Chapter Text
The Pogues had formally disbanded a few years ago now, moving to their own independent lives, the memories of their senior summer still fuzzy and warm. It took time to forget that they didn't all live together anymore, that the Wreck wasn't a bike ride away anymore, and that they weren't all within a brief arms reach anymore.
Even scarier to admit was they were adults now, only in their early twenties. It was still weird to think they were legally old enough to buy alcohol from the variety they'd been frequenting since freshman year. They ended up all attending college. JJ and John B both chose an in state college, with the assistance of a certain Deputy Shoupe pulling some strings. Pope attended an out of state mortuary school, flourishing in his apprenticeship and sending his dad beaming smiles from different beaches along the coastline.
Kiara's reluctance to leave the state was a result of her gap year abroad. She chose a private college in California, enticed by the promise of artsy one room cafes serving lattes, a large expansive campus, and finally leaving the nest and escaping the suffocating grasp of her parents' ideologies and expectations. The actual move to college and the start of a new semester was ultimately fuelled by double-shot espressos over ice and angry 400-word mini-essays stating why college is a 'scam' and simply created to maintain capitalism in modern day society.
Her parents soon realized her environmental vigilante work wasn't going to cut it anymore. She soon came to her own realization that if she wanted to see real change, she needed credentials and respect, and that wasn't happening without a college degree, no matter how much she dreaded the thought of turning into a Rory Gilmore copycat.
She threw herself into her studies anyways, the nagging voice in the back of her mind reminding her of the sacrifices her parents had to make with the restaurant to even pay her tuition bill, let alone her housing costs. She was a bright student, mostly keeping to herself. Her strides in 'branching out' to make friends mostly consisted of orchestrating trips for the school's Habitat for Humanity and attending lectures on zero waste living.
She grew comfortably into the student image, going to football games, pulling all-nighters, and most commonly, dodging questions from nosy aunts about when she was 'planning to bring a boy home'.
Sure, she had dated sporadically during the school year, but there were no sparks, no connection. It didn't bother her that much, her parents didn't find each other until they were well into their late twenties. The success story here is that the Carrera's were still happily married and co-owning a business together. Less could be said about some of the other local families around the Cut or Figure Eight.
Her dad would still call occasionally even well into her sophomore year, remind Kie that the Wreck and her position there as administrative manager still stood as a 'safety net' if her so-called big dreams and expansive plans didn't work out in the way that she'd hope.
The calls were short but left a sour taste in her mouth. Kiara didn't want safe or comfortable, she wanted reckless and chaotic and unpredictable. She got a fair amount of pushback from her Mom specifically, for shedding her Kook exterior so early in life. She was much more conditioned towards early mornings chasing waves with JJ, than white-gloved brunches with her parent's business partners.
If ever asked, she would swear there was still a piece of her heart left in the now dilapidated remains of the Chateau as if her true soul was scattered among the front porch swing, and in between the floorboards of the spare bedroom, like her own personal Horcrux.
. . .
They didn't leave that last summer without forming some kind of communication with each other so the Pogues had a group chat. They affectionately named it ( dumb, dumber, dumbest + kie). The main purpose, to keep the four in contact with each other through the school years. It was used at the beginning to send memes, 'storytimes' from the time John B got his foot stuck in a pumpkin during 'Halloweekend', to the infamous trilogy of fall semester when Pope thought he had tuberculosis when it was just strep throat.
Over time, she noticed the notifications weren't as frequent, and the selfies came less and less. It didn't bother her too much, personally chalking it up to 'shit hitting the fan', and knowing that the first two years of college in a new state, were not a walk in the park. Even still, her heart ached for the familiarity, an almost yearning for the harmless banter she had with John B., the late-night talks and conspiracy theory discussions with Pope, and the words she had left unsaid with JJ.
It wasn't a secret anymore, the connection they had, the unspoken feelings that lingered in the air.
