sweetstars

You swore you hadn’t developed a codependency on Drew and he swore the same. You’d always been the closest in the cast but it wasn’t…that. Yes, you spent free time together on set, visited each other's families, went on trips with friends and sometimes traveled just to see one another at work but that didn’t mean you were tethered, it surely didn’t mean the other half of your world existed only in the other’s orbit. 

Or at least, that’s what you both told yourselves…except it was a lie. 

There was an addictive gravity to the way he fit into your life, even after all this time, there was a pull that made ordinary moments feel like something you were unwilling to let go of. You let it intoxicate you, follow you everywhere like a shadow and curl around the corners of your day while whispering in your chest. You both laughed about it often, how it had crept up unnoticed and the way it snuck past your defenses until suddenly, it was impossible to imagine life without it.

Backstage, the roar of the crowd seeped through the walls of the room, humming in your ears and vibrating through your chest. Your hands tightened around the mic as you held it while taking a long sip of cold water to steady the fluttering anxiety and to calm the rush of adrenaline that always came before being in front of thousands. Even after years, even after bigger projects and brighter stages, this didn’t get easier.

The rest of the cast had already started up the stairs toward the stage but no one hurried you, no one pushed. They knew the storm that brewed in you when the private version of yourself had to dissolve into the public persona. Still, the pressure of expectation hovered and you knew you had to go.

As you closed the water bottle with a soft click and finally turned, you yelped, startled. Drew had been standing there, quietly watching, probably longer than you realized. Your first reflex was to lightly hit him, playfully of course, before dissolving into laughter, laughter he joined without hesitation.

“What is wrong with you?! You can’t just stand behind people like that!” you said, breathless from the sudden release.

Drew didn’t tell you that he’d called your name twice and you hadn’t heard him over the buzz. He understood exactly how these moments hit you, how the private self had to be swallowed whole and reshaped into the version the world expected to see.

Walking up the stairs behind Rudy, Drew slowed his pace just enough to let you feel his presence, a quiet tether to steady your nerves. By the time you hit the stage, the fear melted into a strange, liberating weightlessness, like the moment before a drop on a rollercoaster, the kind where your stomach dips and your chest lifts.

On stage, Chase talked while the others smiled at the crowd but your attention flickered between the signs waving, the fans calling your name and the steady presence of Drew just a few steps away. He leaned just slightly toward you, lips curving into a grin you could feel in your chest.

“So…movie and dinner after this?” he asked quietly, carrying that teasing but soft edge that always made your pulse skip.

You turned slowly to him, a grin spreading that you couldn’t hold back. “We’re at work and you’re thinking about that? What the hell are you on?”

He shrugged, grin unwavering and eyes gleaming. “I’m on whatever you’re on.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, letting it ripple through the tension because the thought of spending more time with him made your stomach warm in a way you couldn’t explain.

Later, the chaos of the stage faded behind you as you slipped into the VIP area, its soft lighting casting a warm glow over velvet couches and low tables crowded with champagne flutes. The music thumped deep, a pulse that vibrated through the floors and your chest. Drew was there before you even noticed, waiting.

You moved toward him, brushing past a cluster of other actors and influencers, feeling the tension of the day melt in the familiar pull of his presence. Slowly and instinctively, your back pressed to his front as the song shifted to something slower, more sensual.

“Don’t step on my feet,” he murmured over the music, voice soft and teasing making you chuckle. The warmth of his body seeped into yours through the thin fabric of your outfit. “You always find the best spots,” he whispered then, tilting his head so his lips were near your ear. His breath was warm, slightly scented from the champagne he’d been sipping and it made your stomach flutter in ways you weren’t entirely prepared for.

“I don’t fight for them,” you admitted, tilting your chin up slightly so the back of your head brushed his shoulder. “They just…find me.”

He smiled the sort of small, private smile that only you seemed to notice and rested his head lightly against yours. You spoke in fragments over the music, words threading between you in whispered sentences about the stage, the crowd, about nothing and everything at once, the kind of conversation that could only exist when two people knew each other too well to need full sentences.

“You know,” he said, words vibrating through you, “I could stay here all night just like this.”

“Wouldn’t that make us late for the cast dinner?” you teased but your tone softened, a hint of sincerity threading through your laughter.

“Doesn’t matter…I’m sure they’d understand," he said simply and in that moment, even as the world spun around you in glittering lights and whispered cameras, you believed it.

Fans didn’t miss a beat. Across social media, videos of the two of you began circulating within minutes, an unsteady handheld shot of your back pressed against his chest, your head tilting slightly so he could murmur into your ear, the light catching the small curve of your smile and the way his hands lingered just a heartbeat too long at your sides. Clips of laughter, quiet glances and subtle touches went viral almost instantly, captions exploding with speculation: 

“Are they together?!”  “I can’t, please just look at them!”  “Back-to-front dancing??”

“That’s the problem with you. You always look like you’re plotting something,” you murmured over the music.

“That’s because I am,” he whispered back, the corner of his mouth tugging up in that slow grin that made your chest tighten. “Currently plotting on how to get you out of here.”

