Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

4.

Summer had finally blanketed the Pogue’s lives with its warm freedom, leaving their skin sticky with sweat and their hair damp from the ocean after every long day. 

Usually JJ didn’t mind. A day where he didn’t feel the cool spray from a wave hit his face or the tug of his skin from the sting of the sun was a day wasted in his eyes. He woke up with the sun so he figured he might as well watch it leave the sky, feel the last of its rays as it dipped below the horizon for the night. So that’s exactly what he did. 

Every day and every night. 

Feeling as though the hours were limited now more than ever he tried to spend his time with John B, Pope and Kiara like there was no tomorrow. Their company kept him at ease, kept his mind in that sweet place between hypervigilance and not giving a shit. It was just right, to the point where he found himself spending more nights at John B’s, knowing he’d wake up to a full day's worth of all the things he loved. 

He wondered if they noticed, how much he relied on them nowadays. He hopes they didn’t but in moments where it takes a little longer to relax and slip into that sweet place, he picks up on things. Like how Pope now asks if he wants to help him with deliveries for his dad and split the money. Or like how Kiara has started asking him if he wanted to eat with her at The Wreck and take leftovers with him at the end of her shifts. Even John B, in his own subtle ways that aren’t exactly subtle because it’s John B, has started to automatically include him in his plans. 

JJ had to pretend to find words easily when he asked him if he had his bag packed to go camping with him and his dad, simply leaving out the part where he asks if he’s going in the first place. 

Sometimes it would annoy him but for the most part he figured it was tolerable if it meant getting to spend a whole summer with the three of them, doing whatever the hell they wanted. He could handle the job invitations as he held up flashcards for Pope -- for his so-called independent study that JJ was convinced was just him teaching himself shit for fun -- if it meant getting to see his friend when he wasn’t helping Heyward. He even found himself enjoying the walks to The Wreck with Kiara, sometimes meeting her at the end of her shift and unconsciously putting the chairs on the tables so she could sweep the floor quicker. And even though he knew what she was doing when she gave him leftovers, her parents were even worse than Heyward when it came to ‘free time’ so any time with her was enough for him, no matter what they were doing. 

He didn’t even sweat the small questions about Luke John B would ask in the early mornings when it was just the two of them, fishing lines in the still, glassy water and long sleeve shirts keeping them warm before the sun rose. Years of handing over his trust has only convinced him John B cares in the way that doesn’t make him overstep. He also knew he and Big John were the kind of people that just wanted to help, who gave him things and experiences without asking for anything in return, which was something he still couldn’t wrap his head around.

Sometimes, though, the summer air was heavier than he liked and the need to utilize the sunshine in any form of physical activity was nowhere to be seen. The sweat coating his skin was more of a nuisance now, as was the bickering he had been trying -- and miserably failing -- to block out for the last fifteen minutes. 

His eyes were trained on the porch's ceiling and for a while he debated moving, with nothing but the football in his hands having any kind of motion. The couch cushions were hot against his back and even his leg, which was propped up on the back of the couch, felt like it was filled with concrete, stuck in place from the combination of humidity and stubbornly stagnant air pressing down on him. 

The only problem with moving was that it required him to actually move, to use energy he’s not sure he had and physically relocate his limbs and that sounded all around impossible at the moment. 

He debates it for all of ten more seconds before finally turning his head to the side, glancing at Pope who was sitting in the chair in the corner of the porch. Pope had been almost as quiet as him, though likely for different reasons. He was either too preoccupied with his summer reading currently sprawled in his lap or just silently observing in that way he did sometimes when he felt it was better to keep to himself. 

JJ, on the other hand, couldn’t stand the sound of it, of both of his best friends arguing. It made him want to run off to somewhere quiet, somewhere with less tension and needless bitching about things that in JJ’s eyes, didn’t really warrant the level of shouting that was currently filling the porch. Even if it wasn’t the full on screaming and throwing anything within a five foot vicinity that left his muscles aching in a gripping fear, it was still enough to keep that buzz in the back of his brain. It got louder when he thought about it too much but he’s been out of weed for a while so smothering its intensity was not an option now. 

Pope doesn’t meet his eyes, apparently too engrossed in the argument taking place in between them. Kiara’s giving John B an annoyed frown, shifting under her own summer reading while brushing a few loose pieces of extra curly hair out of her face. 

“God! You’re starting to sound like my mom, John B! Why is it this one time you’re suddenly being all aware-- “

John B’s hands go slack on top of the skateboard in his lap as he gives her a somewhat calm look, the look he got when someone was fighting with him and he hadn’t reached his breaking point yet, because it took a lot for John B to get pushed that far. JJ liked that. When he fought with John B, he found his mouth got him in way less trouble than it normally would’ve, simply because it was John B, who didn’t let things sink so deep in his skin. Unlike Kiara. At least lately, JJ thinks distractedly, not for the first time since a few weeks ago, ever since he saw her crying at school and she lied straight to his face. 

Normally she was hella collected, painted with all the things JJ associated with...gentle. Like being in a constant high, while also being sweet and considerate and shit. Easygoing while also not afraid to have her voice be heard if there was a threat -- like a mouthy Kook or a new article on microplastics or him stealing her delicately put together s’more. 

Now, she was snapping at them more often, smiling one second and staring at the ground in a pout the next, two seconds away from either starting a fight or just rolling her eyes and walking off. 

JJ’s had his fair share of eye rolls from Kiara Carrera in his lifetime but they were no longer followed by the occasional giggle or nudge to the arm or shove he could easily dodge if he wanted. They were what JJ knew to be impatient, now, knew the signs like he knew his name and that without the moon there would barely be any tides and that his dad liked when he asked questions when they were working on boat motors together. And he knew Kiara wasn’t an impatient person, not really, which meant something was wrong. 

At first his brain supplied ‘girl problems’ -- though he’d never say it aloud because he didn’t have a fucking death wish -- but it’s been over a month and even he knew that means something else was setting her off. 

He lazily runs his fingers over the football, biting his cheek raw as he tries to listen rather than watch his friends compete in their stubbornness. 

“Your mom?” John B asks. “I thought you didn’t tell her.”

Kiara shakes her head seriously, avoiding eye contact. “I never said that!” 

John B bows his head back down to continue tightening his wheel. “You didn’t have to ‘cause I know if you did, you wouldn't be asking us-- “

“She’s not asking us, anymore, she’s asking you,” Pope clarifies, receiving all eyes on him for half a second before John B goes on. 

“We wouldn’t even be having this conversation if you did because your parents would’ve definitely said no. Unless that is the reason you’re talking about it which, I’m gonna be honest, Kie, that’s also a horrible idea, goin’ behind their backs like that-- “

“John B, I’m bein’ serious!” 

JJ stops his fingers for a moment, refraining from reaching up and rubbing his eyes from the blossoming headache as he peers over at John B. 

“Yeah, JB. She thinks you’re the oldest looking, I’d take the compliment and run, bro. Even though it’s wrong-- “

“Shut up, JJ,” Kiara snaps. JJ looks at her now, trying to gauge how far he can go before they all have a full blown fight. 

“What?” JJ gestures at John B. “You want someone who looks older to go with you so it’s not as weird but he’s still got that goody two shoes ‘I’ll have her home by eight, Sir’ look to his face. And his hair, don’t even get me started-- “ 

“He has a point,” Pope mumbles. John B stares at JJ a little amused as he goes on.

“I mean how many grown ass dudes do you see walkin’ around with hair like that? It’s literally looked the same since fifth grade-- “

Kiara narrows her eyes, though with less annoyance. “JJ, all of your guy’s hair has looked the same since fifth grade.“

JJ looks back up at the ceiling, fidgeting with the football again. “You’re deviating from my point, Kie. Think about it. The second you walk into whatever shady fuckin’ garage you’re plannin’ on hittin’ up, this kids gonna out you in less than five minutes. I’d give you two minutes tops, actually, and that’s me bein’ generous. You look older on your own, he’s just got that face-- “ 

“Stop callin’ me kid, I’m literally older than you,” John B interrupts. 

“No you’re not. Don’t lie to yourself, bro,” JJ says innocently, knowing fully well John B was, in fact, older than him. 

“You’re funny, J,” John B admits. “Really.” 

Pope takes his hat off and tiredly tosses it on top of the pile of notes on his knees, giving Kiara a sympathetic look. “JJ’s got a point, Kie. John B doesn’t do well under that kind of pressure. Do you remember gym class in sixth grade? The bowling unit?” 

JJ’s laugh starts small then grows as the memories come back to him. The bowling unit of sixth grade was one of the first instances where the line between Kooks and Pogues was drawn. It was also the day JJ learned what it felt like to get his ass handed to him. Well, his team's ass, more like, consisting of the four of them and all thanks to John B and his inability to get the ball to hit the pins right. Or at all, really. 

John B snickers guiltily too and JJ’s grateful for Pope's levity, even if he didn’t know what he was doing.

John B points his wrench at Pope accusingly. “That’s low, Pope. What, are we just gonna bring up every time I’ve been and failed under pressure? I’m pretty sure trying to win a dumbass game of bowling is way different than going with my friend to get a tattoo behind her parents’ backs.” 