They both had admitted things in various states post-Boneyard bonfires, but they were opposite sides of the coin when it came to following through on what was said. JJ, ever the emotion-aversive, rather preferred to dodge her requests to talk and acted as if nothing happened. Kie, on the other hand, would have much rather had it discussed that summer, and then if the feelings weren't mutual, she would have had the easiest option of burying the conversation and moving on with her life.
Instead, she had to almost brace herself each time his socials would appear on her newsfeed, his bright grin paired with his shoulder slung around similarly tall blonde girls, pictures from his camping trip with John B for his birthday. After one too many lime vodka sodas out at a bar with floormates, she'd contemplated once texting him something more complex than "congrats on the internship! :)".
"i miss you" delete
"i wish you were here" delete
"i'm sorry if i made things weird between us" delete
"jj, i think i love you in something more than just a platonic way and it scares me because i've never felt like this towards anyone in my life before and i don't know if i'll ever be able say it"
definitely delete.
. . .
She ended up reconnecting with JJ and John B, at a frat party during spring break of her junior year of all things.
As weird as the circumstances were, it wasn't unwelcome. The salt air had filled her soul from the moment she stepped off the plane, and she knew she was home again. There were loud cheers and broken pieces of conversation muffled by music. She didn't hesitate to wrap her legs around JJ as he picked her up in a hug in the hallway of said frat house not caring who may have seen or what they may have thought. John B rustled her hair in an older-brother adjacent gesture that made her eyes water, and she wasn't someone who cried easily.
Over the next few hours spent at the party, she not so subtly noticed the tattoo in small block letters that sat just below his jawline as he nursed a Natty Light, trying her best at squinting, but still not being able to make out what it said.
She also took note to index in her mind, the way his teeth caught between his lower lip as he laughed at a stupid joke. For years the subsection of Kiara Carrera's thoughts labeled "JJ" had collected dust purposefully to protect her heart from any further wounding. Now instead of suppressing the flames of her true feelings towards JJ, it felt like she was fully engulfed in them, and the warmth was licking pathways through her veins.
Between games of flip cup and apologies for not calling sooner, the honest statements of regret and whispered confessions spilled out of her like the vodka that was poured into shot glasses. In what felt like a second, her hand was interlaced in his while they wove through the crowd of similar sweaty tipsy students. Then JJ’s hand was at the small of her back, and she could hear the bass behind her ribcage. They didn't speak, just lost themselves in the music, in the movement, how she seemed to fit against him, and how he moved his hands to rest at her hips.
As if her night couldn't get any more stranger, she kissed JJ on the back steps of the frat that night. Her hand carded through his sunkissed blonde, with a feverish intensity. A decision not filtered by her conscience, or usual sense of rationality.
The brain cell that was shared between the Pogues was most definitely not hers tonight. She was sure it was a mistake, fumbling over her words, but then he kissed her back. He whispered things into her neck she had only dreamed of hearing before. This couldn't have been her life at that moment. The line replayed itself through her mind as she watched JJ out of the corner of her eye, grabbing both her coat and his from the clothing line turned makeshift coat rack, she doesn't get the guy of her dreams, this easily, this trick has to turn sometime.
. . .
"Kie, it's like eleven.." JJ's rasp interrupts her thoughts, and she brings a hand over to the wrong side to blindly reach around for her phone, catching his bicep instead. "Ouch, you wound me, Carrera," and she hates how she can tell how he almost smiles when he talks without even seeing his face. With a small groan, she rubs the remainder of her glittery eye makeup and smudged black eyeliner off, letting her eyes adjust to the small amount of sunlight peeking through the blinds.
She realizes within a split second, she was actually in his bed. Of course, she was sober enough to recall the events of the previous night and how she ended up here in the first place. Disregarding that, it still felt strangely intimate to be in the aftermath after sleeping with someone she's understood since she was about nine.
She blinks a few times, settling further into the blankets. She takes in the mere sight of his clothes hanging off the footboard next to her purple lace bodysuit and jeans. There was a charging computer blinking steadily in the corner. Across from that, an off-brand collection of finance textbooks collecting dust, stacked near a still unpacked suitcase.