You laughed, tilting forward and pretending to scowl, though the way his hands stayed gentle by your sides made it impossible to be mad. “Well, you’ve been doing an awful job so far,” you admitted, voice soft but teasing.

A different angle caught it this time, the way your fingers curled around his forearms without hesitation, the way your head tipped back in laughter before you turned to him, eyes soft and completely unguarded. It wasn’t dramatic or posed just instinctive, which somehow made it worse in the best way. By the time the moment had passed, it was already everywhere, clipped and reposted across Instagram and TikTok, looping endlessly under captions screaming things like “I know they did it but I just can’t prove it” and “This is actually insane.”

“It might be for my own benefit, though. I just love seeing you laugh,” he said, voice warm. “I swear it’s dangerous. I can’t stop smiling when you do.”

“Yeah, well, you always give me reasons,” you replied, looking away from his intense gaze, just enough to make him grin.

“You know,” he whispered, leaning down to speak into your ear, “I could get used to this.”

You smirked, then playfully scoffed. “Get used to what? Flirting with co-workers?”

“Ha! Funny,” he chuckled low and breathy, “You know you’re my favorite…and I’m proud of you. You did good out there today,” he murmured, lips close enough that you felt the words against your shoulder. “Really good.”

You exhaled a laugh. “You say that like I didn’t almost pass out backstage.”

“I saw that too,” he admitted, the grin in his voice so familiar. “But that’s why I’m here, right? To catch you before you fall apart.”

“You always show up at the perfect time,” you said quietly, the words slipping out before you could overthink them, softened by the closeness and the steady comfort of his presence.

“Yeah,” he breathed, leaning in just enough that the tip of his nose brushed your hair, a gentle, almost reverent touch. “You make it really difficult not to, you know that?”

You snorted softly, trying to deflect even as your heart thudded louder than the music pulsing through the room. “That sounds like a line.”

“It’s not,” he said with a soft, almost nervous laugh following, the kind he only ever let out around you. “Trust me, I’ve tried not showing up. I’ve actually tried and it doesn’t work…clearly. Kinda impossible at this point.”

Your breath hitched despite yourself, warmth curling low in your chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he replied without hesitation, voice dropping into something quieter, more honest. “I just… I really love being with you,” he finished softly, like it was the simplest truth in the world.

Your pulse fluttered traitorously at that. “Sounds like a confession.”

“Maybe it is,” he breathed, his thumb tracing a slow, unconscious arc over your hip as if his body knew something his mind was still catching up to. “Maybe you already knew.”

You swallowed, your smile growing without permission, settling warm and undeniable on your lips. “Maybe.”

If the two of you felt the world narrow down to just the space between your bodies, everyone else felt the opposite, like it had cracked wide open. Phones were still raised, subtle at first, then less so, screens glowing as fans caught pieces of something that didn’t feel staged or accidental enough to ignore. Short clips hit social media almost immediately, grainy and shaky but somehow more intimate because of it.

By the time the night was still unfolding for you, the internet was already losing its mind.

Across posts, stitches, slowed-down edits and zoomed-in screenshots, the same comments rose to the top, liked tens of thousands of times, pinned and reposted like proof everyone had collectively witnessed something undeniable.

“this is not coworker behavior. i repeat: NOT coworker behavior.” “idk what’s going on but I’m INVESTED.” “HELLO???? ARE WE ALL SEEING THIS??” “they’re literally dancing like they’re in love and trying to pretend they’re not. i’m gonna pass out.” “i’m sorry but does drew’s face not look like a man who is DOWN BAD???” “the way she melts into him i’m sick.” “GENUINELY didn’t know eyes could literally sparkle this much.”

JJ was in the middle of a story, mouth full of the pancakes you had made him, the smell of burnt butter lingering in the hot morning air, sitting across from you at the old kitchen table, when you look up suddenly – raising your hand for JJ to stop talking – listening closely to the sounds outside, thinking you hear a car pulling into the driveway. You're so focused, straining to differentiate between the sounds of cars driving past and your mom's car, your ears almost ringing with the sheer intensity of it. JJ's leaning towards you, looking between you and the kitchen window, chewing slowly, waiting for your go ahead. No car. You breathe again, not even realizing you had been holding it.  

“Hey, it's okay, she's not coming back today, right?” JJ questions, finishing off his plate a little faster, knowing you'd probably want to go to your room, just in case.   

“Yeah, but you never know with her, she could just show up randomly.” You pick up both plates hurriedly, JJ still taking his last bite as you pull his fork away from him, putting the dishes in the sink.  

“You wanna go to your room?” JJ presses himself close to you, washing his hands after you. 

“Yeah, what time do we need to leave at?” You pull him down the short hallway to your room, giving a quick glance into your mom's room as you passed, a nervous habit.  

He shrugs “about 10 minutes” 

“Okay, come on, I'll get my stuff and change.”  

───♡─── 

"Mm, you taste so good, what is that?” JJ's voice comes out low, rough, mumbling against your lips. You giggle softly “I don't know, just me?”  