“I don’t see the difference,” JJ mumbles. 

“I’m just saying,” Pope says, “in terms of odds that it would work-- “

“You know I hate bowling, Pope.” 

“Actually, I think bowling hates you.” 

Kiara doesn’t laugh but JJ doesn’t miss the small smirk either. “Then why did you insist we compete against them in the first place?” she asks, raising her eyebrows. 

John B’s jaw drops playfully. “That wasn’t me! It was obviously JJ!” 

JJ continues to laugh, this time knowing it was him who was guilty. He tosses the football up a few inches before it falls back in his hands, bumping his chest as he shakes his head. 

“Four people on our team and he still manages to drag us down, poor kid” --he feels an empty soda can hit his shoulder from John B’s direction-- “you know, Kie and I easily broke a hundred and we still lost to ‘em! I’m not lettin’ you forget that, JB, that’s goin’ to the grave, bro. It should’ve been, like” --he taps his temple-- “mathematically impossible, right?” 

Kiara lets out an accusing hum. “I think he would’ve averaged out if you guys didn’t frickin’ behave like it was life or death-- “ 

Pope looks at her seriously. “But it was.” 

JJ slowly sits up, throwing his legs over the side of the couch and falling back into the cushions, shaking his head knowingly. “No, no. There is no averaging out when you’re” --he drops his hand, as if demonstrating their ranks-- “whatever’s below below average-- “ 

John B pushes his hair back only for it to messily flop back on his forehead. “Oh, I’m sorry I don’t have a lane built into my house to practice on everyday?” 

JJ shrugs at his sarcasm. “You should be.” 

“Okay, okay,” Pope interrupts. “So on top of establishing JB’s actual shit at bowling, we’ve still got the tattoo problem. I agree with JJ, he’s not a good pick, Kie.” 

Kiara bows her head, as if summoning the patience. JJ follows her gaze, noticing the familiar ‘478’ written a few times on the back of her hand. He stares at it for a moment before she lets out a quick sigh. 

“Why do I feel like you guys aren’t taking me seriously?” 

“We are, Kie! I am!” John B defends. “And I would go with you but I really don’t think it’s a good idea. I mean, aren’t you supposed to be, like, eighteen for a tattoo?” 

Kiara throws her arms up. “Since when did that ever matter? You guys literally do dumb shit all the time! Plus plenty of people don’t follow that stupid rule anyway.”

“So you admit it’s dumb?” Pope mutters. Kiara shoots him a glare. 

“Really, Pope?” 

John B distractedly starts cleaning his wrench with the corner of his flannel shirt, not at all picking his words carefully enough. 

“Yeah, but you’re not those people, Kie. You’re like, sheltered and shit.” 

Everyone’s quiet then, making JJ’s hot skin itch uncomfortably. He imagines the tension makes the air stand still, like all of the pictures of molecules in Pope’s science books, and maybe that’s why his lungs feel like they’re pulling in molasses all of a sudden. Oxygen wasn’t supposed to feel this heavy, right? 

He hears Pope awkwardly clear his throat as he keeps his eyes on his football, marveling at how stupid his friend could be sometimes. 

JJ lets out a low whistle, risking it and sneaking a peak at Kiara, catching frustrated tears in her eyes as she throws John B daggers. 

“Sheltered?” She forces a bitter chuckle. “Are you serious?” 

“I think what John B means to say,” Pope rambles, “is that tattoos are pretty permanent and fifteen year olds aren’t exactly at their peak age for decision making, not to mention the possibility of infection-- “

“Pope!” 

“But,” he continues, trying to make amends. “If you hold off for a few years then you’ll be less likely to regret it.” 

JJ notices her reach for her necklaces as she raises her voice. “Dude, it’s not a life changing decision! Oh my God, and it’s not technically permanent, I could get it removed if I really wanted to.” 

“You know that costs even more money,” JJ mumbles, receiving a look. 

“No shit.” 

John B holds up placating arms. “Okay, okay, comeback here, I’m all for you expressing yourself, Kie, but I also like having you over and if I helped you get a tattoo I wouldn’t exactly be your parents' favourite person. They already don’t like me.” 

Kiara rolls her eyes. “They don’t not like you. Honestly, John B, you’re being like Pope right now--”

Pope tilts his head to give her a look. John B weakly tosses his hands up. “Kie, I’m not trying to be a dick, okay? I’m just making it so your parents don’t shun us and we never see you again.” 

Kiara tiredly raises her eyebrows. “Dramatic, don’t you think?” 

“If parents were out of the picture,” John B shrugs innocently, “I’d leave with you right now. You know I would--” 

“Yeah, I’m actually not so sure now.” 

They’re all quiet again, with only the sound of the water gently lapping onto shore in the distance and the rooster giving an occasional crow. Then Pope straightens his posture in that curious way he does. 

“What are you even trying to get back at them for?” 

Kiara lifts her gaze over to Pope and for a second, JJ thinks she’s going to burst into tears. Instead, she looks back down at the book in her lap before reaching down for her bag. “I didn’t say I was--alright, you know what?” She starts shoving things in the bag, bending the papers as they crunch at the bottom of her backpack. “Forget it. Forget I ever asked. You guys are the worst.” 

“Kie, c’mon--”

“Kiara, wait--” 

“I help you guys with shit all the time, I just thought this one thing!” Kiara’s voice shakes as she stands, not in the way that meant she was about to cry but that she was pissed, JJ knew. 

He gives John B a ‘now you did it’ look, mumbling “Mama’s mad.” 

Kiara doesn’t even acknowledge him, which showed a whole other level that got JJ right back in his head. 

He was actually excited when she brought up the tattoo idea, wondering why he hadn’t thought of it before because it was so her. So-and-so knew so-and-so from school, said that they’d give her a small tattoo without giving her trouble over being too young, that they’d sanitize their needle and look the other way as long as they got paid. They were an art student, even, which told JJ they weren’t completely out of their depth and maybe Kiara wouldn’t feel the need to get it removed someday. 

He could tell she was still nervous about it.

Her asking John B to go with her, hinting that it was because he looked older, was what piqued JJ’s interest. Then John B, to JJ’s mild surprise, shot her down which led her to ask Pope who not so surprisingly shot her down as well, too caught up with the lack of sanitation revolving around the whole thing. 

She never asked him, though. It all happened so fast he didn’t have time to let himself wonder why but it still stung. He was right there, waiting to ask her twenty questions about the tattoo and yet she’d rather storm off, apparently, not even looking his way. 

“Kie, come on, don’t leave,” John B pleads, looking a little helpless as he starts setting his skateboard on the floor, messily placing his tools on top. 

Kiara shakes her head, muttering something about bullshit under her breath as she swings her bag over her shoulder. She’s just about to step through the door to the yard when JJ clears his throat. 

“I’ll go with you.” 

She pauses, looking very undecided as to why as she turns to look at him. Her face then flashes hurt. “Don’t be an ass.” 

JJ shrugs and drops his gaze from her. “I’m serious. I’ll go with you, why not?”

“Why not?” Pope repeats, rubbing his chin sarcastically. “Hmm, maybe ‘cause then both of you will end up getting a tattoo without supervision, which means both of you will get a blood borne disease.” 

“So?” JJ says, just to test him. “No need for supervision, Chief, never has been.”

“Yeah, that’s just not true.” 

“Also, you see me as the tattoo type?” JJ grins.

“Mmm, I don’t see that ending well,” John B dismisses. 

JJ looks at John B before closing one of his eyes like he’s looking through a telescope, pointing his football at him. 

“Well you’re too goody two shoes and you’re” --he points at Pope-- “too paranoid. That leaves me” --he lazily gestures to his chest-- “to take on the burden of watching Kie get a badass tattoo which, by the way, she’s probably gonna get anyway so you guys bein’ pussies isn’t stopping her from goin’ behind her parents backs or preventing any hepatitis’s goin’ around--” 

“Hepatitis’s?” John B mumbles. 

“And,” JJ goes on, tossing John B the football and watching as he just barely catches it. “It also means it’s your guys fault if we get a flesh eating disease since you think we’re that irresponsible and need fuckin’ supervision even though you’re both throwin’ in the towel.” 

Pope tiredly covers half his face with his hands. “Are you seriously trying to guilt trip us right now? With hepatitis’?” 

“Nah, you guys have already backed out, your invitations are revoked and all that shit. Too late to change your minds now, sorry not sorry..” JJ shakes his head as he assures them, half as a joke though he knows for a fact neither of them have changed their minds. Maybe it had to do with the thirty minutes of fighting he just sat through that handed him the confidence. 

“You’re enjoying this too much, dude,” John B accuses, flexing his fingers over the laces on the football. 

“You’re not enjoying this enough, bro, it’s a friggin’ tattoo!” JJ clarifies, glancing over at Kiara who’s still looking at him with an expression he didn’t know too well. She didn’t look pissed to the point of speechlessness anymore which was good, though there was still a frown that stuck, making his stomach clench. 

She finally averts her eyes from his, peering down at the strap of her backpack. 