It was the week after spring break, and she chose not to take the trip back to her college, knowing it'd be all 'syllabus week' material anyways. The fact that his sheets were so much more comfier than hers definitely had nothing to do with her decision.
Then again, what conspired between said sheets the night before couldn't be considered what 'just friends' do.
"'S too early," she mumbles, shifting to sit up against the headboard, pulling the elastic off her wrist and gathering her flattened curls into a makeshift bun on the top of her head. She cranes her neck to truly and shamelessly, get a good look at him at this hour. She's not used to seeing JJ like this , sex hair, and all, but she definitely was not complaining.
"C'mon, I'll order breakfast, my treat." He nudges her from his side of the bed, but she still doesn't budge, snuggling further into the comforter.
Sure, they had both seen each other in various occurrences of dishevelment over the years, the Chateau was home to all activities of the night, to say the least. However, this was strange and new territory.
Early afternoon light streams in through the blinds and silhouettes his profile against the wall, while he cracks some smart remark about her staring like a creeper, and 'liking the view Kie?'.
Boldly, she leans over to press her lips against his shoulder blade, then to the crook of his neck, and to his lips for good measure, to shut his smart mouth up for once. She feels herself smile against the kiss, hearing him mumble something about her hair still smelling like the Malibu they drank the night before.
Really, what was the etiquette here? She didn't do this part either, it was odd, unfamiliar even, and the feeling of unease crept up her throat. Not having the time or the patience to sit in her anxieties with the looming hangover headache she had, she easily slips into a tshirt of his left discarded on the floor, listening to whatever alt rock song he'd decided to play through his speaker.
. . .
"What do you want to do with your life anyways JJ?" It was admittedly later, after showers and a last minute trip to the nearest bodega. Kie's earlier plan to go home to her parents’ place was quickly dissolved by the lure of JJ's carefully rolled joints pulled from a silver tin and delivery pizza.
They ate on the deck of the house he shared with John B, chatting quietly between bites of garlic bread and pepperoni slices.
Thankfully, according to JJ, John B. was at his girlfriend's for the week, doing some kind of wine tasting and tour with her parents up in some vineyard. This graciously protected Kie's already fragile ego from having to come up with makeshift explanations and embarrassment of running into him during her half-naked walks to the kitchen for water and food.
"God, you sound like you should be my mother Kie, I always thought Pope was the old wise one you go to for advice." She stretches her legs out to lightly kick him in the ribs for that answer, snorting laughter escaping the back of her throat.
"We're the same age you asshole , I didn't know that was such a touchy subject for you. It's still weird to think about, is it not? That we could all have completely different lives in five years? Not have any more summers like the ones we did on the island? That one of us could even be engaged or married "
His face scrunches at the married comment, sticking his finger in his mouth and pretending to gag. "I dunno, life is finite, is it not? We all have preset choices and destinies?"
She frowns softly, taking the still lit joint from his callused fingers, "Nah, I think we have some power in this development called life, even if we're miserable, we can change, do something crazy with our lives, something reckless."
"Something crazier then running off to Peru for half a year and not texting any of your friends, not telling them if you were alive or dead?"
"JJ," Her tone wavers, and the look on his face just about kills her, "It wasn't like that I swear if I knew I would-"
"Please enlighten me then, what did Peru have that the Outer Banks and we didn't? Yoga, fruit smoothies, and attractive dudes with mandala tattoos and long hair?"
"I.." She swallows thickly, willing her hands not to shake as she spoke "I had to get out okay? I was afraid if I didn't, I wouldn't ever leave, I'd be stuck there for the rest of my life, living up to my parents' expectations and the town's eyes judging my every move, from who I hooked up with to what I wore to a stupid party. God, JJ you don't understand what it's like you don't-"
"Try me, I'm going to school to be a fucking accountant on a scholarship I probably don't deserve, because all that I'm good at is numbers, and being an all-around terrible person as a close second."
"JJ, don't.. you're.." her tone immediately softens, and she fights the urge to take his hands in hers. She was toeing the boundary line between 'hookup' and 'girlfriend material' very cautiously. "That's not true, you could still be other things in this life," she pauses, "or the next, nothing's set in stone for you."
