’s always looking for new beaches, becoming bored of the ones she knows so well. 

A few minutes pass before she sees a wooden sign with an unfamiliar name on it, designating the entrance to the beach. 

“Here,” she points up ahead, right before she sign, indicating where to turn. JJ removes the sunglasses from his face to make out the sign before turning. 

As soon as they're parked, Kiara starts removing her shoes and socks, hoping to dip her feet in the water before the sun sets. JJ is already out of the truck running towards the sand. 

She hurries and meets him at an old waist high fence, holding a sign reading ‘Do Not Enter’ nailed to it. 

She slows just as he jumps over it effortlessly. 

“What, did you purposely go looking for the no entry sign?” 

“I found it.” 

“I can see that,” she giggles at his passive tone, starting to climb over it herself. “And you just thought, hey, this must be the way.” 

“Well, yeah, what were you doing?” He reaches out when she nearly slips, grabbing her and helping her over, twirling for good measure, making both of them weak with chuckling. 

“I was following you, dumbass!” she half yells, unable to gain composure as her feet hit the sand. 

“Why would you do that?” he matches her tone, almost as if he knows how hard she’s falling for him everyday. 

Isn’t that a question. 

The giddiness doesn’t really wear off until after the sun meets the horizon, long after both of them are left breathless from laughing, stomachs sore in the best way. She throws herself at him after the third time he kicks the now semi cold water at her, feeling wet spots on his shirt from where she may or may not’ve made him a victim of splashes as well. 

They’re throwing affectionate teases at each other as she clutches at his shoulders, mimicking his backward steps with her forward ones as she tips her head back, just barely losing his cap in the process. He leans forward to kiss her right before they both trip over a washed up log, kicking sand in unpleasant places. 

“Smooth,” he mocks her earlier jab before continuing his move, only this time placing a feather light kiss on her nose. 

She returns the favor, momentarily thinking they were dead if someone caught them just now. She might’ve said something about trespassing if she wasn’t so drunk on the moment, so caught up in the way JJ’s sunburn tinted his cheeks just right, or the way his wind tousled hair brushed his forehead, making him look so young and carefree. 

JJ gave sporadic trips and unpredictability a very nice ring to them. 

She tears her eyes away for a second, grabbing his cap from the sand and shaking it before plopping it on his head crookedly. 

“Hi,” he says cheerfully, with a look that gives away the fact he must be drunk on it as well.

She smiles. “Hi.” 

“How was your day?”

“Can’t complain,” she settles herself in a more comfortable position beside him, rubbing sand between her fingers as she peers out at the sky. 

“Yeah? Does a half day at work mean half the assholes?” 

“If I’m lucky.” 

“Were you lucky today?” he asks calmly, rolling his head back to look up at the sky where a few stars can be seen hidden in the blanket of navy. 

She leans back, laying down in the sand as she peers up at him. “I am now.” 

She makes out a smirk from where she was before she closes her eyes, setting her hands on her stomach and listening to the serene waves. She feels JJ lie beside her after a beat. 

“We should go to your parents' vacation home.” 

Kiara barely flinches at the suggestion despite its spontaneity. 

“It’s gotta be what-- three hours from here? It’d be dark before we even get there,” she gently entertains the idea while also dismissing it. 

“So?”

“So,” she drawls out hesitantly, “You and I both have work tomorrow, JJ. Plus, I don’t even know if they still own it, I haven’t been there in years.” 

There’s a beat of silence again before she feels JJ sit up, clearing his throat. 

“We could do it, Kie.” 

“What’s that?”

“Run away.” 

This time she opens her eyes, meeting the back of his head as he peers out at the water, arms holding him up in a slight slouch. She was with him, is with him, thighs touching and body warmth bouncing off each other but just then, as she regards him, he looks so alone. 

“What d’you mean?” she asks, tone light in an attempt to lift the sudden downturn in mood. He just shrugs, still not meeting her gaze, as if he knows she’s not on board to whatever he’s proposing. 

“I mean leave. Leave the OBX, find somewhere new.” 

She swallows thickly at the realization that new simply meant better in JJ’s eyes. Most memories she has of JJ have been good ones, most with the Pogues were irreplaceable, all residing in the Outer Banks. She sees it as home, somewhere she’s lived precious years of her life but for JJ, she knew that just wasn’t exactly the case. 

“JJ,” she slowly sits up, trying to work through her next thoughts strategically. “You know how I feel about it, I do plan on leaving, going somewhere with more opportunity. Bigger and better opportunity. It’s just now…” she falters when he pulls his hat off, bending it at weird angles in his hands. 