“We’re not gonna get a blood borne disease,” she says, grimacing in the slightest before a hint of a smile tries to break through. She finally looks between Pope and John B, wiping the smile away as if to instill the fact that they weren’t forgiven yet. “And if anyone's at risk of a flesh eating disease, it’s you two,” she raises her eyebrows at JJ and John B. “Walking through the dirty water out back behind Mr. Cayman’s yard. And don’t even get me started on your BS on tetanus shots.”

“Water’s not that dirty, Kie. I think JJ’s body’s been through worse, like, I don’t know, fishhooks getting freaking impaled through his shoulder,” John B starts, getting cut off by the sound of Pope getting ready to defend himself for the twentieth time, reaching for his hat to wave around. JJ breaks out in a giggle, remembering that day on the Pogue when he taught Pope how to efficiently tie his hook to his line. 

“It was one time! Literally one tiny, inconsequential time!” 

“Inconsequential?” JJ repeats, rubbing his shoulder just like he did the days that followed the accident, milking the short-lived pain now like he did then, just to get Pope all stuttery and guilty. “That shit burned for a week! I have evidence!” He lifts his sleeve up, eyeing the scar before shrugging. “Collateral in teaching a hopeless fisherman, I suppose.” 

Pope throws his hat at JJ, having developed an adequate ‘JJ Maybank Bullshit’ detector. “You actually can’t help yourself, can you?” 

JJ just barely catches the hat instead, smiling as he flips it through the air, noticing the small smirk on Kiara’s face before she turns and lets the screen door clap shut. He throws the hat on and jumps to his feet, quickly chasing after her. 

He ends up halfway down the steps by the time she's heading towards the driveway. 

“We doin’ this, then?” he calls after her. 

Kiara pauses in her strides, not even fully turning to look at him before answering. 

“Be back around seven?”

“Copy that!” 

–

JJ’s not sure he’s stopped smiling since he stepped foot in the small garage that smelled strongly of weed and the scent that always flooded his nose when he went to other people’s houses. Old cardboard boxes, the spray they used to clean the counter and the sweet air conditioning that rarely filled the vents in his house. 

Even though he couldn’t understand why they needed air conditioning in the garage in the first place, he wasn’t complaining, with the way the humidity has been bleeding into the darker hours lately. 

It was late now as they walked down the road, the only smell that latched onto the air – and most likely their clothes – was the remnants of weed that heavily lingered when on the Cut. That and the saltwater getting carefully carried from the shore. JJ didn’t mind either smells, having grown used to them pretty early on, although now they were more pleasantly potent, making the night wrap him up in some visceral blanket that sat comfortably on his shoulders. 

The weed was familiar and the saltwater calmed him. 

Thing was he had a feeling that said blanket wasn’t brought on from how long they’ve been stumbling around the Cut or how close they were to the shore but more from the girl currently leaning into his side, breathless from laughter. 

He couldn’t name that feeling, but whatever. 

“It’s a dolphin, JJ, it’s not badass!” 

JJ dramatically holds out his arms, causing both of them to stop in the middle of the periodically lit and quiet street. Kiara’s still smiling as she gives him a confused look but he has to look anywhere but or else he’d stare. Maybe not stare but definitely lose his train of thought in the funny way he was good at hiding and even better at pretending that it was normal to feel like that with a friend. 

He knew it wasn’t. It happened, sometimes. Only with her. Nothing new. Just more prominent right now, annoyingly front and center. 

But they were giddy and high off each other’s energy that simply bounced back and forth so it didn’t feel off, didn’t make him stop and catch himself like he’s been doing more and more lately. 

It actually felt nice. 

“Hold on, hold on, hold on.” He takes a sip of his steadily melting slushie that they spent their last few quarters on as he brushes her hair from her shoulder, gently moving her as if to get better light. A bright white bandage the size of his palm sat taped over her shoulder blade, almost near her neck, hiding her new little secret. 

He hums through his straw before swallowing, grimacing at the brain freeze. “No, yeah. That’s totally badass, Kie.” 

“It’s still covered up, dumbass,” she giggles, turning her head as if to get a look herself. He tosses her hair back, throwing a piece in her face before they continue walking. 

“Yeah, but I saw it before he covered it up and it was a pretty badass dolphin, as far as dolphins go.” 

She nods, then ducks her head as she removes the plastic lid from her cup, stirring the slush with her straw. 

“Thanks for going with me,” she blurts out, as if the confidence it required was only momentary. 

JJ glances over at her after a second, brushing off how odd it was. Not that she didn’t use manners but they were usually left unspoken between the two of them. 

“Uh, dude, you think I’d miss you getting your first tattoo? Fat chance and you know it, don’t pretend like you don’t.” 

“My first tattoo?” she asks, smirking at him under one of the lamp posts. “You think there’s gonna be more?” 

“Yeah, ‘cause you’ll get all these little ones on your hands and shit, just like your writing except you can’t wash them off, obviously.” He looks down at her hands as if for reference, gesturing with a wave. “And you’ll have a sea turtle one next, before either a sun or some…fucking…astrology thing goin’ up your arm.” 

Kiara glances down at her hand like she was caught in thought before chuckling. “Not some basic ass palm tree, since you seem to think I’m so predictable?” 

He grins into his straw. “Not predictable, I just got you figured out, ya know?”

She snorts. “Yeah right.” 

“You doubt?”

“You think you do,” she says, just to rile him up. It sorta works. 

“It’s not a bad thing, Kie,” he reassures, biting on his straw distractedly as they both step out of the road from an oncoming car. “And don’t think it was easy, it took a good few years of paying attention.”  

She nudges his arm, stumbling over something on the curb. “All so you could tell which tattoos I get?”

He was half glad she didn’t dwell on his sentence too much, especially since it wasn’t exactly true, and he hated lying to her. It was easy, noticing and remembering things about her, to the point where he was pretty confident it was unconscious at times. 

Whether she was taking him seriously or not is something he’s learned is out of his control. 

So he just nods. “Yup.” 

She smiles and even though they were in the dark part of the road now, it was still the brightest thing he’d seen all day. 

“We should get matching tattoos someday,” she suggests as their feet go from hitting asphalt to wood chips, the light from the streetlamps blending into the lights around the old playground. 

Even at night, at a time he never really spent at the park, it was still nostalgic. It was his number one meeting place as a kid, nicely located between his house and John B’s. He could see that the familiar structures were now blurred in color from age. The monkey bars that once helped him settle any ties via races with John B were faded and dirty now, starkly different from the vivid blue that sat on the surface years ago. 

He has memories on the playground with Kiara too, almost equally competitive from the way she could never turn down a dare or let him win in literally anything. 

He smirks and looks at her now as she’s peering at the dark ground with a small smile of her own. 

“Hell yeah we should.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Oh yeah, just have to make sure we go to a parlor next time so you don’t get all nervous on me.” 

Kiara raises her head and gives him a look. “I wasn’t nervous.” 

He grins with the straw still hanging from his mouth, tilting his head innocently. “It’s okay, Kie. You were nervous, I get it.” 

She gives a guilty giggle. “Dude, I wasn’t. Shut up.” 

“It’s why you asked John B and Pope to go with you.” 

She shakes her head with a lazy smile, giving her cup a long look before tossing it in the small dingy trash can. “Okay, yeah, I was nervous. Whatever.” She points at him to hold off his oncoming teases. “But it felt hella sketchy at one point, admit it.” 

He shrugs honestly, not really knowing how comfortable they were supposed to feel going into a stranger's garage and trusting them with a tattoo gun. 

“That wasn’t why I asked them, though,” she finally mumbles. 

JJ takes the lid off his drink to get the last bit before throwing it away, humming curiously. They both make their way to the steps to get to the slides, sitting side by side, knees bumping. 

After a moment Kiara turns to face him, pulling a leg up before messing with her shoelace. “I mean I knew Pope wasn’t going to be on board, I’m not stupid. And it was a crapshoot asking John B but I’m not really surprised he said no either, even though it’s still actual bullshit.” 

“I think Pope was just trying to scare you into not getting it,” JJ admits, watching her fingers fumble with the laces. 

“Yeah,” she mutters bitterly, “I kinda got that they didn’t wanna go with me.” 

Kiara’s quiet for a while and suddenly it’s back, the heavy look of hurt on her face, with a hint of nervousness that put him on edge. He suddenly wishes he’d chosen different words as he mindlessly kicks some wood chips aside under his boot. 

“Nah,” he fishes for that safe place, the one where none of them were fighting and all was easygoing, just how he liked it, hoping to diverge from this prickly say-one-wrong-thing-and-you-won’t-forget-it deal. “You know, funny enough, I don’t think they saw it like that. I think they just heard ‘tattoo’ and got all uptight about it,” he explains. 

She looks up from her shoes to give him a glare. 

“Don’t defend them, JJ, you know how fucked up it is,” she bristles. “I mean just last week I helped John B literally trespass Mr. Hardings yard for firewood–” 

JJ frowns. “Mr. Hardings? Cranky Mr. Hardings who owns a shotgun?” 

She exaggerates a nod. “Yeah! And two days ago it was stealing ice from the gas station for the coolers! I mean do you think he thought about what my parents would think then? Probably fucking not.” 