JJ had flopped down onto your bed, flicking his lighter on and off when he saw you pulling your pink pyjama shorts down from the corner of his eye. One thing led to another, and now here you were, wrapped up in each other, laughing against each other's lips, kissing slow and soft for the last 10 mins – JJ humming low into your mouth every now and then. He tastes like salt air and maple syrup – his hands pulling you closer and closer to him, and you swear you've never felt safer than in his arms.  

JJ's phone goes off for the third time, and you glance sideways to see a message pop up from John B. JJ gently pulls your chin back towards him, kissing you again.  

“JJ, *kiss* what did *kiss* they say? *kiss* They're *kiss* probably waiting *kiss* for us” he swallows your words, not being able to get enough of you.  

“Doesn't matter, there's more important things going on here” he mumbles against your lips. 

“JJ” you laugh against his lips. 

“Shh, I'm kissing my girlfriend” He moves to lay on top of you, lips still chasing yours, when you hear a car pulling into the driveway. You're sure this time. You push JJ off you, eyes wide, heart pounding, scrambling to get off the bed, tuning in to the noises outside in that way only you could.  

"Wha-” JJ hadn't heard anything, brows furrowing at your sudden shift.  

You put your finger to your lips, signaling him to be quiet. You hear keys going into the front door lock a second before the front door slams open. You feel it in your chest, as if the door had slammed against your heart.  

"Shit shit shit” you mouth, your eyes furiously searching the floor for your pyjama shorts, quickly pulling them back on.  

Your eyes flick to JJ, scared, "She wasn't supposed to be home today, fuck” 

He's standing up now, eyes frantic, searching yours as you rush to your room door, locking it. Your mother yells out to you, sending your heart into your throat, your whole body hot. Your hand hovers over the doorknob – bracing yourself – when you hear her throw something, the sound of it breaking making you and JJ wince. You turn to JJ, warning. 

“JJ whatever you do, do not come out of my room, okay, promise me?” 

Your eyes are boring into his, willing him to understand, as if you could make him stay with the sheer intensity of your look. 

“No, baby, I'm not letting you go out there by yourself, are you crazy?” he shakes his head, not getting it, as he moves towards you, ready to follow you out.  

"Maybe if she sees I'm here, she won't do anything” he whispers to you, almost begging. 

“Listen to me, please, you can't come out, no matter what, whatever you hear, I don't care if I'm screaming for you, do not come out, if you do, it'll make it so much worse for me. She'll actually kill me if she thinks I'm trying to get my boyfriend to stand between us.” 

JJ's eyes fill with fear at your words. “But – ”  

“JJ, if you care for me at all, you won't come out until you hear her leaving.” 

She's yelling your name louder now. Angrier. You look at JJ, desperate. 

“Promise me?” 

“I promise” It kills him to agree to that, wanting nothing more than to argue that he could protect you, he could get you both out before anything happens – but deep down, he knows you're right, he knows there's no way around this, knows it'll be worse – almost irreversible, if he tries anything – all too familiar with the violence that comes from hands meant to love you.  

Dread fills you, weighing you down as you drag yourself out of your room – are your feet even moving? Yes, you're in front of her now, can see her feet.  

“Yeah, mom? You were calling me” your heart is beating so hard in your ears, that you don't even know if you said it aloud.  

“Can you not hear me from your room? Why did you have the door closed, huh? You can't even hear me calling you.” She's almost spitting the words at you – eyes filled with a hatred she reserves just for you. Your eyes burn – threats of doors being removed from hinges, ‘why do you need privacy? You trying to hide things from me?’ – filling your head, you don't even know if she's saying it now, or if you were remembering a time before.  

“I was just about to change my clothes” you hear yourself say, God, you sound so shaky, get it together.  

“Its 11:30 in the fucking morning and you're just getting up now? Don't you have school today?” 

“It's the summer break mom, there's no school today.” Your words come out soft, mumbled. You can't look at her, you know you should, know it makes her angrier when you don't, but you can't, it's as if your head weighs 30 pounds, impossible to lift your eyes to meet hers. 

You prided yourself on knowing the exact combination of words to not set her off, you know her, you tell yourself, you can control it. You can't of course, it never really followed a pattern, didn't matter what you said or did – because for it to change based on your actions, it would've had to start with you, be caused by you – and it never did, it wasn't your fault, but it was harder to believe than say. You'd say it to JJ, believe it even, when it came to his dad – knowing that the abuse started with them – the abusers, and the way they took their position of power, your deep desire to be loved, to be cared for as any child should be – and warped it into something ugly.  

"So where were you off to? Going to hang with those stupid, no-good friends of yours, your low-life boyfriend, wasting your life away?” 

You're suddenly very aware of JJ being in your room, eyes stinging with embarrassment, not wanting him to hear these words, feeling protective of him. He'd heard worse, his dad being who he was – Luke; all talk of laziness and good for nothing children who do nothing but smoke weed and hang on the southside, all the while sinking further into the couch, making his home there, surrounded by empty beer bottles and trash, snoring, dead to the world, talks of I could've been something great, if it wasn't for you, “sacrifice” – adding layers and layers to the piles of debt, landing a punch here, a kick there, keeping JJ down like a well-trained dog, ready to hand Luke the world, or maybe just another beer bottle or the tv remote that was right fucking next to him – laziness indeed.     