He rests his hands behind his head, blowing the smoke out in rings, a habit that was reminiscent of early mornings in the Chateau. Usually, after a rager, she would make french toast and BLTs for the three man-children (namely, JJ, John B., and Pope), who would crawl out of their rooms bleary-eyed, to the sound of her cooking.
"You and all your hippie fuckin' bullshit Kie I swear to God." He scoffs, but "Well then, I hope my next life is less-shitty then mine has been so far, maybe I'll win the reincarnation lottery and be born again as some Kook son with a brand new Lamborghini in the driveway when I do finally kick it,"
"Hey!" she chides, a frown taking over her soft smile. His words aren't necessarily mean-spirited but they still cause her concern. Since moving, she's bought into the West Coast claims of auras, crystals, and tea leaf readings, but didn't actively practice or anything like that. "Don't jinx yourself by saying that! Take it back, or knock on wood or something!"
Despite constant taunts from her friends, parents, and now JJ, she wouldn't abandon her quirks. The ironic thing is she knew or used to know JJ's superstitions like the back of her hand. The way that he always had to touch the top of the doorframe when crossing the threshold of the Chateau, how he'd ask her to make him a string braided anklet (but only in a specific pattern and with red, black and gold thread) and how she’d noticed his routine before a big day of surfing always stayed the same .
He makes a non-committal sound in response, as he takes another exhale, and knowing JJ for half her life, she knew not to push him further.
Nevertheless, when his back was turned, she still outstretched her arm to touch the white wooden beam of the side railing, rapping her knuckles against it quickly and quietly. "Doesn't getting old just suck? All these fuckin' responsibilities now?" He asks her, laughs under his breath.
"Shut the fuck up. One, I'm not old again, and two, I'm choosing not to think about the future, living for today and all that shit the Dalai Llama preached right?"
"Kie, sweetheart , I really do not think that's one of his most famous quotes, and even if it was, you butchered it ." He smirks, light coloured brows crinkling as he did so. "You really think we'll change that much in five years though?"
Her heart shouldn't be flopping into her throat at his words. How could a boy studying something as boring as finance and accounting have her speechless? She hangs her head off the arm of the chair, strands of unruly curls falling down and over her eyes as she spoke.
"A lot can happen in five years. So, here's a proposition courtesy of my brilliant mind," She pauses, more for dramatic effect than anything else. "If we don't know what we're doing with our lives in five years, and we want to change, we text each other. Just one word and we drop everything, and meet somewhere, and go from there, just the two of us."
"Shit, I didn't think the weed was that fuckin' strong Kie, and I know we're not one-hundred and ten percent sober but what are you-" He moves to get up out of the chair, scoffing under his breath.
She moves quickly upright at the sound, the sound of her flip flops clacking on the tile floor of the apartment trailing his long strides to the living room. "JJ, I swear I'm serious as anything. I'm not joking around here,"
If you had asked her to write down what her biggest fear was at her high-school graduation, she would have answered failure, but at twenty-two, it was now the overwhelming fear of being 'just average'. It was of becoming stagnant and fading into the background of statistical suburbia, RangeRovers, 2.3 children in school uniforms, and going for Sunday dinners at some overpriced seafood restaurant.
"Fine, I believe you, I do." He contemplates his next thought, if only a moment, "In five years, if either of us texts 'run', we drop everything and meet in Seattle," He answers with a huff, rooting around in the bar cart for something.
She wrinkles her nose, raising a brow, "I like the first half. Why Seattle?" She would have chosen somewhere more adventurous, but she knew even that was a little ambitious to ask of him.
"Dunno. Always wanted to go there, it was where my Mom spent her teenage years, probably why I liked Nirvana so much in high school." He succeeds in pulling a bottle of cheap tequila and a pair of mismatched shot glasses, setting them onto the kitchen island. He speaks again as he pours a generous splash into each, "And besides, the weed is legal there, so I won't have to worry about my ass going to jail if I buy us edibles." He sticks his tongue out at her, and she rolls her eyes in response
"It's not cause I chose Sleepless in Seattle for the movie night that one night in the Chateau?" She raises a quizzical brow again and dodges a mock-punch he tries to throw her way.
