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When they land on Poguelandia and decide to make the best of it, everything is pure chaos. JJ’s busy gathering coconuts, finding branches, figuring out how to make a fire to keep them all from freezing to death. Telling off Pope when he tries to inspect the wound on his head. Avoiding John B when he asks about what happened on the freighter.
And so he doesn’t realize it at first.
Because they’re all hurting, in their own ways. JJ’s is more literal than everyone else’s, sure, but they’re all struggling. And normally, he’d expect Kie to be in there, checking on each of them, making sure they’re okay, but instead she's spent most of the day curled in a ball on the beach, staring into the ocean.
The difference in her behaviour maybe isn't even noticeable to anyone else, but JJ has always been strangely attuned to her moods. Kie’s an incredibly empathetic person, to the point where she sobbed when they found a bird that had flown into a window at school and died, then insisted they give it a proper burial and funeral.
And now she just seems… lost.
“Yo, is Kie okay?” John B comes to stand beside JJ near the treeline, surveying the coast.
JJ blinks, then shrugs. “I dunno.”
“She’s been down there a while,” John B says, and when JJ glances over, there’s a look of concern on his friend’s face as he looks towards Kie. Maybe he isn’t the only one who’s noticed after all. “Someone should go check on her.”
“Yeah.” JJ nods, because he’s been thinking the same thing.
When John B doesn’t move to go anywhere, JJ looks over at him and realizes that John B means him . Well, shit. What does he know about comforting someone?
But he wants to go over and try and help her, be a listening ear or whatever the fuck it’s called. Wants to sit beside her in the sand, whether he’s welcome or not, just so she knows she’s not alone. Anything that will help put an end to the obvious cloud of misery that surrounds her.
John B just looks at him expectantly, and JJ makes a big deal of rolling his eyes and sighing, even though he’s really not upset one bit about going to check on her. Lately, he feels like he’s been drawn to her side more and more, the universe tossing them together like it’s meant to be or something. Even though the idea is insane.
Kiara Carrera and him. Yeah, right.
But he trudges through the sand towards her, and his stomach flips uncomfortably the closer he gets because he can see the furrow in her brow, the one she always gets when she’s truly upset. He hates that furrow, the pit it creates in his stomach. Kie’s not meant to frown like that, for her shoulders to be weighed down with worry.
He’s not sure what the hell he’ll be able to do about it, but he’s gonna give it a try.
“Hey,” he says when he’s close enough that she can hear him.
She blinks, flicks her eyes in his direction before refocusing on the waves in front of her.
When she doesn’t otherwise respond, he presses on. “Mind if I join you?”
Shrugging, she looks over at him fully as he plunks himself down next to her, linking his arms across his knees and mirroring her pose. He’s known Kie a long time. Long enough to know that she doesn’t like to be pressured or pushed into anything she doesn't want to do. And that includes talking about her feelings.
She’s an open book when she wants to be, but sometimes she draws into herself, taking time to work through things on her own. He’s witnessed firsthand when someone forces her to bring those emotions to the surface before she’s ready, and he refuses to be that person.
So instead, he ignores her curious glances and stares out at the ocean, offering his presence as some kind of comfort. If it can even be that. He’s not good at comfort, never has been, but he’s willing to give it a try.
They sit side by side for a handful of minutes before Kie speaks up.
“I’m mad at you, you know.” She doesn’t sound mad, but kinda sad instead, and JJ’s stomach churns uncomfortably.
He looks over at her and finds her staring at him. “What did I do?”
Her eyes flick to the barely healing gash on his forehead, and it throbs as though it can feel her pointed gaze.
“Oh. That.”
“Yes. That,” she bites out, as though now that she’s opened her mouth, she can’t hold in whatever she’s been stewing about. “You jumped in front of a machete.”
“He was swinging at you, Kie,” he says matter of factly.
Her eyes widen. “So?”
“So I wasn’t about to let you get hurt.” It’s not rocket science. He hadn’t even had time to think about it, his body just reacting instinctively upon seeing the quick glint of metal. Protecting Kie is just ingrained in his veins, a part of his muscle memory.
