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YOU THOUGHT HE WAS DIFFERENT. He said he was. But then again, so did all the ones before him.
After weeks of talking, of late-night texts and long drives, you’d started to believe him. He was gentle, attentive. He listened when you spoke of past relationships — how guys had used you, treated you like you were disposable. He’d sworn he wasn’t like that.
“I’d never hurt you,” he’d said that one night in his car, looking you right in the eyes. “Seriously, I care about you. I can wait, especially for someone like you who’s worth waiting for.”
But the truth had a way of revealing itself. Always.
It started subtly. A lingering touch that lasted a second too long. A compliment that felt more like an appraisal. Then, it reached a peak — A party that was too loud that pushed you two towards an empty room to escape the noise. A low, intimate conversation. A warm hand on your thigh. But you weren’t ready. You tried to pull away, to say no, but he was too strong.
His words, once so reassuring — “You know I won’t hurt you. Just trust me, babe.” — turned cold and demanding — “It’s not a big deal. It’s not like you’re a fuckin’ virgin. You gave it up to every other guy that whispered in your ear. Why not me?”.
And just like that, the promise was broken. The trust, shattered. The cycle repeated.
The details of what happened afterwards were blurry. A rush of fear, a hesitant head nod from you, a sick grin from him, hands roaming your body as you tried to find any glint of pleasure, and then… it was over. You were left alone, trembling, the echoes of his betrayal ringing in your ears.
You’d gathered your clothes off of the floor, ignoring his questions as you quickly dressed yourself. Regret and disgust filled your being. You knew you shouldn’t have given in. But it wasn’t your fault, you knew that. But it didn’t make you feel any better.
You didn’t know what to do, rushing out of the house after pushing your way through the party guests. You stood alone, the night air biting at the exposed skin on your arms as you breathed heavily, looking down the road. You needed to go home.
THE RAMSHACKLE PORCH OF THE CHATEAU WAS DIMLY LIT, the sound of the ocean a constant, rhythmic pulse in the background. You burst through the front door, tear steaks evident on your cheeks. “John B?” You called out, rushing inside and stopping in front of his door, knuckles rapping against the wood.
You knew your brother was probably sick of hearing about shitty guy after shitty guy, but he never made it seem that way. You just needed some familiarity, a sense of serenity. “Bree? Are you in there?” You knocked again, voice even more desperate this time.
Being met with no response once more, you sighed, deciding to open the door —- being met with an unoccupied bedroom.
“He’s with Sarah.” A voice startled you, turning to find JJ standing in the kitchen. You must’ve missed him when you rushed in. His face tightened instantly at the sight of your puffy eyes and the remnants of tears on your cheeks. He could read people, all of them, but you…you were always an open book to him. And right now, every page was filled with pain.
“Hey…what happened?” He was across the room in two strides, his voice rough with concern as one of his hands brushed your arm.
You couldn’t speak, a lump building in your throat. You shook your head, unable to find the words, the memory of what happened still too raw, too vivid.
JJ didn’t push. He didn’t demand explanations. He simply opened his arms, and you fell into them. “Okay…’s alright, you’re alright…” He comforted, arms squeezing you against him as you sobbed into his chest. His arms were strong, the embrace solid — a stark contrast to the fragility you felt inside. He smelled of salt and smoke, a scent that had always been familiar, comforting, even when you hadn’t acknowledged it. “D’you want me to call Bree? He’ll come back if he knows you’re upset-”
“No.” You protested through tears, turning your face so that your cheek was pressed to his chest instead of your whole face. “No, I don’t want to bother him. I just…I don’t know.” You sobbed harder. And he just held you, for a long time. You weeped, your sobs muffled against the fabric of his shirt, the item dampening with your tears.
He stroked your hair, his touch gentle, reassuring. He murmured soft, wordless sounds, a low rumble that vibrated through his chest and into you. He slowly walked you over the couch, guiding you to sit with him but never letting you go.
Finally, the storm within you began to subside, leaving behind a hollow ache. You pulled back slightly, your eyes red and swollen as you wiped the wetness from beneath your eyes, sniffling occasionally. He didn’t release you entirely, his hands still resting on your arms, his gaze searching your face with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.