"Look at these fucking dishes, were you going to leave the kitchen like this, huh? Leave it for me to clean up after you?”  

“No, no mom, I swear, I was going to do them before I – ”  

She slaps you across the face, hard, your face burns, your ears ring, a metallic taste filling your mouth as your body seizes up, eyes brimming with tears as you hold your cheek in your hand, the adrenaline coursing through your veins giving you enough strength to finally look up at her.  

You regret it immediately, she's suddenly 20 feet tall and you're 8 years old again, crying, begging her not to throw out the bracelets John B had made you because you had left them in the living room – a space she had warned you to never leave your things.  

“Mom, please, JJ is here” you beg, the hope burning bright in your chest, threatening to go out any second. Maybe if she sees I'm here, she won't do anything – JJ's words playing through your mind.  

JJ's listening through the door, fists clenched, pacing, fire running through his veins. He heard the slap, felt it, but he promised you, he promised you. He breathes deep, closing his eyes, tears threatening to fall, chest heaving. 

“I don't give a fuck who's here, I'll slap you in front of him. You trying to threaten me now, huh? With your little boyfriend. I don't give a fuck about him. He better not come out here, you got that? He comes out here, and I'll kill him.”  

You know she means it, know she'd do it, the hope that had been burning in your chest extinguishing quickly, gone. You nod, breathing out, taking a slight step back. I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here. 

"Get the fuck out of my face, I can't stand to look at you” she spits out, turning away from you. You walk away, sighing, relief flooding your body, the hope reigniting, thinking that was the end of it. 

JJ's sigh mirrors yours – you could feel it from outside the door, he's starting to open the door, just the tiniest bit, ready to take you in his arms, when his heart drops – he spots your mom coming up behind you, yelling – ‘you think you can threaten me with your boyfriend, huh, let's see’ – before she grabs you by the shirt and slams you against the wall. JJ hears it, feels it, flinching hard, his body shaking with rage, with fear, with pure terror. No. No. NO. Please, God, no, this can't be happening. JJ shit, MOVE. do something. go to her. HELP HER.  

He's frozen in place, watching as your mom's fist connects with your face – you stumble, glaring at her, blood filling your mouth. All you can feel is heat, heat, heat – the pain rushing through your skull like wildfire. You hear her yelling, ‘You lazy piece of shit.’ Your body is shaking, you want to hit her, want to scream, you want to get out and never come back. You feel the blood drip down from your nose, hot, you're so hot, so angry, so. fucking. done. Your mom hits you again as you try to dodge her, you can't tell where her fist lands, your body has stopped registering pain – you're starting to shut down, starting to go to that place in your mind where everything's quiet.  

She'd lost her temper like this a few times, less often now that you were older – you were well-trained now – no talking back, wash the dishes before she gets home, don't go out with friends when she's in a bad mood. There'd be days where you'd come home and she'd have cooked, cleaned even, sitting on the couch, asked quickly how your day was. ‘Good’, you'd mumble, confused, a little hopeful. She'd probe further, asking where you went, ‘how's JJ? He good? What about your other friends?’ She never remembered their names. You'd sit down next to her, warily, before recounting your day, your voice getting more sure as you went, telling her with a laugh how John B had gotten in trouble for bringing a bucket full of water balloons to class, how Kiara had a crush on this new boy at school, ‘he's from California, very into the environment’. You didn't know when, but at some point, she had stopped listening – maybe she hadn't been listening at all – interrupting you, yelling about why you had got in trouble at school, ‘you ungrateful shit’, before dragging you to the kitchen – ‘you better have this clean before I get back’ – and disappearing to god knows where. You didn't tell her about your day anymore.  

You would dream of someone swooping in and saving you, maybe your dad – whom you had never known – would just come in one day and put up a big shield as you packed all your things and walked away, into safety, into kindness, into a place you'd never have to worry about anything. JJ had the same dream, of course he did – it was the same dream all abused kids had, someone to save them – his mom would come back and hold up that imaginary shield, fierce and protective, daring Luke to lay his hands on her son again. He knew she wasn't coming, knew that if she was to, she would have taken him with her in the first place. You knew the same; no one was coming. No one. 

When you were younger and fantasy novels had become your escape, you'd tell JJ the stories (he was never one for reading), eyes full of wonder, whispers of magic, adventure, all the things the two of you could do, if you could just get out of here. ‘You know, once we turn 11, we could get our letters to Hogwarts and go together?’ you'd say, hopeful. JJ dreamed with you – ‘maybe Hagrid will show up on a boat and burst through the front door and take us away’.  

One day, you had caught JJ crying in his wardrobe, lip busted after Luke had lost a bet he'd made down at the pub – crawling in next to him, closing the door behind you, wishing, hoping, for hours – ‘maybe if we stay long enough, Narnia will show itself to us, Aslan will take us on an adventure, he'll make us king and queen’. JJ's eyes lit up at king; he could be a king and you, his queen. He smiled at that, placing his hand next to yours on the back wall, fingers brushing – wishing, hoping. Maybe there was a place for you somewhere. Two kids who just wanted to be loved, be safe – kids who looked at John B, whose mom left, and dad neglected him and thought – he's living the dream – what they wouldn't give to have a piece of his life, because when all you've known is violence – neglect and invisibility felt like safety. 