Her throat bobs as she swallows thickly. “But you got hurt! You just fell off the side of the boat and–”
When her eyes grow shiny, he feels a tugging sensation in his gut, telling him that maybe she’s not actually mad at him. He shuffles closer, their elbows brushing, and she blinks a few times.
“And what? It was worth it, Kie.” She shakes her head at him, lips pursed into a pout. “I’d do it again.”
“JJ,” she says, disapproving.
“What? I would, Kie.”
“Why?” The word bursts out of her, and she immediately presses her lips together like she can take it back.
Because she knows why. Deep down, she has to know how he feels about her. It’s not like it hasn't been clear since the start, the way he always teased her, messing around so she would pay a modicum of attention to a fuckup like him. The flirting, the bantering – there’s no way she doesn’t know.
“Kie, there’s no fucking world where I would stand by and let you get hurt. Not if I could do something about it.” His words are soft, more baring than he means them to be. But it feels okay sharing them with her here, marooned on an island far away from everything they know. “It doesn’t matter what happens to me as long as you’re okay.”
A harsh sound bursts out of her chest. “Are you kidding me? Of course it matters. It’s always mattered when you do stupid shit.”
He shrugs, squeezing his fingers together til his knuckles turn white. She says that, but she doesn’t really mean it. He knows his place in the world, in her life, and he’s accepted it. He’s not meant for more.
“Yeah, well. I’m just sayin’,” he says, looking back out to the ocean. “If it came down to it, I’d do it again.”
She doesn’t immediately respond, but he feels her wriggle closer until their shoulders are touching. Warmth from her bleeds into him, like liquid sunshine winding through his veins.
“I’m still mad at you,” she says after a moment, her head tipping to rest on his shoulder.
“Yeah, that’s okay,” he agrees. “I probably deserve it.”
He doesn’t know what changes, but after that, she’s more like the old Kiara. The one he’s loved since he was a kid. Fussing over the cut on his head, sitting quietly with Sarah when she notices her friend’s silence. Making an effort to talk to Cleo, and insisting they start a nightly ritual of campfire games.
He’s not dumb enough to think it has anything to do with him, but he’s grateful, because the island isn’t all sunshine and roses, and he really needs her with him.
It’s not until a few days later that he even learns about what really happened during their escape from the freighter. Sure, he knows that he fell into the water, that John B and Sarah rescued them all with the lifeboat, and they ended up on the island. But the details are foggy, the whole event blurry in his mind.
Pope brings it up while they’re collecting firewood late one afternoon. He’s not even sure how they get on the topic, but somehow they’re suddenly talking about Kie, and Pope says it like it’s fact. Like JJ should have known this all along.
“Well she almost drowned, so it makes sense.” Pope crouches down to wrestle a branch from a bush and JJ’s muscles freeze, his casual words sending shockwaves of panic through his body.
“Hold up. What?”
Pope glances up at him, confused. “Kiara. When we came ‘round on the boat, she was almost going under.”
JJ’s never felt such a sudden feeling of acute dread, his stomach churning. He thinks he might throw up. He doesn’t remember being in the water, just the mind numbing panic when he saw the machete swinging towards Kie, his muscles leaping into action and demanding he keep her safe.
And then nothing. Not until he’d blinked his eyes open in the lifeboat to find her concerned eyes fixed on him, her cheeks wet.
“What are you saying Pope?” JJ asks slowly. “And be real clear, like, as if I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Pope pushes himself to his feet. “You really don’t know?”
“Know what?”
Pope sighs, and JJ wants to shake him. He needs to know what the fuck he’s talking about, his body vibrating as his mind spirals with possibilities, each one more terrifying than the last.
“Look, I don’t know all the details, man, but Kiara jumped in after you. Kept you afloat. And when we finally got there, you were both nearly under water.”
JJ’s stomach revolts at the image Pope’s words put into his mind. Kie frantically trying to keep him alive. Him. As though she thought he was worth drowning herself over.
“I gotta– I’ll be back,” JJ says, his mind racing. He turns and books it through the brush, back to their camp on the beach.
Kie looks up confused when he storms over to her, his chest heaving.
“What’s wrong?” she asks warily, rising to her feet, the mat she’d been weaving abandoned on the ground. Her eyes flick around, searching for potential threats. “Did something happen? Is it Pope?”