JJ smirks at the thought of Kiara trying to steal anything. She had heavier hands than him when it came to swiping things that didn’t belong to her and it was honestly a little entertaining, watching her squirm when he shoved unpaid gum in his pockets or slipped a pack of socks in his backpack. The worst the store clerks did when they actually caught him was tiredly tell him if his daddy hadn’t given him enough lunch money then he’d have to wait till he did – because the only ones that caught him were the ones that knew the Maybank name, knew they had sticky hands and bad habits that didn’t lead to fathers giving their sons allowances. 

They didn’t call the cops – most of the time – and they didn’t have a shotgun sitting behind their door, waiting to be used the second they deemed worthy like Mr. Hardings did. He made a mental note to remind John B to knock it off with messing around in his yard, that there were plenty of other neighbors that didn’t give a fuck if you snooped around their half assed piles of firewood mostly because they didn’t have nearly as many fires as the Pogues did. 

He lightly kicks her leg that was hanging from the steps. 

“Damn, Kie, now you’re makin’ me nervous. He’s like Mrs. Crain level creepy.” 

She shakes her head stubbornly, that defensive flare reaching a point to where he didn’t feel like joking anymore. “Why? You guys do stuff like that all the time! I mean, you don’t–” she cuts herself off, almost shyly before starting again, a little softer. “You don’t think I’m sheltered, do you?” 

JJ jerks his head down, licking his lips while debating how bad of a trap this was. “Uh, I’m not really the right person to ask, Kie.” 

“Why not?”

He just scoffs as if it’s obvious. “‘Cause I’m like the polar opposite of sheltered.” 

“So you think I’m sheltered.” 

“I–” he chuckles, mentally socking John B in the arm for even bringing up the sheltered thing. “I didn’t say that, I just mean everyone I look at seems coddled in one way or another, it’s just how it is. I mean your mom texts you a lot, asking where you are and when you’ll be home but I don’t know what that means. Could be overbearing, could be what parents are supposed to do, I don’t fuckin’ know, dude.” 

Kiara’s quiet for a minute, drawing attention to the fact that this could easily slip into talking about things JJ didn’t really deem to be his specialty. So he nudges her in that easy way they did to indicate such and smiles. “All I know is the parent who doesn’t give a shit about where I am or what I do is my preferred choice.” 

She’s clearly unconvinced with the deflection but luckily doesn’t push, just slowly drops her gaze back down to her laces and sighs. 

“I just don’t wanna be tiptoed around.”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “I don’t tiptoe around you.” 

Kiara slowly pauses to peer back at him and he doesn’t look away this time, though he’s not sure why. He should because she had that distinctive lilt to her voice that he knew meant she was about to get emotional and he hated when that happened, mostly because he didn’t know what the fuck to do when she did. 

Emotions were distracting, not to mention messy as hell, which was probably why her chuckle sent a wave of unwarranted affection through his chest that honest to God confused the shit out of him. He shouldn’t be getting caught up in the sound of it, or trying to remember the last time he heard it or trying not to stare at the way her eyes did that thing that probably had a word he just didn’t know. Something that meant something significant like home. 

No, he shouldn’t be doing any of those things. She was upset, which meant he should push down that creeping urge to wait it out and pretend it’s not there and actually help her. Consolation, he thinks absently – that was okay to do now, right? Emotions usually got him hit, both from how he showed them and the way his dad hypocritically became driven by them – leaning into any of them left him with a deep set dread. 

That same dread gradually loosened its hold when he was with her, he realized. When it wasn’t so foreign to offset her hurt, just a little difficult from the sting that lingered from the last time he mistook his dad’s silence as permission to feel the things he was convinced made him weak by the time his dad wasn’t so silent anymore. 

Acting like he wasn’t completely kicking himself for thinking off topic thoughts he watches the smile fade from her face as she stumbles through her words, that balance of shyness and confidence he recognized way too quickly. 

“I just don’t like when he treats me different, ya know? Like, it’s not protecting me or whatever, I don’t need him to make decisions for me. That’s why I didn’t ask you,” she finally admits, like it was a silly thing of the past now. 

He lets his confusion slip onto his face for only half a second before she cuts off his joke about how John B had a problem when it came to protecting people. 

“You don’t do that, like, ever. Treat me differently, I mean. I didn’t ask you to go because I knew if I did you would’ve said yes and I was still trying to convince myself it was something I wanted rather than something to throw back at my parents.” She trails off at the last part, almost like she’s still not open to talking about it. “Ended up being both, I guess,” she mumbles. 

JJ hums, pausing in twisting the band around his fourth finger, a little lost in her reluctance at even admitting she was trying to get back at her parents. Usually that was the shameless shit she would talk about, when Pope was there to try and rationalize whatever bullshit Mr. and Mrs. Carrera had done to get under her skin and John was there to try and cheer her up. 

He glances over to her, raising his eyebrows with a playful shrug. “So I’m your enabler, even when it’s to go against your parents.”

She laughs at that, looking like she’s about to confirm it before she catches herself. “Don’t act like you didn’t know that.” 

Innocently holding up his hands, he feels his arm brush her knee from their closeness. “I wouldn’t give me too much credit, Kie. I actually think JB’s startin’ to rub off on me, I gotta stop spending so much time around him.” 

“Oh, he’s just starting? You sure?” 

“Yup.” 

She shakes her head with a smile before shrugging her unbandaged shoulder. “Sometimes obliviousness is good though, ya know?” Like,” her dark eyes search the ground with a hint of excitement. “I just got a tattoo!”

He nods, finding her smile to be far too infectious. “You did.” 

“And I had so much fun tonight, J. I just spent all my money, all my savings on it but I’m not even mad! Like, getting it was scary but you were there and…and then it just wasn’t anymore.” Kiara shyly smiles down at her shoes, that painfully accepting glint in her dark brown eyes as they meet his. 

“Things are just easier with you, sometimes.”

JJ…blanks. 

Every quip and comeback dies on his tongue because he was simply at a loss, unsure of how to hide it, too. It’s either seconds or minutes that pass, he couldn’t tell with the way they were just taking each other in, with looks he’s fairly certain they’ve never shared before. 

That…that wasn’t right. Didn't make any goddamn sense, really. Things weren’t supposed to be easy with him – nothing about his life could be dwindled down to such a concept. Mom wanted to forget she ever had a part in his life, Dad couldn’t look him in the face some days and he was just relieved John B decided his company wasn’t so bad after all those years ago. Relieved, as in, if he believed in God or knew whoever was responsible for his miserable life was listening, he would for sure thank them, probably more than he should some days, for giving him John B. Sometimes the bills got buried on the kitchen table so even if Dad did have money left over from the pill bottles he regularly found emptily laying around, it didn’t keep the lights on or the water running or food in the cabinets. And most kids at school talked about wanting to be doctors and engineers and teachers and he was pretty sure aspirations that big didn’t belong in a discussion of his future, let alone considered. 

The list – which he dedicated more energy than most would think he even had to ignoring – went on but as he searches Kiara’s face, shamelessly stumbling over his thoughts from how close she seemed, in every meaning of the word, an old problem arises. 

She didn’t care about the list. 

Dad constantly added to it, John B laid it beside his like he was comparing notes in class and said ‘same boat, bro’, Pope looked at it in probabilities – probability of making it to ninth grade based on how many days he skips, or if he’ll retire at a decent age if he stays on the island his whole life, or the odds of making it pro if he puts in enough hours of practice on the water, even though he’s told him numerous times he’s better than all of them combined. 

But Kiara? The list was forgotten not long after she met him, merely glanced at and tossed to the side like a ‘handle with care’ sticker on something you already planned on treating with a gentle hold. 

The thought was a bit daunting as he unconsciously glosses over it. The list was there for a reason, right? Should be taken into heavy consideration before saying shit like that. 

Maybe he should let it go, though, since the amount of times where just seeing her smile made things easier was something he’s lost track of. 

Wouldn’t wanna be poor, neglected, misguided and a hypocrite. 

He couldn’t imagine having that effect on someone, let alone that someone being Kiara, of all people, yet here he was. Still scrambling for something to say as his eyes catch her lips, the light from the lampposts casting just enough glow to make out the silhouette. 

And…and it wasn’t just him. She’s doing it too, taking him in in that same way. This was Kiara, a small yet very distracted part of his brain advises, he couldn’t. They couldn’t, it’s not gonna happen– 

Their faces were only a breath apart now and that only happened when she was whispering something in his ear, something that would usually leave them rolling with laughter five minutes later. 

This wasn’t that. It wasn’t. But before he knows it the word invincible tries to answer it all, reminding him how they got stupid when they were spiteful. He’d be the first to admit it and she’d be the last but that’s what this was, feeling too invincible to think things through quite right. They proved their friends wrong and went behind her parents backs – he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel pretty damn proud about that. But spite and pride were both swallowed by the time he finally feels the curly hair around her face suddenly brush his cheek. 

“J, I, uh–” she mumbles as the space between them swells, her eyes searching anywhere but up. “Oh my God, we–I don’t think we should–yeah, sorry, umm…”

What the fuck?

What the fuck?