No one was coming, JJ knew that, you knew that, you could feel it in the back of your throat as your mother's fist connected with your body once again. It takes everything in you not to call out for JJ, his name sitting on the tip of your tongue, knowing that if you say his name, he’ll be there, no matter what he had promised you earlier. 

JJ's body drops to the floor against the other side of the wall, looking away, he can't bear it, feels like he's going to die, using every ounce of strength he has not to come out and pull your mom off you, throw her to the ground – shoot her in the fucking face for ever daring to even look at you wrong, let alone hurt you in this way. Come on. Come on. Fucking coward. Get up, get the fuck up, go to her. Right. Now. But you promised her. FUCK the promise, go to her. No, you know you can't, her mum will kill her if you go out. FUCK.  

He's still frozen, his body won't move, his mind warring with himself. JJ was never one to back down from a fight, always ready to throw the first punch, to defend his friends, but this – this was different. He'd known your mom since you were kids, almost as afraid of her as he was of Luke. He knew just how crazy she could get, had seen it. He could risk you – the person he loved most in the world – dying. You were going to come back here, to this house, to her, by yourself next time, and there's no telling what she would do if JJ dared intervene.  

You feel your hair being pulled, your mom slapping you again, spitting profanities at you as you move to get away from her, tripping over something as your head hits the wall, hard. No. No. She didn't mean to do that. She wouldn't, right? She had done a lot, but she had never knocked you out cold before. Your body's on fire, blistering, burning, you're drowning, running out of air. You feel your vision go spotty, your head throbbing so loud, you barely hear the words coming from your mom's mouth. You blink up at her. You're on the floor now. You think you see a hint of guilt in her eyes, remorse on her face. A trick of the light, your eyes not seeing clearly, it has to be. She's shrinking now, getting smaller and smaller as you try to move, your head screaming at you when you do. You feel a hand come to your cheek and you flinch ever so slightly, before seeing JJ, your JJ.  

In the distance, you hear the door closing, your mom's car driving away, your body going limp as relief washes over you. I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here. 

“Baby, baby, look at me, hey look at me, I need you to stay awake” JJ's talking to you, you know his voice, know his blonde, messy hair and his infuriatingly beautiful blue eyes, but he's so far, so so far. Why is he so far away? JJ. JJ. Come here, come closer, I need you, I can't hear you, I can't see you. His hands are on you, you can feel him, you know his touch, still so far. How is he touching me from so far?  

“Baby, please answer me, fuck, baby, I'm so sorry, so sorry” you feel yourself being lifted off the ground.  

“JJ”  

“Yes, baby, I'm here, I'm here, fuck, I'm so sorry baby, stay awake for me, look at me” 

He's moving now, you're moving, you see the front door to your house closing, blurry, so blurry. Are you inside or out? I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here. You had said it out loud that time, without realizing.  

“I know baby, I know, we're going, you're going to be okay.” He's so far again, why does he keep moving so far? ‘JJ’, you sob his name, hands reaching for him. It pierces his heart, floods his brain until it's the only sound he hears. He's right there, you can feel the warmth of him, the hard curves of his muscles, his scent, so him, so warm, so familiar, he's right there. Why does he sound so far? He breathes out, hands shaking as he pulls open the door to the twinkie, sitting you in. As he starts to move to the driver's seat, you grab his arm.  

"JJ, where are you going? We're going to be late, we're going to be – for the beach” 

He blinks at you, face filled with worry. Your eyes are barely open, you're not looking at him, your body is shaking, and your grip on his arm is so tight, he can't move. He lets out a shaky breath, taking you in, there's blood dripping down your face, handprint across your right cheek, shirt torn, marks already forming across your skin. His beautiful girl, falling apart. This is your fault; you could've stopped this. He places his hands on either side of your face, “Baby, hey look at me, I'm going to take you to the hospital, I need you to let go just for a second while I start the van, okay? Then you can hold my hand again.”  

"Promise?”  

“I promise” his heart stutters, remembering his last promise to you, never wanting to promise you anything ever again. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.  

JJ goes to start the engine, hands shaking. The key won't turn.  

“Fuck, come on, not now, this stupid piece of shit” his hand slams against the dashboard, his face burning, he's frantic, looking to you slowly losing consciousness and grabs your hand.  

“Baby, baby, hey please keep your eyes open, I'm getting you out, look at me, look at me, we're going to go to the hospital.” he was pleading with you, pleading with the universe, please, no, this can't be fucking happening. 

“No, no hospital, please, please JJ, I can't go to the hospital, she'll find out, or they'll find out” you let out before slipping away again.  

He doesn't know what you mean, but he listens anyway, not knowing what else to do, desperately trying to get the twinkie to start – he takes a deep breath, holding the steering wheel as he turns the key slowly, it works this time, engine coming to life as he breathes a sigh of relief, speeding down the road. His phone's ringing again, he had put it on silent when your mom got home, looking to see 10 missed calls from John B and Kiara. He calls John B back, hands shaking.  