She looks for Pope, clearly concerned, and JJ grits his teeth, fists clenched at her genuine concern. It doesn’t really bother him, the fact that Kie chose to be with Pope. It makes sense. They’re both going places, destined for greater things than Kildare has to offer. Of course they should be together.
But this isn’t about that, he reminds himself, refocusing on Kiara, who’s still standing in front of him, waiting for an explanation.
He searches for something to say, but his mind is frustratingly blank, just like his memory of what happened on the freighter. If he tries really hard, he can kind of remember patchy things – a familiar voice telling him to stay with me, the suffocating feeling of water covering his nose and mouth.
It makes his hands shake if he thinks about it too hard, and he pushes it down to glare at Kie instead. Anger is safer. Easier too. If he’s angry, he can’t be terrified.
When he still doesn’t speak up, she goes to move past him in search of someone who will give her answers about why he’s acting so weird. Pope probably. But he reaches out and gently snags her wrist, pulling her to a stop before she can get too far.
His brain might be empty, but he can’t just let her walk away. Not when there’s so many unanswered questions he desperately needs answers to.
She fixes him with a look, confusion swimming in her mocha eyes, and he swallows. “JJ, what is going on?”
“Did you jump in after me?” he blurts out, and then immediately regrets it.
She tilts her head. “Off the freighter? Of course I did, JJ.”
Right. Of course.
But Pope’s words come back with full force, and he shakes his head. His fingers tighten around her wrist before falling away, because he shouldn’t be touching her when he has so many emotions battling for dominance inside of himself.
“You almost drowned,” he says darkly, and her expression immediately shutters, closing herself off from him. He wants to reach out again, but can’t make himself move. “Kie, what– why would you do that?”
The look she shoots him makes him feel dumb, like he should already know the answer, but he doesn't. It’s the same feeling he gets in school sometimes, when everyone else seems to latch on to an idea quicker than he does, their pencils scratching across paper, while he’s still struggling to understand the question.
Kie seems to clock his frustration at the same time, because her expression softens and she moves a half step closer. Her teeth snag her bottom lip as she steadily holds his gaze. There’s something there, in the depths of her eyes, that makes his chest light up. Something that he can’t quite bear to look at for too long.
“JJ, there’s no world where I would stand by and let you get hurt. Not when I could do something about it,” she says, and it’s his own words repeated back to him, but they feel incredibly different coming from her lips. When it’s her life they’re talking about. When she could have drowned in the depths of the ocean just because she’d tried to save him.
He shakes his head, the panic racing through his veins screaming at him to move, to pace, to run away from the weight of her words, but he can’t drag himself away from her. “That’s fucking stupid, Kie. You shouldn’t have done that.”
“What, I should have just let you drown, then?” She glares at him, arms coming across her chest, a familiar challenge in the way she lifts her chin. “Are you insane?”
He shrugs. “Better than you drowning.”
“I didn’t drown though.”
“But you almost did.”
“But I didn’t,” she repeats. “I couldn’t–” She pauses, her gaze dropping to the sand beneath their toes before refocusing back on him. “I couldn’t just let you go, JJ.”
“What?”
“I know how this sounds, okay?” She swallows thickly. “But we were going under. You were fucking heavy and the waves were throwing us around and I was so tired. I kept telling you that John B was gonna come, begging you to stay with me, but there was no one in sight and I was getting more and more tired and just…”
She closes her eyes and a tear slides down her cheek. He feels like an asshole when she looks at him with wet eyes, so fucking sad that he wants to wrap her up in his arms and never let anything bad happen to her again.
He shakes his head, his stomach in knots, fists clenched tight to stop himself from reaching for her. There’s some fire in her voice as she continues, noticing more than he wishes she would sometimes. “JJ, I would do it again, okay? It’s just like you said.”
He’s said a lot of stupid things, but he knows exactly what she’s referring to.
It doesn’t matter what happens to me as long as you’re okay.
And while it seemed like a rational thing for him to tell her, when she says it, he immediately recoils, sure that he’s understanding wrong. But she doesn’t say anything further, just stares at him defiantly, arms crossed, like she’s daring him to deny it.