He pulls back from the now empty space they just shared less than ten seconds ago, watching her as if that would help him catch up. He could no longer see her small star and moon earrings as she turned her body away from him, glancing off somewhere by the street. 

He swallows, feeling something weird in his chest when she lets out a strained disbelieving sigh. Suddenly he shared in the appeal of searching the wood chips. 

“Yeah,” he says, trying to fill the quiet space, to disguise the mess the mysterious sting left behind. “Yeah, uh,” he chuckles. Where the fuck was his vocabulary?

“I just mean…this summer was supposed to be all of us just being together and shit, ya know? ‘Cause…I dunno, we don’t know what could happen.” She’s not smiling anymore, instead the sad distracted expression takes over and suddenly he can’t watch her anymore. 

“I just wish they would be their oblivious and care free selves a little longer.” 

“We are together, Kie,” he reassures honestly, though it felt wrong to say just then, making him rub his neck and dig his boot into the wood chips.

Kiara finally looks over to him, not quite earning his eyes yet. “I mean, like, together as in doing stuff without worrying about the consequences, like we always do. Like…like we used to.” 

JJ clears his throat. “I mean that’s kinda your thing, Kie. Lookin’ out for us and worrying about the consequences–“

“JJ–”

Frowning at the ground, JJ shakes his head, suddenly growing impatient. “I have a feeling I’m not following.” 

“What if…” she starts, glancing down at her ink stained hands. “What if one of us wasn’t around in the fall? Like the last time we all have together is now…” 

He looks at her then, noticing her fidget with one of her bracelets. 

“We should be making the most of it, right?”

“One of us?” JJ repeats, feeling the exact opposite of invincible now. Every time he thinks he’s done with feeling left in the dark, left behind on things shared amongst the Pogues, his confidence gets ripped away by another secret. 

The day John B brought a girl into their trio, for starters, right behind his back. Then there was when he found out why John B would always pick the most spacious and obvious – most lame – hiding spot when they were teamed together in a game of hide and seek, when he walked home and didn’t come back for almost four days. Something about how he clearly didn’t like small spaces from 'that one time on the field trip to the caves'. Even after he denied it they didn’t believe him, like they were all in on it, giving him that much more reason to be by himself that weekend. Dad taught him how to change the oil filter on the truck then so maybe it wasn’t all bad, even though it still left him bitter towards hide and seek for a while. 

Then there were all the times they canceled surfing just to get him to study with them, saying shit like he wouldn’t’ve passed his classes if it wasn’t for his love for the water. And the time where Kiara and John B locked him and Pope in Mr. Heyward’s shed because apparently fighting for a week straight over which baseball team was better was ‘immature’ and ‘annoying as fuck’ to listen to. 

And now there was something else he didn’t know about? Had John B and Pope known about it already? Had Pope finally gotten into that school on the mainland his mom had been trying to get him into since sixth grade? Was he dropping out of school completely to be homeschooled? That wouldn’t mean he wasn’t gonna be around, JJ rationalized, quickly trying to put the pieces together. For half a second he wonders if John B is moving again, causing a wave of panic to seep in before he takes that off the table, too. He would be the first to know if JB was moving because the kid couldn’t keep his mouth shut around JJ.  He told him quite literally everything; weird dreams, favorite movies, which kind of boat he’d wanna be stranded on if the choice ever presented itself, why he and his dad fought sometimes and how he thinks his uncle Teddy has a drinking problem. He even asked JJ if he would wait in the hospital with him while Big John got his appendix removed, even though he knew how much hospitals freaked him out. 

If Kiara senses his irritation she doesn’t let it show just yet, just braces herself by gripping the railing beside the steps, shaking her head. 

“Kie?” he presses, not hiding his impatience in the slightest. “The hell’re you talkin’ about?”

Finally she gives him a look. “Dude, calm down.” 

“What? It’s like you’re avoiding something, just tell me. Are you thinkin’ of moving to greener pastures or some shit? Or like,” he rambles, slowly realizing the almost-kiss – or whatever the fuck it was – was not going to be his biggest problem tonight. “Is this some hypothetical situation you’re torturing yourself over? ‘Cause you know I like hypotheticals but that one seems a bit excessive. I mean, last I checked, none of us were leaving–” 

“It’s not hypothetical, JJ.” 

JJ suddenly becomes torn between pressing on or just getting up and leaving. Walking away and pretending like none of it happened was starting to sound awfully nice but he knew better, knew it was Kie and that she would do anything but forget. He couldn’t just easily shake things off with her like he did with John B or Pope. Couldn’t storm off for twelve hours in hopes alcohol or pills would shove the most recent fight under the figurative rug like he did with his dad. 

This was like, a big deal. 

‘Least it felt like it because she wasn’t all that great with communicating either, evident from jumping from almost kissing him to telling him she was leaving all in the same breath. 

Kiara’s voice comes out even and quiet, like some heavy secret was finally testing the air outside of her lungs. 

“I found a pamphlet on our kitchen table for that academy some of the upperclassmen ended up going to last year.” Kiara looks off somewhere by the road again, biting her lips nervously. “I thought it was just junk mail at first but when I showed it to my mom, I sorta knew it then.” 

For some reason, JJ’s skin itched. From what, he wasn’t too sure. Maybe it was from the way that car was slowly driving down the street, making him feel like he had to say something when talking was the last thing he wanted to do. Or how he knew exactly what place she was talking about, the same place they all spent nearly three hours dragging and claiming if any of them ever ended up there they would immediately disown them. Maybe it was from the fact she had lied to him, and that all the times he tried to convince himself she hadn’t made him feel gullible as hell.  

“That was weeks ago,” he says, glancing down at her hands she was currently studying, one of them having the ‘478’ written in blue ink. 

“Huh?” 

“At school, you lied and said they weren’t serious about it–”

“I didn’t lie about anything,” she says weakly, like she knew she was guilty. 

“Then you have a pretty weird way of telling the truth. I mean, JB and Pope probably already know, don’t they–”

She turns to him, giving an incredulous look, voice finally rising. “What?”

He shakes his head like it was no big deal. 

Kiara tries to catch his eyes, a genuinely confused expression seizing her features. “Why the hell would I tell them and not you?”

“‘Cause it’s what you always do!” 

“No, it’s not!”

“Yeah! It is!”

His mouth was gonna slip up the way it stubbornly does sometimes, he knows, where in the moment all he sees is distortion and that special tense before the storm and the only way to make it stop is to talk. When everyone starts packing up their coolers and gathering their poles, tying their rocking boats to the docks as the wind picks up and the humidity skyrockets. 

It was the barometric pressure, he remembers Big John telling him one day before a particularly bad storm. Pressure drops, air rises, “kind of like a vacuum”. JJ always liked how he could predict the severity just from the feel of the air, knowing the quicker and lower drops meant the faster the storm was coming, almost like a warning. And he didn’t understand a whole lot when it came to sciency shit but he understood the atmosphere because it made sense. Just like the clouds turning angry and scudding across the gray sky with urgency meant to take shelter and check if the window is boarded up from last time, he knew that loud music and slurred speech meant that the hit was gonna be heavier, was gonna land a little harder and bruise a little longer.

But just like how the ‘beach is closed’ sign was only ever a suggestion as he stood in the wet sand with his board under his arm and rain pelting his back, the empty bottles strewn across the counters didn’t stop him from running his mouth nearly as much as they should’ve. 

The crease between her brows, the way her voice was shaking in that way he knew too well, the look she was giving him…none of it registered enough to stop him from saying the first thing that came to mind, even though he knew where it’d land them. 

That was his problem – always has been. He sees the warnings, but actually listening to them? Thinking shit through? Maybe someone should’ve taught him better. Or at all, for that matter. 

“You know you’re gonna like it, I bet.” He shrugs, trying to loosen the growing pressure in his chest. Pressure drops, air rises, kind of like a vacuum. “At first you might not even realize it but soon you won’t be turning your nose up at their nicer boats or houses or paychecks anymore because it’s all just better. And easier–”

Kiara scoffs, a choked sounding attempt at swallowing something sour, leaving a bitter taste in the throat. It pricks at his skin. “You’re not being serious–” 

“I think I am.” 

“JJ, that is so not fair--”

“You’ll get bored and you’ll ditch, dude. You’ll jump ship from the Pogue life because it’s fucking hard, ya know? Not so pretty to look at–”

“Oh my God, just stop. Just–I’m not doing this all over again.” Kiara lets out a quick sigh, likely reliving the same days he was, just then. 

They’re back on the beach the first day he met her, where everything was so good before he realized she wasn’t like him at all, at least not at first. When her dad practically told her to not even look his way, to the point where it stung more than it usually did, when people looked down on him like that. Like he was better off being ignored, born with a type of worthlessness you wouldn’t grow out of no matter how many times you pretended you could. 

That day Kiara made him feel like he could grow out of it, for once, like a Carrera could befriend a Maybank without the invisible rules being broken. That was before her dad told her who he was and it was all washed away, leaving that familiar aftertaste of what it was like living at the bottom, where the space you took up was a waste regardless of the part you played with the top.

He knew she hated it when he brought it up, even as a joke. Now, it stuck just a little longer, leaving both of them so far from the giddiness they felt less than an hour ago. 