“JJ, what the fuck, dude? You can't just take the twinkie and then not answer – ” 

“John B, John B, shut the fuck up, is Pope there?” John B hearing the fear in JJ's voice, sits up, shushing the others around him, the worry on his face signaling the others to stop mucking around. They had assumed you and JJ were taking advantage of your time alone and had forgotten about the plans you had made earlier.  

“Yeah, yeah man he's here, everyone's here, what's going on?” 

“I'll be there in 5 minutes, okay? Tell Pope to stay there.” 

“JJ, what's going on?” Pope's voice comes through the speaker. 

“Just stay there, fuck, I'm nearly there, okay?” 

He hangs up, throwing his phone to the side, seeing it light up again with Pope calling. He ignores it, reaching out for you again.  

“Baby, baby, hey you gotta stay awake, hey, look at me” JJ doesn't think he's ever been this scared in his life, he feels bile rising in his throat, his whole body burning, heart pounding through his chest.  

“JJ, it hurts” your hand comes to your lip, a sob slipping from your lips.  

You're awake, you're awake. JJ's hand comes to your face, then moves to your hand, pulling it to his lips, holding it there, proof of you being here, being awake, being here, with him.  

“I know baby, I know, it's okay, I promise you're going to be okay” Third promise today. He means it, you will be okay, you have to be.  

His voice is closer now, loud, almost too loud, pain searing through every part of you – the dips in the road making you cry out when your body bumps gently against the door. You're pulling up to the chateau, JJ putting the van in park, not bothering to turn it off, before running to your door, carrying you out – your head falls limp against his shoulder, blood smearing across his white t-shirt, adding to the stains that had been left there earlier. 

You see Sarah first, running up to you both, the others still inside, her hands coming to her face as she gasps loudly, tears filling her eyes immediately.  

“JJ, oh my god, what the fuck happened? Oh my god, oh my god.” She's panicking now, reaching for you when JJ pushes her out of the way. 

“Get the fuck out of my way Sarah. Pope! Come on man I need your help.” JJ's voice cracks, rushing you inside as Kiara holds the door open, staring in pure shock at the sight of you, Sarah following closely behind, cheeks wet with tears. He places you on the couch gently, "shh, shh, baby, it's okay, you're safe now” 

“I'm here man, I'm here, what the fuck happened?” Pope pushes JJ out of the way, coming to hold your face as you smile weakly at him. John B and Cleo are behind him, everyone talking at the same time, its chaos, ‘what the fuck happened?’ And ‘oh my god’, and your name over and over again, Sarah's crying, Cleo's rummaging through drawers for a first aid kit, Kiara's yelling at her, ‘it's in the bathroom, it's not there, fuck, fuck, fuck’. A first aid kit drops into Pope's lap, not sure where he got it, but he unzips the bag quickly and gets to work silently as the chaos continues. John B's quiet, still – he knows what happened, has known your mom the longest. He grits his teeth, moving to Sarah to hold her. She crumbles in his arms, letting out a loud sob.  

“Everybody, shut the fuck up!” JJ yells, his hands in his hair, pulling, dried blood on his face, his neck, his shirt, eyes wide – they all stop in their tracks, looking at him, waiting. He moves to your side, holding your hand gently. He's shaking. 

“Baby, hey baby you're going to be okay, yeah? Pope's going to fix you up, okay?” 

You nod a little to show you understand, not having the energy to speak, hand coming to cup his cheek, comforting. His hand covers yours as he tilts his face slightly, kissing your palm. Even now, bruised, bleeding, your eyes are filled with concern for the boy you love – you care about him so deeply; it makes JJ feel nauseous. You didn't protect her, you could've stopped this, it's all your fault, why didn't you do anything? Pope is pulling out antiseptic and bandages. The voice in JJ's head gets louder. It's all your fault, all your fault, all. my. fault. He's going to vomit.  

“You guys, can you give me some space?” Pope rips open the alcohol wipes, gesturing to the group to move aside.  

JJ's the first to move, eyes stinging, the lump in his throat getting bigger, he's so nauseous now, the smell of blood lingering in his senses. He knows he should say something, comfort you, but he can't think – he needs to get out – he gives Pope a frantic look, questioning, as Pope nods at him, a silent I've got it from here, take the time you need.   

JJ moves outside, door slamming behind him, he hadn't meant to open it that hard – John B follows, the girls stopping at the weathered couch on the porch. JJ takes a deep breath, placing his hands on his knees as he swallows the bile threatening to come up, the fresh air soothing him for just a second before he feels the anger rise – hot and heavy. He grabs the nearest object he can find – a crushed beer can from the many nights spent drinking around the fire – and throws it as far as he can, yelling, "Fuckkk” 

John B walks over to JJ, throwing his arms around him, pulling him in. John B had seen him like this only once before – you were 10 years old and your mom had pulled you off a trampoline, your arm breaking, JJ witnessing the whole horrific thing, him and John B sitting next to you in a hospital room, confirming your lie to the nurse of falling off the trampoline on your own as your mom sat in the corner, watching. There were other times, when Luke had beat him black and blue, caused JJ to fracture bones, a rib, his wrist – but this was different, seeing it, seeing someone else be hurt that way right in front of you, by a parent, no less, it left him broken in a way that couldn't be laughed off, couldn't be waved away with a quick joke.  