He shakes his head, the puzzle pieces starting to stitch themselves together in the blank space of his memory.
Her arms banded tightly around him, his head heavy against her shoulder. Her warm hand on his chest, right over his heart, somehow lending heat despite the freezing water. Her voice in his ear, high and panicky, pleading with him over and over, as though she could will it into being.
John B’s coming. John B’s coming!
Stay with me.
JJ, please. Please stay with me.
And the final one comes to him with alarming clarity, accompanied by the sinking feeling of water sloshing over his face.
I’m sorry.
His heart racing, he minutely shakes his head, meeting her gaze. He feels crazed, wild in a way he hasn’t in a long time. The idea of Kie, his Kie, sinking to the bottom of the ocean, her arms wrapped around him of all people, makes the breath stutter from his lungs.
“Why didn’t you let go?” He’s surely panicking now, his voice strained.
Her mouth falls open. “Let go?”
“Of me,” he clarifies, and she shakes her head. “I’m not worth it. Not worth your goddamn life, Kiara – are you kidding me?”
He backs away, putting some space between them, shoves his hands through his hair. The intensity of his emotions, the enormity of what she did for him threaten to swallow him whole. What was she thinking? Why would she do that?
“Like, what would have happened if they hadn’t come with the lifeboat when they did? You were just gonna what? Drown? Kie, c’mon.” He can’t stop the way his voice shakes and he clenches his jaw, fighting to keep hold of himself.
He’s pacing now, back and forth in the sand in front of her. Part of him wants to run, to get far away from all of this, and pretend that his best friend didn’t risk her life for him, wasn't willing to drown right along with him. The other part wants to crush her body against his and never let go.
It’s too much for him to handle, the thought of the world losing the bright light that is Kiara Carrera.
She’s meant for so much more. She’s the best person he knows, and he cannot stand the thought of her tossing her lot in with his.
But of course, she speaks up and puts him in his place, because that’s who she is. She doesn’t back down, and isn't afraid to go toe to toe with him.
“JJ, I couldn’t just let you go!” Her voice cracks, and the emotion pouring off of her makes him freeze in his tracks. She swipes angrily at her face before continuing more quietly. “I… I don’t know what I would do without you.”
He sighs, his anger relenting to a simmer instead of a boil. “You’d be just fine without me.”
“I wouldn’t,” she says, reaching out to tangle her fingers with his. That makes him fully freeze, because they’re not really hand holding friends. But she just steadily holds his gaze, her fingers squeezing his.
And he lets himself think for the first time that maybe she’s telling the truth.
He has no clue what to say after that, with her looking at him with so much certainty. It makes the things he’s always thought were so far out of reach suddenly seem a tiny bit closer.
But she’d do it for any of the Pogues, he reminds himself. He’s not special.
“JJ, there was no way in hell I was gonna let you go,” she repeats. It feels like she’s saying more, something different than the words spilling from her lips, but he’s still stuck imagining her sinking under the waves, and he can’t even attempt to figure out what it is. “You can be mad at me all you want, but I’m not gonna take it back or apologize.”
Still holding his hand, she tips her chin up defiantly, as though daring him to argue with her. And he wants to. Wants to keep fighting, trying to convince her that she shouldn’t have done that for him. That she’s crazy for tossing her lot in with his, weighing herself down with his demons because he’s not worth it.
But something inside of him quiets that insistent voice, the tiny part of him that wants desperately to be tied to her. The part of himself that he’s ignored for years, sure that there was no chance in hell for him with Kie. He’d accepted that because it made sense. He and Kie were from different worlds, and slumming it in the Cut with the Pogues was one thing, but actually tethering herself to him ?
It was unthinkable.
Now it all feels different though, like something is shifting between them the longer they stare at each other, her fingers wound with his, the weight of what happened in the middle of the ocean between them.
He’s felt like he and Kie are cut from the same cloth before – the way they both leap in to defend a friend, their fiercely protective reluctance to let outsiders into the group. They’re both stubborn as hell and refuse to back down from an argument, prefer late nights in the hammock to early mornings and naturally gravitate towards the water.