 “You know, maybe I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to start acting different, like you’re doing right now–” 

“Well what were you planning, Kie? Just pretend everything’s normal when the first day of school rolls around and you’re off playing Kook with a bunch of rich assholes, counting down the days to where you can cut us off for good–”

“It wasn’t some big secret I was keeping! Okay? I don’t really hide shit from you,” Kiara mumbles the last part, making him duck his head. 

“It’s fine, Kie, I get it–”

“No, it’s not fine, JJ, what the fuck?” 

JJ’s already moving so much – fidgeting and squirming under the tension – it’s easy to hide the flinch that shoots through his body at the sound of a shout by the road, a scarily pissed off sounding shout that makes both of them freeze. 

He squints past Kiara’s shoulder, vaguely making out the face just as he’s slamming the pickup truck's door, not hesitating to make his way over to them under the dim streetlamps.

“Kiara, where the hell’ve you been all night?” Mr. Carrera’s voice echoes through the night air, causing both of them to shoot up from the slides in less than two seconds. “You have any idea what time it is? How badly you’ve worried your mama with not answering your damn phone?” 

Kiara mutters something JJ’s glad Mr. Carrera doesn’t hear as she tugs the hoodie loose from her waist, quickly throwing it on in an attempt to hide the bandage. 

“Dad, I’m sorry, okay? My phone was low and–” 

“Hell no,” Mr. Carrera interrupts, finally close enough to where JJ can properly make out his face, which doesn’t do much for his fidgeting. “Not that again, I sure as hell hope you got somethin’ better than that–”

Mr. Carrera’s eyes land on JJ then, all hard and mean and for a moment, JJ just stares back, remembering what his dad said about eye contact as he shoves his hands deeper into his pockets. He quickly clears his throat.

“It was my fault, Mr. Carrera. I asked if she could…” his voice trails off for half a second as he feels Kiara looking at him, as the night's events flash through his head. “If she could come out, I forgot she has a curfew–”

Mr. Carrera looks bewildered, shaking his head confused.

“So she can’t make decisions on her own?” he asks, making Kiara roll her eyes, a tired look crossing her face. 

“Dad, stop–” 

JJ sputters. “Uh, no, I didn’t mean–” 

“No, it takes both of you to make a stupid ass decision like staying out at night on the opposite side of town, the wrong side of the cut–” 

“Dad!” Kiara cries. 

Mr. Carrera cuts her off with a finger in her face. “You listen to me, K. You will not stay out here past dark again, you understand? I don’t care who you’re with or what you’re doin’, there’s no excuse to be out right now.”  

“Oh! But it’s okay to stay out when it’s on Eight? You know the cameras don’t do shit against drug dealers–” 

“Kie,” JJ warns, knowing deep down she recognized the difference. It wasn’t so much of being out of touch as it was just trying to prove a point – he’s seen her do it plenty of times. When it starts out as this blissfully ignorant girl trying to fight against things she’s never had to witness, only for it to turn into her knowing the exact privileges surrounding those who knew money, the statistics that rule some lives to a T. It still worried him, though, how quick she was to point out the uglier parts of the world. 

“Go wait in the truck,” Mr. Carrera tells her, leaving no room for debate, even though it was Kiara, which by default meant there always was. 

“I’m serious! You think just because you start paying for my schooling that it’s gonna stop kids from dealing? You think they’re so different!”

“K, now.” 

JJ bites down hard on his cheek just as she obediently starts walking towards the truck, loudly yanking the door shut behind her. The sound echoes through the quiet playground, making him painfully aware of what was coming. He doesn’t even realize he’s holding his breath until he hears Mr. Carrera give a long sigh, pulling his attention away from the ground and back up at him. 

He swallows, feeling John B’s skate tool dig into his palm as he squeezes it inside his pocket. He doesn’t remember when he swiped it, maybe sometime after his friend finally got around to properly tightening his wheels and not just fidgeting with the tools while he and Kie fought. 

“I, uh, didn’t really mean to get her in trouble, Mr. Carrera, I just wasn’t thinkin’. I know it was stupid, having her out here…” he stops when Mr. Carrera starts shaking his head, looking disgusted. 

He waits for the bitter rebuke, anticipates the stay the hell away from her, sees it a mile away and always has. Instead, though, it’s something that makes him chuckle. 

“She’s not the only one who shouldn’t be out here, JJ. It’s dangerous.” 

JJ fights to turn the laugh into a cough, pretending it was an accident. Mr. Carrera gives him another look. 

“The hell’s so funny? Your old man don’t want you home right now? Ain’t he worried?” 

“Uh, nah.” JJ pulls a hand out of his pocket, searching the ground again as he scratches his neck, trying to remember the last time someone asked him that. He shakes his head and gives another weak laugh. “No, he’s not really the curfew type. He ain’t worried ‘bout me right now, sir.” 

“That’s what you might think but you’re not the parent, are you? You just think it’s okay to run around the streets all night, not givin’ a shit ‘cause you’re some crazy kid that the rules can’t touch? I remember, your dad was the same way, when he was a kid.”  

JJ keeps the grimace minimal, looking up at him. 

Mr. Carrera glances back at the truck before going on, a little less angry, making JJ think he’s imagining things. “I was like you, you know that? Lived on the cut and didn’t always like my old man makin’ decisions for me. Everything looks different when you’re a kid but you don’t realize it yet, just think everyone’s out to get you.” The man peers around the playground, rubbing his chin bitterly as if reliving those days. “I tried runnin’ away, too. Thought, why not? There ain’t nothin’ good for me here so why stay?” 

JJ suddenly thought about all of the times he and John B had talked about it, about running away together and not looking back no matter what. The sentiment occupied them for hours, whether it be the scattered offhand comments the other would instantly understand, or the hour-long conversations when it was just the two of them. It always soothed that part of him that feared this was all he was gonna get; bad grades, adults that didn’t care or help, the occasional afternoon that left him buzzing with happiness when it consisted of the three people that mattered the most. 

That was the only good thing for him here, his Pogues. For a moment he wonders if Mr. Carrera ever had anyone like that. 

“Did you?” he asks in a hesitant voice, watching as a hard expression passes over the man’s face. “Ever run away?” 

Mr. Carrera doesn’t answer right away, as if contemplating the best way to word it, gauging what’ll scare JJ the most. 

“Runnin’ don’t do you any good, JJ. Sometimes just thinkin’ about it makes you stupid, makes you start taking things for granted and acting in selfish ways.” 

JJ didn’t know what selfish meant to people like Mr. Carrera, people who made more money and lived by different rules. Something about the way he said it, though, made JJ pause. For a moment he forgets he’s standing in the old playground in the middle of getting chewed out by an adult he had no reason to listen to, for being a stupid kid and getting caught with Kie, probably a few other things he’s not picking up on. For even less, he catches himself listening, actually listening. 

“You don’t wanna run from somewhere that has people who care about you, JJ, that’s not so easy to find again–” 

JJ can’t help but scoff. “Like who? Kie?”

Why he says this, he could only guess, all he knows is that whatever humor he finds in it falls flat, earning him a strange look that he’s not quite sure about. It wasn’t the over-the-shoulder glance he got that day on the beach, the one filled with so much certainty that he was all the things that were bad, it was more…protective? 

If he wasn’t imagining things before, he definitely was now. 

Mr. Carrera flinches. “Oh, I know that’s a joke,” he says, in the least amused voice JJ’s ever heard. “Which tells me you get it. Kiara’s one of those people, whether I like it or not. You know her mama likes it even less?” 

JJ lets his eyes fall, tries to ignore the way his brain tells him how wrong it is, that he should keep them up instead. He purses his lips, stiffly nodding, feeling something warm and sticky between his palm and the skate tool. 

“Thing is she don’t have to know you’re the reason her baby girl was out on the cut in the middle of the night, Lord knows it’ll just upset her even more than she is now.” 

“I won’t–I mean I’ll make sure she’s home, next time, sir. I uh, won’t bring her along–”

“Oh, I know you won’t, if you know what’s good for you,” Mr Carrera interrupts. “Look, why don’t you promise me somethin’? Hm? You stay outta trouble and I’ll be less tempted to tell K’s mama it was you who had her out. And I mean keepin’ your head down real good, stayin’ out of the shit a lot of the people are into around here, maybe even trying a little harder in school. It don’t feel like it now but it’ll pay off someday, even if it’s just keeping you busy while other kids are off livin’ in that stupid place I told you about.” 

JJ swallows, finding it hard to nod all of a sudden, like his neck is locked up from the tension. He can’t even bring himself to talk, for the longest five seconds of his life, being watched like this. 

He hated everything about it while wondering if most parents were like this. 

“Why do you care?” he finally asks, hoping it doesn’t come across in a way that’ll somehow break whatever agreement they were about to make. 

If JJ wasn’t watching he would’ve missed it, that strange protective look. It’s gone in less than three seconds, completely hidden when Mr. Carrera turns to the side. 

“You still wanna see Kiara, right?” 

He spares a glance at the truck, not being able to see Kiara’s face through the dim windows. Mr. Carrera must take it as a yes, gesturing somewhere off the playground. 