“What happened this time?” he asked, his voice low and steady. You’d known JJ almost your entire life, he was your brother’s best friend and he was there for you as much as John B was, sometimes even more. Times like now. He’d seen every breakdown, every bed rot. Heard all the cries behind your locked door after each broken heart…
You hesitated. “…He promised he was different. And I was stupid enough to believe him.” You said tearfully, voice shaky. “I should’ve said no, but I…I felt like I couldn’t. He wouldn’t stop asking, he wouldn’t stop pushing for it-” The words came out in halting, broken phrases, the story tumbling from you like shards of glass.
JJ listened, his expression hardening with each word. His jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with a cold fury that you’d never seen before. “He hurt you.” JJ said, his voice dangerously soft. It wasn’t a question, by any means. And his soft voice couldn’t fool you — you knew all too well of JJ and his inclination to impulsive violence on behalf of people he cared for. “I’m gonna kill him.” he said, the words flat and devoid of emotion. It was a statement of fact, not a threat.
“No, JJ, please.” You protested, gripping his wrist and he moved to stand. “It’s not like I said no-”
“He forced you.” He argued, looking at you incredulously. “He basically slut-shamed you into-”
“I- I know, okay?” You cut him off, tears building in your eyes. “But…I just need someone, right now. I don’t want to be alone. So, please…can you just be that someone for me, right now? And you can hunt him down tomorrow and I won’t stop you.” You pleaded, grip tightening. “Please.” The thought of more violence on your behalf was unbearable.
JJ looked down at your hand, his gaze softening slightly. He sighed in defeat, trying to allow his anger to dissipate as he covered it with his own, his fingers warm. “Okay,” he said, his voice rough as he sat back down next to you. “Okay, I won’t.” He conceded, throwing an arm over your shoulders and pulling you to lay your head against him as you curled your legs up on the couch. “…But he doesn’t get to do this to you. He doesn’t get to… to take that from you.”
“I know,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. “But it’s not like he was wrong. I let so many guys do what they want all because I don’t know how to be alone or…how to love myself.”
“No,” He lifted his other hand, cupping your cheek. “No, you blame yourself every time a shitty guy does a shitty thing. You’re not at fault for havin’ a heart.” His thumb brushed gently against your skin. “And you’re not broken,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “You’re the sweetest girl I know. You deserve to know that.”
His words, his touch, were like a balm to your wounded soul. You looked at him, really looked at him, and saw something you’d never seen before: a vulnerability, a tenderness, that lay beneath the recklessness.
“JJ…” You trailed off in a shaky whisper.
“Hey, look at me,” he said, his voice husky. “…I care about you. More than anyone. And I swear to God, I would never, never do anything to hurt you. And I won’t let anyone else do it ever again, you hear me?.” He was saying something. He wasn’t asking. “From now on, ‘s just me and you, alright? You won’t have to worry about another asshole who can’t stay loyal or a dickhead who can’t take no for an answer.” He assured. “You got me from now on.”
Your gaze dropped to his lips, and your breath hitched. You’d never thought of JJ in that way before. He was your friend, your brother’s best friend, your honorary protector, and one of the few people you truly trusted. But in this moment, with his eyes full of a raw emotion that mirrored your own, the line between friendship and something more blurred and then vanished entirely.
You leaned in, almost without realizing it and he didn’t hesitate in meeting you halfway, his lips brushing against yours in a tentative, feather-light touch — a question, a silent plea for permission. You answered him with a sigh, your lips parting slightly as he pressed forward, connecting his lips with your own. He quickly deepened the kiss, his hand moving from your cheek to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair.
It was nothing like the forced, violating encounter you’d just endured. It was soft and gentle — a genuine love behind it that you’d never felt before. It was a kiss of healing, of reassurance, of a real love that had been there all along, waiting to be acknowledged.
When you finally broke apart, breathless and trembling, you rested your forehead against his. “Stay with me,” you pleaded, voice clouded with need. “Please. Just… stay.”
And JJ didn’t need to be asked twice.
He stayed. And in the days and weeks that followed, JJ showed you what it meant to be truly cared for. He was patient, tender, and fiercely protective. He showed you what love was, trying to rewrite all the times you were shown what it wasn’t.