But it wasn’t until they were stuck in the freighter that he realized they have similar dreams too. Kie’s face breaking out in a grin as she said got room for one more and the surprised chuckle that had escaped him, because shit, travelling the world with Kie? That was the ultimate dream, something he’d only allowed himself to think about in the far off recesses of his heart. Because if he didn’t let himself hope then he couldn’t be disappointed, right? And there was no way in hell Kiara Carrera would ever want to travel the world with him.
But she did.
And then he’d jumped in front of a machete meant for her, and she’d leapt into the ocean to keep him from drowning, and now here they are in a weird kind of limbo. Everything he thought he knew is slipping away, his certainty about how things were always going to be between him and Kie shifting like the unsteady grains of sand under their feet.
Both of them are so willing to risk their own lives to save each other that it knots them together in some integral way, more intricate than sharing a joint and a childhood, a connection deeper than he ever thought possible.
Like here in Poguelandia, far removed from the realities of life at home, doors that he was sure were permanently locked are slowly cracking open.
Kie’s lips part as she stares up at him, something crossing over her face that makes her eyes light up with recognition. He wonders what she’s seeing, what thoughts are going through her mind. Does she feel what he’s feeling, something delicate and small flickering to life between them?
He thinks she might, that maybe she’s right there with him, about to be pulled under by the waves too.
“Hey! JJ!”
Pope’s voice breaks the emotional moment, and they leap apart. Kie drops his hand, turning in the direction that Pope’s voice came from, and JJ freezes.
Pope.
Holy shit.
What is wrong with him?
Pope and Kie are still together, and here he is, pretty much macking on his best friend’s girl. Staring soulfully into her eyes and holding her hand for way longer than he should, getting lost in a moment that he has no business being a part of.
He is a terrible friend.
Even worse because his hand feels empty without her fingers.
Clenching his empty hands into fists, he turns as Pope approaches, his arms laden down with firewood.
“Yo,” JJ says in greeting.
“You just ditched me out there, dude,” Pope complains, dropping the firewood at their feet and swiping his forehead with his arm. Then he pauses, looking between JJ and Kiara suspiciously.
JJ’s stomach drops, but he forces himself to stay calm. He didn’t do anything wrong. They were just talking. And friends hold hands – it didn’t mean anything beyond that.
“What’s going on?” Pope asks.
“Nothing,” Kie says, dusting off her pants, her voice even. “We were just talking about what happened on the lifeboat.”
“Oh.” Realization dawns on Pope’s face as he understands why JJ took off like he did. “You didn’t know.”
JJ shrugs. “Hard to know what’s happening when you’re unconscious.”
Kie frowns at him, but Pope narrows his gaze on JJ’s forehead. “Yeah, we should probably clean that out again.”
“It’s fine.”
“It won’t be fine when it’s infected and we don’t have any medicine to save your life,” Pope says matter of factly.
JJ catches the way Kie’s shoulders tense out of the corner of his eye, and hurries to stop Pope from saying any more depressing shit. “Yeah, yeah, fine. Let’s go then Doctor Pope, and you can check me out.”
Pope rolls his eyes, but follows JJ towards their little medical set up, which is basically just the first aid kit that was on the lifeboat and the cleanest water they’ve been able to find.
After a moment of Pope prodding at the wound on his head, JJ can’t stay silent anymore.
“So like… is everything cool with you and Kie?”
Pope’s hands freeze before resuming their work. “Why do you ask?”
JJ shrugs, but it’s like once the words are out there, he can’t hold in the rest of his thoughts. “I just sensed some vibes, y’know, like things were off between you or something. Trouble in paradise.”
Pope snorts, turning away to mess around with the first aid supplies and avoid JJ’s eyes. “Yeah. It’s not exactly paradise anymore.”
“Oh, shit. What happened, bro?”
“She, uh… we decided we were better off as friends.”
JJ doesn’t want to feel the faint burst of hope in his chest, because Pope’s his friend and seems legitimately upset over wherever went down, but he’s an asshole and can’t help it.
“Sorry, man,” JJ says out loud, violently tamping down on anything else other than being a good friend to Pope. “That sucks.”