“Get on home, JJ,” he says, “and if you decide to pull anymore of this shit then you stay away from her, you got that?” 

“Yes, sir.”

JJ watches him stalk back to the truck and can’t help but flinch at the sound of the door shutting, sending him in a mix of a walk and a stumble to make up for being still for so long. He digs the heel of his hand against his chest, kicking the dirty wood chips aside while trying to shake off everything having to do with the last hour, unconsciously picking the road to the Chateau instead of home. 

Emotions didn’t get him hit this time, though what lingered now felt nowhere near preferable. 

– 

“It’s gonna rain tonight, you feel that?” 

Yeah, the air was heavy as fuck. Or maybe it wasn’t just the humidity, maybe it’s been like that since last night when– 

Since last night. 

“You feel it, right JB?” he asks again, not really remembering asking the first time. 

JJ doesn’t even really need to look over at his friend to feel the eye roll though so he keeps his gaze trained on the logs currently burning away, smirking even though it hurts more than he cares to admit. 

“You serious?” John B asks, in a tone that made JJ smirk harder because shit, if anyone knew if JJ was or wasn’t being serious it was John B, so screw him and his pointless questions and screw the pain in his cheek and screw the fact that he’s probably a mix of both serious and completely lying so he’s gonna smile about it.  

The sound of it is passive and defensive at the same time, almost getting drowned out by the crashing waves not six feet away and the shitty bass spilling from the speakers further down the beach. “That’s it?” John B goes on, “just gonna laugh and brush over it again–” 

“Yeah,” JJ slurs out, bringing the solo cup up to his throbbing face in a disconnected movement only to realize it was empty. Shit. “You don’t feel that? Muggy as fuck, dude, and you’re tellin’ me you don’t–” he cuts himself off, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “It’s in the air, bro.” 

Why couldn’t he just look out at the water and agree? Maybe revel in the way that you could literally taste it coming rather than how fucking hard Luke hit and how little care JJ put into hiding it this morning. Look out at the clouds passing over the moon and nod and just focus on that, rather than how Luke had exercised his right jab real good this time.

John B evidently gives up, instead peers down into his own cup before trying a different angle. “You know, it’s been a while since you sorta lost your shit like that–” 

JJ’s breath stutters, carrying that familiar struggle to fully expand his lungs. “Been a while since it rained–” 

“I’m starting to feel like you actually like getting the shit beat outta you–” 

“Fuck you, John B.”

JJ would never take a swing at John B, he promised himself. At least not a real one and not on purpose. He knows he doesn’t have to, just needs to say the right thing in the exact right way and John B just gets it. 

He’s lucky too, or else they’d be in the sand two seconds flat, with JJ practicing some of the moves he learned last night. 

Then again, it suddenly felt like a promise that only held true when he was sober because right now he was far from it and that special restless, tactless energy he’s sure ran through his dad’s hands last night was humming straight through his now. 

His fingers twitch at the thought. 

JJ clenches his aching jaw as he continues to chew his gum, blinking the fire back into focus. Things were starting to blur, which meant getting that much closer to that precious haze he’s been craving ever since slipping through the back door last night and getting reminded why he should try extra hard not to pick from his dad’s wallet, of all the wallets in his life 

Worst part is he wouldn’t be surprised if the reminder didn’t stick, even though the physical remnant felt like a permanent part of his face now. He of all people knew that’s not how it worked – that all tissues healed eventually and all bruises and aches fade, even if it felt like they were there to stay. 

Like now, when even though he had to move the muscles freely to show how fucking fine he was, it’s easily one of the last things he wanted to do, the first being somewhere between getting plastered and maybe finding an ice pack, if he didn’t become numb or black out beforehand. 

He mindlessly checks his cup again, disappointed at seeing it hadn’t magically refilled itself. 

As if reading his mind, John B hands his cup over, watching with a curious and far too sober expression as JJ downs half of it. 

He swallows hard, giving a weak scoff as the drink further muddles his thoughts. He barely debates sobering up enough to hide the grimace as he reaches for his side, remembering that steel-toed boots made it twice as long until he could get a full breath in. 

“He’s on these new pills,” he mumbles, glancing over at John B even though he couldn’t gauge his reaction if he wanted to. 

Wasn’t so horrible admitting these kinds of things to him though, he realized, knowing his guard was inevitably bound to come down early anyway. John B’s had that effect longer than anyone else. 

“It was m’fault, y’know,” he admits, voice already hoarse and unsteady from the alcohol. And maybe some other things but fuck, this drink was really working. ‘Like, I shouldn't've–have pushed him, like, I shoulda just–” he vaguely gestures with the now-empty cup, looking over at John B again. 

John B finally – finally – peers out at the ocean, thank fuck because really even one set of eyes on him right now was too much. 

Too much like how the air was too muggy and John B was too close to asking too many questions this time and everything just sorta hurt too much. Like how Kiara was too much of a stranger now and spent too much time avoiding him as he tried too hard to pretend like Mr. Carrera’s wish for him to stay out of trouble was just too unrealistic. That kind of too much. 

“J, you with me?” John B’s voice breaks JJ out of his cloudy yet overplayed thoughts, causing him to nod absently. 

“Did you hear what I just said?”

JJ tries to lie and nod again but his shoulders betray him in a mix of a shrug and some other uncoordinated movement that sends a dull throb of pain up his arm, making him try to remember when he hurt it. Maybe it was from the kid who had him pinned in the sand not half an hour ago. 

“I’m tryna instill some wisdom into you, man,” John B whines dejectedly. “Least you can do is pretend to listen.” 

“M’listen’n. Gimme your wisdom, bro.” 

“Well now I’m on the spot, it’s not gonna be as alarmingly impactful this time.” 

“If it was so impart–im–mpactful then shouldn’t I’ve–I like, woulda heard it, ya know?” 

“S’not my fault you’re drunk as a freaking skunk, dude.” 

JJ laughs at that. Like throw your head back and feel the ache in your stomach laugh and it feels, like, really good for a second. “I am so drunk,” he confirms through a giggle. 

John B laughs with him, leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees as he bows his head. For a moment it’s easy, JJ thinks. It’s easy and it’s not so awful and it’s like he can live with these really bad days, where he wasn’t sure where he would be sleeping that night and if Dad would bounce back from the bottle of pills he couldn’t remember the name of the and the alcohol he couldn’t forget the smell of. 

Then John B makes it less easy. 

“It’s not your fault, JJ,” John B just says out of the blue, making that good ache turn into the bad one. 

JJ doesn’t look at him, searching the dark sand for the most convincing words, preferably ones like ‘I don’t wanna fucking talk about whose fault it is, John B.’ 

“This the SparksNotes version of your wisdom?” he asks instead, his fingers starting to tingle again. 

“I hope,” John B answers, back to using that casually nonchalant drawl that JJ’s grown a need for in moments that became unbearably centered around him, where it was anything but nonchalant. “Those are supposedly easier to remember than the actual thing, right?” 

“‘S’pposedly.” 

“Then yeah.” John B turns towards JJ, slinging an arm on his slouched shoulders while tapping his chest with an open hand. “Here’s the short and sweet version of my telling you that it’s barely ever your fault when your dad gets pissed–” 

“John B–” 

“And if you ever decide to get into a fight without backup again, I’m gonna kick your ass, dude.” 

JJ tiredly scoffs, raising a heavy arm towards the party taking up the rest of the beach. “Oh that? That little thing? Nah, John B, that was, like, a friggin’ scuffle, it was nothin’--” 

“Never would’ve happened if you just told me you felt bad again–”

JJ scrunches his nose. “Was’ that supposed to mean?” 

“I’m sayin’ the dude almost broke your arm literally just ‘cause you were losing your shit over your dad. Like, you just get in these fucking moods, dude–” 

JJ shoves John B off, almost losing his balance on the log they were sitting on. He’s about to tell him about the rain again, because rain was just easier to talk about, before two more voices reach them. Then he wants to run into the ocean all over again, storm brewing or not. 

“There you guys are!” Pope calls out, in a voice too high-strung with worry, it makes JJ nauseous.

Kiara jogs up right behind him, giving both of them a winded look of disapproval, gesturing with her sand coated flip flops. “We were looking all over for you.” 

“Yeah, some guys were talking about a fight down the beach and nine times out of ten that’s usually a pretty decent indication on where you two are,” Pope goes on, readjusting his hat as he doubles over to catch his breath. John B snatches it from his head. 

“Meh, nines a little high,” John B says doubtfully. 

“Nines not high, both of you are bleeding like, all the time,” Kiara insists, lowering herself into the sand in front of JJ. “You’re literally bleeding right now!”

“To be fair,” John B offers, “JJ started it this time, thinking he could take on three drunk idiots when he too was a drunk idiot himself. Just classic JJ things, ya know.” 

“Jesus,” Kiara says, glancing at John B before fixing her eyes on JJ and leaning forward to get a better look at him and he kinda hates her for it, just then. Hates all of them, maybe, for being too fucking much. 

“Are you okay, though?” she asks, making JJ finally sit up straighter, still avoiding her gaze. He turns to John B, shoving his solo cup towards his friend's arm. 

“You wanna go get more beer?” 