JJ collapses into his arms and finally breaks, letting out a sob, heavy and messy as his hands grip the back of John B's shirt fiercely, anchoring himself.  

“It's okay, it's okay, I've got you, man, hey, hey, you're safe, she's safe” 

“I didn't – I couldn't – fuck, I just – ” JJ cries harder, his body wracking with sobs.  

“It's okay, hey, hey, look at me” John B holds the back of JJ's neck, pulling him in, pressing their foreheads together, grounding him.  

"You did the right thing, you did the right thing” 

JJ's lip quivers, tears falling as his body shakes, pulling away from John B, hands running through his hair, “No man, I didn't, I did nothing, I just stood there and fucking watched, I let it happen, I didn't fucking protect her, I could've stopped it, I could've...” he trails off, voice cracking as the lump in his throat returns.  

“Hey, no man, you did the right thing, you knew you couldn't do anything because what happens next time, huh? What if she goes back, then what? You did the right thing, you brought her here, she's safe.” John B pulls him in again, holding him as he cries.  

“You did the right thing, okay, you did the right thing” he whispers softly to JJ as his body shakes – Cleo, Sarah and Kiara coming up behind them, wrapping their arms around the boys. They stay like that for a few minutes, holding each other until JJ slowly pulls away, wiping his face with the back of his hand.  

JJ's recounting what happened now, talking softly as the others gather around him on the porch. Sarah's tearing up, Cleo's pacing back and forth, kicking things, throwing things, muttering to herself, while John B sits silently, head in his hands. Kiara's holding Sarah – never having felt angrier than in this moment, the only other time being when JJ had showed up to the chateau in a very similar condition to you. Her jaw's clenched, heart tugging hard as she remembers just how small and scared you looked as JJ carried you to the couch. She lets go of Sarah before going inside to check on you and Pope.  

JJ goes on to explain how this used to happen when you were kids, mostly for Sarah and Cleo's sake – them having only known you for a few years. Sarah had always heard of you, as kids who live in a small place tend to, but Cleo wasn't from here, she hadn't grown up hearing the whispered rumors of JJ's dad or your mom, hadn't seen you with a cast on your arm at The Wreck, or JJ with a black eye at the beach when you were both 13. John B tells them about the trampoline – Sarah letting out a sob, Cleo standing again, pacing back and forth, knife in hand, anger coursing through her, "Fucking shit man, I kill her”  

John B pulls Sarah into his side, wiping her tears gently, kissing her forehead. Sarah lets out a shaky breath, "Shit, I'm sorry, I don't want you guys to have to comfort me as well, it's just – fuck, I don't even know what to say”  

“It's okay Sarah, and hey I uh – I'm sorry about earlier when I – ” JJ's hand moves to the back of his neck, rubbing nervously. 

Sarah interrupts, “It's okay JJ, I was in the way, I get it, I would've yelled at me too”  

JJ nods at her, a quiet truce – he's about to continue when he spots Pope and jumps to his feet – Cleo, John B and Sarah turning their attention to him as well. Pope's already putting a hand up, placing it on JJ's shoulder, silencing him. 

“It's okay, Kie's with her, she's okay, she wanted Kie to help her shower and change, told me, and I quote 'tell JJ he better have burned my clothes by the time I get out of the shower because I never want to see those again’, and then very dramatically threw them out the bathroom door once she was in.”  

JJ shook his head and laughed, a real laugh, almost disbelieving – your ability to comfort him – lighten his mood – even from afar, even when you yourself were hurting so much, left him in awe – warmth spreading through his chest, dimple appearing on his cheek as the others chuckled softly behind him. My girl. “Alright, give ‘em here then” 

“She was asking for you two as well” Pope gestures towards Cleo and Sarah, picking up your clothes and throwing them over to JJ. He hands him a clean t-shirt and a wet washcloth, JJ muttering a thanks before cleaning the dried blood and changing his shirt. Sarah readies herself, exhaling slowly with her hands on her hips and wipes her face. Cleo's still twirling her knife, face hard, as she kicks a stray beer can. Pope takes her hand in his, “hey, hey, I know you're angry. I am too, but she needs you to be calm right now, okay?” 

Cleo clenches her jaw, Pope presses a kiss to her cheek as her face softens, before following Sarah inside. Behind them, Pope and JJ are locked in a hug, Pope holding JJ's head as he buries his face in Pope's shoulder, mumbling, ‘Thanks man, you have no idea’, as Pope whispers back, ‘It's okay, it's okay’. 

───♡─── 

“Have you eaten?” Kie questions softly, eyes filled with a quiet concern as she watches you, sitting cross-legged on the bed, staring into the distance, barely moving, unblinking.  