"I've told you a million times Kie, all your chick movies suck and have shitty soundtracks to boot, I'll die by my choices of Edgar Wright and Spielberg." His comment holds no harsh words, harmless in nature. She smiles as he extends one of the shot glasses to her first, willing herself not to think about how delicately his knuckles brushed against hers as he did so.
Clinically speaking, it was simply a bet or long term agreement between two childhood friends, nothing more, nothing less. It had to sound like that in her head, otherwise, her mind would take it and run.
"So are we spit shaking on this or what?"
"Ew. Don't be all gross Maybank, we're not children anymore , we can just normally shake hands , y'know, like normal people do? "
And so they did, cementing a promise by linking pinky fingers, slamming down the shots shortly after.
. . .
She stays one more night than originally planned, blindsided by his charms and a side of him she never knew. Like how he made his grilled cheeses with mayo, and that he sang the chorus to The Killers 'When you Were Young' under his breath when he washed his hair in the shower.
But she wasn't falling for him, she was positively adamant about that. She couldn't be all heart-eyed in rose-tinted sunglasses when she had a full year left in California and a midterm to write in a week. To prove it, ( mostly to only herself ) she booked her plane ticket to LAX, punching in her credit card number on her phone in the early hours while JJ snored softly beside her. The details of explaining the multiple charges on her card would have to be explained to her parents at a much later date.
"So that's it then? You're just leaving?" His voice almost spooks her as she's bent over, repacking her duffle bag. She was somewhat taken aback by his reaction, expecting to just be able to slip out of the house with her things, without even leaving a note.
"JJ, I can't just stay here, I booked a flight, I have a life back home, I have to write a test that I haven't even studied for yet, and I-"
He clears his throat, leaning against the armchair, "Yeah, I know, you're too good for us now, you've proven that."
"JJ, don't start being your stubborn-ass self, you of all people know where my home always will be. I don't want to fight, this doesn't mean anything, it was just a bad decision."
This wasn't supposed to be this hard, and she wasn't planning on crying, surely not over something as stupid as this. She drags her fingertips under her eyes, sighing softly. "I'll miss your stupid jokes though," She laughs quietly, "And the fact your alarm radio is somehow a metal channel,"
He defends his decision, tongue poking between his teeth as he grinned. "At least let me give you a ride to the airport?"
. . .
She doesn't protest when he reaches across the console of his truck to place his hand on her thigh, and she doesn't complain when he insists on helping her to the check-in counter (even if she was fully capable of doing it herself).
She adjusts the straps of her backpack, glancing at her phone once and then again to double-check the time. "This is my stop, I guess. Say hi to John B for me when he gets back, and tell him I'll text the groupchat with that margarita recipe."
"Mhm," He nods, "Safe flight then, okay? You can text me when you land or don't, it doesn't really matter to me either way."
"JJ," Kie smiles softly, reaching to cup the side of his face in her hand, placing a small kiss to his cheek. "I'll text you, and I'm expecting you to be good this semester now, no more pictures of you half bloodied in the school's drunk tank on your finsta okay?"
He pulls his lanyard of keys out of his pocket, looping them around his wrist. "I'll try , no promises here though, a full send can't be missed around these parts."
He turns to walk towards the elevators, and she just about goes the other way, until she hears his voice cut a sharp "Carrera!" through the crowds of families and tourists. She's about to tell him to shut up before he lifts his pinky finger towards her, almost yelling across the airport "If you don't hold me to this in five years, I'll just assume you've turned into a full Kook!"
She laughs, shaking her head, watching him disappear into the elevator, doors closing in front of him. His words still raced through her head when she reaches the gate, where would either of them be in five years? Thinking about the future seemed positively scary, frightening even. She couldn't even foretell what she would be doing next month, let alone a year.
However, one thing JJ knew the most about Kie out of all the years they'd spent together, was that she never broke a pinky promise in her life.