“It’s fine,” Pope says. “I… it’s been a few days and I was pissed at first, and hurt too, but now…”
His words trail off, and JJ prompts him, raising his eyebrows expectantly. “Now?”
“I dunno. Now, I think she may have been right.”
“Ah.” Something dangerous leaps to life in his chest and JJ furiously shoves it down.
“Yeah. I dunno,” Pope says again, before pressing a bandage to JJ’s head. His head thuds at the pressure, but he forces himself to keep a straight face. “Maybe it’s for the best. It kinda threw things off. Or it felt like it anyway. There’s a reason for the rule.”
Right. No Pogue on Pogue macking.
But then later, as they’re all settling in for the night, Kie drags her sleeping mat next to his – closer than ever before. Since they landed here they’ve been all sleeping pretty close together, but she plunks herself down so they’re nearly head to head.
He looks at her curiously, but she doesn’t say anything, just curls into a ball to ward off the cooler night air.
He can hear the quiet sound of her breathing and he knows that she’s still awake, but they lay there side by side for a long time, neither of them able to fall asleep. His mind races, turning over the events of the day – his emotional conversation with Kie, the feeling that things seemed to be shifting. Learning that her and Pope aren’t a thing anymore, beating down that stupid flicker of hope. The lingering reminder of the no Pogue on Pogue macking rule.
But it all seems to fade into the background the longer they lie side by side, like they’re in their own little bubble, far away from everything else. The reminder that she nearly drowned to save him still haunts him, but he reminds himself that she’s safe, she’s here with him. As stupid as he thinks it was, she’s not gonna back down about it, so he has to find some way to accept that she made that choice.
“JJ?”
Kie’s voice is barely audible, softly reaching his ears. He knew she wasn’t asleep, and wonders if she’s as thrown off by their earlier conversation as he is. Is she also being tortured by the desperate feeling of losing someone you can’t imagine your life without? There’s a rustling as she shifts position, and he rolls over to find her nearly nose to nose with him.
“Hi,” he says, blinking.
“Hi,” she replies, and it’s dark but he swears her eyes dip to his lips. Just once, and it’s so fast that when he thinks back on it, he figures he probably imagined it. She curls an arm under her head as a pillow, her lips pursing in a pout.
“Something on your mind?” he can't help but ask, because he has a billion things racing through his.
She lifts one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “My parents are probably so pissed at me.”
Of course. She’s thinking about her parents. Not him or whatever bullshit daydream he’s got in his head.
“I’m sure they’re probably really worried about you,” he says, because the Carreras have always seemed like decent parents who care a lot about Kie. He doesn’t think they understand her, from the little comments she’s made and the way they’re constantly harping on her about her friends and how she chooses to spend her time, but he can tell they genuinely love her.
“I don’t know about that.” Kie blows out a breath, closing her eyes for a moment before blinking them open. “They want to send me away.”
“Boarding school?” His heart gives a frantic thud in his chest, and he fights for his voice to remain neutral. She’d mentioned it offhand before, but the way she says it now makes it seem like a serious possibility. She can’t get sent away. He nearly lost it when she went to a different school, and she still lived a short bike ride away.
She shrugs again. “Some insane nature camp or something. For behavioural kids. Easy way to fix their problem child.”
A wave of anger rushes over him at the clear sadness on her face, the furrow in her brow reappearing. He wonders if he should reach out. He wouldn’t have before, but he thinks it might be okay now.
But she’s talking again before he has a chance, continuing on about her parents and boarding school, and he listens to every word, getting more and more upset on her behalf. He doesn’t know what the Carreras are thinking, because Kie is fucking wonderful exactly as she is and some nutjob wilderness camp isn’t going to fix her, because there’s nothing wrong with her in the first place.
He says as much and her gaze softens. She presses her lips together, her eyes crinkling. “Sorry. That was a lot. Thanks for listening.”
He shrugs. “‘Course, Kie. I’m always here for you.”
He doesn't know if he’s ever said it so blatantly, but just like earlier, there’s something about this island that makes him feel free. Her lips part slightly, and his gaze is immediately drawn to them. They’re chapped and a little sunburned, but he still wonders what she would taste like before he forces himself to reel in his thoughts.