“I know.” He forces a strained chuckle, shaking his head. “I know, it’s just I’m-- I’m ready, ya know? It’s... hell here, sometimes, and I just wanna forget it and not turn back. I wanna not feel so fucking stuck all the time. I don’t want to always feel like there’s nothing for me, ‘cause right now, Kie, besides you and John B and Pope-- “

“I know, JJ,” she offers gently, squeezing his knee. Hell was likely not far from the truth and none of what he was telling her was overstated. She hated how he had to live in a way that nearly physically disgusted him, one that he can barely talk about without feeling like a burden by doing so. She knew all these things but that mere fact never made it any easier in times where she was forced to confront them, miserably unable to actually do anything about them, it seemed. 

“I know but you and I are going to leave, one day. I want to, with you. After we’re done with school, when we’re both ready and the times right, you and I are going to travel. We’re never gonna have to-- “ she lets out a weak chuckle, “-- gonna have to deal with any stupid fuckin’ kooks, wherever we go.” 

JJ cracks, exhaling a small laugh. “I feel like there are kooks everywhere, no matter where we go.”

“I think you’re right,” she admits lightly. She places a hand on his shoulder, rubbing her thumb in circles before setting her head right next to it. “You know what?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Hell froze over today.” 

She hears a quick exhale beside her head, a quiet snicker before he gives her the satisfaction. 

“Why’s that?” 

“My dad admitted to not hating you.”

“In so many words?” 

“Not quite,” She pulls away, starting to play with his bracelets. “There was some other stuff about how he trusts you and that you dating me is not going to lead to the end of life as we know it. Those were the good parts.” 

She can tell he’s genuinely shocked by the news but he masks it with just a simple little “Hm.” She peers out at the water again, soaking in the view before they decide to head back to the truck. 

By the time they’re walking back, hands intertwined and swinging with each step, her suspicions are confirmed when he elaborates. 

“You know, I think your dad's always liked me.” 

She almost chokes at the speed a laugh escapes her throat. “Yeah, no. He really didn’t.” 

JJ indulges in the conversation as he digs in his pocket for his keys. “I think he did. Like, it definitely took him a while to realize I was better than John B, but he got there eventually.” 

She bites her tongue, shaking her head honestly. “Dude, you’re lying to yourself.”

“I knew he’d warm up to me, he just needed time.” 

She situates herself in the passenger seat, propping her head against her hand as she just watches him, trying not to completely fall head over heels. 
--
The next morning held a chill in the air, one filled with the smell of burnt toast and Poptarts, which was a dead giveaway to her sleep-ridden brain that she was, in fact, in the Chateau. 

She throws on a sweater from the floor, one she doesn’t give much thought to aside from the fact it may or may not be JJ's because it may or may not smell exactly like him. It’s early and blindingly so, sunlight bleeding through the blinds in the guest room, spilling all over the not-so-neatly-made bed. 

JJ never made his bed. Kiara never cared to either. 

When she steps into the hallway, the smell only intensifies, causing her to fan a hand out in front of her as she enters the kitchen. John B is somewhat carefully spreading some jam on a piece of overly crispy bread before dropping it on a plate and sliding it in front of JJ, who barely gives it any attention besides a dead sort of glance, one that tells her he did just wake up no less than five minutes ago. 

“Morning,” Pope says, smiling over his cup of steaming whatever it was he drank this early before his eyes land on her sweater. He wastes no time in pointing at it, as if it’s the evidence he’s been looking for all along.

“Is that JJ's…” 

She nods just as John B drops the tub of butter on the counter, subtlety clearly not a concern, and points his knife at JJ, who suddenly looks perfectly awake. 

“Yes! It is! Because you two are dating! Aha!” John B lets out a satisfied holler, directing his knife in Popes direction. “I told you, Pope! I called it!” 

“No, you did not! I told you!” 

“Bro, lower your weapon,” JJ reaches out, placing a hand on John B’s wrist to aim the knife back at the tub of butter. “Took you guys long enough, Jesus.”  

“No, we were onto you all along, the entire time-- “ John B insists. 

“I doubt it,” JJ deadpans, giving Kiara a wink. Pope sets down his mug and gestures to the two of them, raising his eyebrows. 

“JB’s right, look, you two are not subtle at all. Literally every time you walk in a room it’s like, boom, in your face-- “

“Dead giveaway, dude,” John B adds, stepping aside when Kiara reaches an arm around him for the box of Poptarts, ignoring the ‘e’ written in Sharpie, making it ‘Popetarts’ instead. She’s happy to find there’s one left that John B didn’t successfully burn, picking it from the box and moving to sit beside JJ as their two friends seemingly reevaluate themselves. 

“What happened to no Pogue-on-Pogue macking?” John B asks, picking up Popes mug and peering into it before he snatches it away. 

JJ gives a loud ‘pfft!’ while Kiara grimaces, ripping the shiny wrapper just as JJ leans over and breaks a piece off of the pastry, giving her a knowing smirk. 

“No one follows that rule, JB.”