John B takes the cup but doesn’t make any other effort to move, glancing between him and Kiara. It kind of annoys JJ a lot. 

JJ pats his back encouragingly. “C’mon, mi amigo, keg’s not just gonna wait for us–” 

“JJ,” Kiara tries again, acting as though everything in the world was okay. “I’m serious–” 

“Sure you are,” JJ mumbles, not missing the way everyone’s eyes are on him once again. He gives another laugh on instinct. “Just avoid me for two weeks and then pretend to give a shit for your pity case–” 

“Really?” Kiara sputters. “Last I checked it was you avoiding me, but okay–” 

“Yeah, well maybe you’re too busy gettin’ ready to ditch to notice–” 

“Woah, guys,” John B starts, that same unbothered sound to his voice precariously swaying towards concern. Both Kiara and JJ ignore it, finally face to face to pick up on what was left compulsively ignored 

“Ya know, clock’s a tickin’, Kie, better get a move on those goodbyes you never planned on giving out–” 

“Wait, what?” 

“The fuck?” 

“Would you stop?” Kiara snaps. 

“Yeah, guys,” JJ insists, “Kie’s leavin’ us to join the neighboring moneybag douches, with the green ass lawns and the white fences and the 401(k)’s.” 

“You don’t even know what a 401(k) is,” Kiara says smoothly, as if to have some control over the nosedive this conversation was taking.

JJ did not know what a 401(k) was, just that it sounded pretty fucking Kooky. 

“Wait, what’s up?” John B asks.

“Yeah, can you guys please explain using non hostile words–” 

JJ shrugs. “Why should I have to explain? She’s the one who didn’t wanna tell in the first place.”

“What the hell,” Kiara pronounces, “is your problem?” 

“Me? I have no problems, I’m completely problem free, actually–” 

“Yeah, well you’re gonna have to be way more convincing about that, just so you know–” 

“Sorry I’m not convincing enough for you, that’s really too bad–” 

“And don’t call yourself a pity case, God–”

“Oh, you mean that’s not why you tried to kiss me?” 

“YOU KISSED KIE?” John B all but shouts at the same time Pope yells “YOU KISSED JJ?” 

“Dude, shut up! Can you guys, just–” Kiara drops her flip flops and shrugs her backpack off, telling Pope and John B something JJ doesn’t really care to hear, already checking out and looking out at the water. 

Sometimes he forgot to listen and sometimes he chose not to, it’s just how it’s always been. This time he couldn’t tell which was causing him to tune out the Pogues, can’t recall when he slid down so he’s no longer on the log but in the sand, sitting beside…

Right next to Kiara. 

When the fuck did she– 

“Okay, first of all, you’re wasted,” she says as a matter of fact. “And I’m not having this conversation with you until you drink this, so here.” 

She pulls a bottle of water from her backpack, handing it to him with an impatient hand. He takes a deep breath and regrets it instantly, forgetting that he really couldn’t, just yet. 

“It ever occur to you that maybe I wanna be wasted?” 

“Don’t say that, JJ,” she lightly scolds, watching as he takes the bottle anyway. “You’re like, way too young to have drinking problems.” 

“I thought that’s what problems did, they just kinda stacked up without your permission.” He takes a few slow drinks, at first, surprised at how nice it feels. It’s cold, because it’s in an aluminum bottle, because obviously plastic was out of the question. 

“They do,” Kiara says, glancing over at him before focusing on tugging on one of her bracelets. “But alcohol should still be fun at your age, not a problem. And that’s not some…classist privilege shit, either, I would say that to anyone, just so you don’t throw it in my face later on.” 

JJ just barely swallows before choking on a scoff. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yes.” 

“Thanks for clarifying.” 

She tilts her head like it was nothing. “I kinda had to, for the next time you decide to act like I think you’re the scum of the Earth because you live on the cut.” 

JJ guiltily holds the bottle to his lips as an excuse not to answer. Suddenly he felt regretfully sober for this. 

Kiara has to sense it, judging from the expression she pins him with, still crystal clear despite how dark it was. He can faintly make out her tattoo where it sat under the straps of her bikini and tank top, occasionally hiding behind her hair when the breeze wasn’t brushing it around. He chooses to focus on that rather than the look of disgust that passes over her face as she shakes her head, blinking sadly at the sand before twisting to face him better, moving the tattoo out of sight.

“Look, I don’t know what my dad told you that night–” 

“Sure it wasn’t what you said?” 

Kiara shoots him an impatient look. “I’m not talking about that yet, I’m saying whatever he said, if you listened then you’re an idiot.” 

JJ slumps further into the sand, letting the cool water bottle sit on his sore ribs as he gives a choked laugh. “So I’m not the scum of the Earth, just an idiot. Got it.” 

“I’m bein’ serious,'' Kiara counters defensively. “You always get so hung up on people's opinions, like…” she pauses, as if trying to sort out a plethora of built up words that were begging to be spilled, “you pretend that you don’t but sometimes you really do, JJ. And yeah, I kinda get it, everyone has an opinion and sometimes they’re assholes about it but those people? They just don’t matter, okay? They really don’t.” 

“Kie–” 

“No, I don’t care what my dad thinks or what he said and I hate that you let whatever it was get to you!” She holds his gaze, her soft brown eyes as honest and insistent as ever. “And just because you feel like you have to prove something, it doesn’t mean you have to do it with people who won’t change. You deserve more than that, okay?” 

The sound of the crashing waves takes over the moment, doing much better than JJ ever could, at filling the silence and reminding them that other things still had a place, even if it felt like just the two of them, then. 

“And I’m not sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, about the academy,” she breaks the silence, the one JJ was half drowning and half basking in at finally feeling okay to not fill it like his life depended on it. “It’s not gonna change anything, so.” 

He can’t help but shake his head, smirking at that familiar stubbornness that was truly going to be the death of both of them someday. “You can’t say that.”

“Why not?” 

“‘Cause you just can’t.” 

“Well, I just did.” 

“Yeah, but you don’t know, Kie.” He pushes himself up, feeling the damp bark scrape against his t-shirt. “You can’t say shit like you just know the future–” 

“I’m not–”

“People leave, that’s why,” he blurts out. “They quit and move on and don’t look back, sometimes without saying goodbye, sometimes without even meaning to. It just happens and you saying different isn’t gonna change shit, dude.” 

He waits for her to refute, because that sort of thing was inevitable with Kiara. It was always expected, after one of the boys made a pessimistic jab at life, for her to convince them otherwise because doom and gloom wasn’t really her style. 

Instead she takes the water bottle from him, taking a sip before setting it between them and hesitating, eyes flickering between him and the sand. 

“What if I promise it?” 

His eyes copy hers. “Huh?” 

“I won’t say it, I’ll promise it.” 

He lets out a breathy laugh as she turns towards her backpack, watching her unzip one of the front pockets to pull out a pen. 

“Well, then,” he starts, a smile tugging at the corner of his split lip. “It’s obviously foolproof.” 

“Obviously,” she replies, going from sincere to playful quicker than he would’ve deemed possible, not too long ago. She finishes whatever she was writing on the back of her hand and reaches for his. 

“Pogues for life, right?” she asks halfway through writing ‘P4L promise’ on the inside of his wrist, a copy of the one she had on her hand. It was in red ink this time, as opposed to the normal blue he’d gotten fondly used to seeing under his bracelets. 

“I think I just thought of what our first matching tattoo should be,” he decides once she’s pulled away, stuffing her pen back in her bag, dragging it up against the log so she has something to lean against. 

“Deal,” she says with a smile, “and I just thought of what our next rule should be.” 

“What’s that?” 

Kiara pulls her legs up as she slouches further down into the sand, averting her gaze out to the water and pauses, like she’s deciding how to word it. “No Pogue-on-Pogue macking.”

JJ tries to adjust himself against the log, squirming to get more comfortable since the alcohol was wearing off before giving up, laying half on his side as he reaches for her water bottle for another swig. The almost-kiss still brought all sorts of weird feelings up. 

“No Pogue-on-Pogue…” 

“No Pogue-on-Pogue macking,” she finishes, shrugging. 

“Like for real?” 

“Uh, yeah.” 

He chuckles in between drinks. “That’ll never stick.” 

She finally gives him a look. 

“What?” he asks innocently. “There’s no need for it, I mean. Like, I mean we all know JB has a crush on you, but he’d never actually act on it–” 

“That’s funny, I wasn’t even thinking about JB when I thought of it,” she tells him, shaking her head. 

“Really?” he asks, sounding bewildered. “Oh, has Pope been makin’ moves–”

“JJ,” she laughed, trying to put some semblance of seriousness in her voice. “I’m not kidding, it’s a rule and everyone’s gonna follow it, otherwise things will get too weird.” 

“No, yeah, right on,” he nods, finally feeling all the nights tension leave his body. “Deal.”

The sound of the ocean takes over once again, and JJ debates telling her about the storm, about how it’ll probably last all day tomorrow and knock out the power and cause enough damage to deem at least a week's worth of cleanup, but he doesn’t. He knows she sees it without it being talked about and for the first time that night his mind goes quiet, finally able to just watch the waves and not escape in them.