Just because he’s feeling this wild sense of freedom doesn’t mean Kie thinks about him that way, he tells himself. In fact, she almost definitely doesn’t.
But then her eyes dart down to his mouth again, like they did before, only this time they don’t move away quite as fast. His tongue darts out unconsciously to wet his lips, and her eyes fly back to his. She lets out a shaky breath, and it feels like when they held hands earlier, gazes locked and loaded with meaning. Like maybe he’s not insane and there is something here, something potentially building between them.
He doesn’t know how long they stare at each other, both lost in the moment, but he drinks her in – the way the moonlight slants across her skin, bathing her in milky light. The frizz of curls tumbling over her shoulder, weighed down with saltwater and sand. The curve of her cheek as it pulls into a small smile, the flutter of lashes, inky against her skin.
The tug in his belly that draws him nearer, shifting until their noses are nearly brushing, until he can feel her breath against his skin. His heart nearly pounds out of his chest when she doesn’t pull away or ask him what the hell he’s doing. No, instead she lies there, held in that same limbo that he is, only a paper thin barrier between them that they’re both hesitant to break.
But he can’t kiss her like this. In the dark, on the ground. She deserves better than that.
Better than him, if he’s totally honest.
He can’t break through that barrier..
But it feels like there’s a possibility there. A possibility for more, eventually. The locked door between them slightly ajar, light leaking through the seams.
The reality of nearly losing her has made everything clearer, brighter, in a way that he hadn’t realized until he was confronted with what had happened. But now that he knows, he can’t unsee it. Can’t forget the way his entire world had stopped at the thought of her risking her life, of her dying, just to protect him.
As though she senses the direction that his thoughts have gone, she shifts away slightly, offering him a tiny smile. Changes the mood with just a few words.
“So this surf trip,” she says quietly. His heart soars when she says the words, bringing that secret dream out of the deepest recesses of his heart, out of that sweaty shipping container and into the open, the fresh night air breathing life into it. “What do you think about Australia?”
“Giant spiders and snakes? Count me in.”
She shudders. “I was thinking more about surfing.”
“Oh. Yeah that too,” he agrees.
He can’t help the way his pulse races the longer they whisper about their dream destinations, each one going on the mental list he’s had for years. He’s always figured it was just that – a dream. That it would live in the recesses of his mind because JJ Maybank travelling the world? Seemed pretty fuckin’ unthinkable. But whispering about it under the stars with Kie, giving voice to those secret hopes and listening to her share her own, dares him to think that maybe it’s not so impossible after all.
Her voice trails off in the middle of a sentence, replaced by quiet even breaths as she succumbs to sleep. JJ falls asleep shortly after, his eyes drifting shut to the rhythmic sound of the waves lapping at the shore and Kie’s breathing.
When they wake up, the sun is just peeking over the horizon and her fingers are tangled with his. It feels right, his empty hand holding hers once again, and he wonders if she feels it too, that sensation of belonging.
But she blinks her eyes open, sleepy mocha gaze meeting his, and pink rises to her cheeks as she loosens her grip on him.
“Sorry,” she murmurs, and he wants to tell her it’s okay, but she pushes herself up and disappears into the trees before he can get a word out.
The space beside him feels cold without her there, and he lets it sink in that clearly in the light of day, she doesn’t feel the same. And why would she? He’s not going to push it either. He refuses to be the one who tries again, because he’s been so damn obvious for years. She has to know how he feels about her.
But later that day she glances over at him, a wild grin on her face that catches him so wholly off guard that he stumbles ungracefully in the sand, nearly falling straight on his ass. She laughs, teasing him, and he glares at her reproachfully, snarking back. But his heart gallops in his chest when she offers him her hand and holds on a little too long, her eyes sparkling as her thumb swipes over the back of his hand before she drops it and turns away.
“You coming?” she calls over her shoulder when he just stands there like an idiot.
“Coming,” he responds, jogging after her.
His traitorous heart leaps as that unsteady feeling creeps back in, shifting everything he thought he knew. Poguelandia feels a bit like a new start, a place where they’re on even footing for the first time.
Things are definitely changing, he thinks as her laughter echoes across the wide expanse of sand. And he’s not sure what he’s gonna do about it.