You don't respond, eyes trained on the wall across from you, JJ's surfboard propped against it, next to a pair of your sneakers. A picture of all of you sits in an old wooden frame on the bedside table, next to a few tattered bracelets and a half-empty can of beer. There's hints of each of you around the room – a ukelele of Kiara's sits on the table in the corner, next to a pile of textbooks that could only be Pope's, hand-sketched drawings of turtles that you and Kiara had done, stuck to the walls with sticky tape. Pasted across the mirror were little post-it notes of messages you had left JJ – mostly notes of where you were gone that you'd stick to his forehead when you had spent the night with him, not trusting in him to have charged his phone – kept for the dirty jokes you'd scribble at the end, the rest of the Pogues scowling at the two of you upon seeing them. Various dirty t-shirts were strewn across the floor, JJ's most likely – the room having quietly become his refuge over the years – yours too, in more recent years. You had pulled one of them on after your shower, a blue kildare island t-shirt that still smelled like JJ – cheap cologne, salt air, the faintest hint of weed and something you couldn't quite place, something so uniquely him that you couldn't help inhaling it. 

The soft ends of your braid drip onto your back, dampening the shirt and bringing you back to the room. Kie had said something, you furrow your brows, shaking your head almost indiscernibly before turning to her and offering her a too big smile, “Sorry, what'd you say?” 

“I was just asking if you'd eaten, before we...”, she trails off, gesturing to the joint she was rolling, a knowing look on her face – you tended to get sick if you smoked on an empty stomach. You're itching for a smoke, wanting to take the edge off the pain still hammering through you.  

“Yeah, JJ and I had pancakes this morning” you frown, a thought occurring to you before continuing. “Shit, that was only this morning, like literally a few hours ago, it feels like a lifetime ago now...” you trail off as Cleo and Sarah walk in, Sarah immediately flopping onto the bed, and wrapping her arms around you as you wince. She pulls back, horrified. 

"Shit, shit, I'm sorry”, Sarah apologizes profusely, hands coming to your face, just barely, almost afraid you'd break under her touch. Cleo's leaning against the wall, one leg up as she takes the joint from Kie wordlessly, placing her knife down on the table. You lean slightly into Sarah's touch, biting your bottom lip to stop from crying when you feel the lump rise to the back of your throat. There was something about Sarah's softness, perhaps her own willingness to show vulnerability that had you almost breaking. She traced your bruises with her thumb before dropping her hands, whispering, “What happened?” 

You break eye contact with Sarah, looking around the room, “Oh this, you know, courtesy of mommy dearest”, you let out a humorless laugh, fading when you see your friends looking back at you, unamused. JJ would've laughed at that.  

“It's fine, you should've seen her”, you joke, knowing damn well you hadn’t dared place a hand on your mother. Cleo sits in front of you now, holding out the lit joint to you. You take a long drag, exhaling, eyes focused on the smoke dissipating in front of you. 

“You want me to kill her? I'll do it” she looks you dead in the eye as you laugh, knowing full well she was not kidding. Kiara's hand comes to your forehead, moving the pieces of hair that had fallen from the braid before taking the joint, passing it to Sarah after she had taken a drag.  

“JJ said you lost consciousness for a bit? That she knocked you out?” Kiara questions. 

You huff angrily, rolling your eyes, “She didn't knock me out, okay? I tripped over something” 

“Yeah but still, you need to go to the hospital, you should get it checked out”, Kie interrupts, voice raising slightly in frustration as Sarah and Cleo nod in agreement.  

“Just leave it Kie, okay? She didn't mean to knock me unconscious. I know she didn't”, your voice shakes, not really believing it yourself.  

Kie places a hand on your knee, pausing, “Hey, look at me – you wouldn't have been knocked unconscious if she hadn't been hitting you. Besides, unconscious or not, it's still not okay” she says slowly.  

You sigh heavily, lip trembling as your eyes fill with tears, “Yeah I know”, dropping your head in shame. Kiara pulls you into her side, your head resting on her shoulder as Sarah passes you the joint.  

“None of this is your fault, y'hear me?” Cleo says it with so much conviction – you can't help but nod.  

───♡─── 

John B walks in, followed closely by Pope and JJ, smiling, amused at the four of you smoking and giggling, shushing each other as the boys walked in.  

“What's this?” 

“Oh nothing, we were just telling Cleo and Sarah about that time Pope got a boner in class” you burst out laughing again, JJ and John B joining, clapping Pope on the back as he shakes his head. 

“Woww, okay, this is the thanks I get for patching you up, hmm?”  

You laugh louder, as Pope shakes his head, looking down, only half embarrassed. You grab his arm as he starts walking out of the room, “No, wait Pope, we're sorry, I'm very grateful for you patching me up”, you say through stifled laughter.  

Your eyes meet JJ's as the laughter dies down, an unreadable expression on his face as he smiles at you. John B walks over to you, handing you an ice pack and a glass of water with a straw that had two tiny boobs on it – straws you had bought and stored at the chateau, stating in all seriousness, ‘they make drinking water fun’. JJ had high-fived you, immediately taking one for himself, laughing, as John B shook his head. A match made in heaven, these two.  

“Hey kid, you feeling okay?” John B pats the top of your head, his boyish way of showing affection.  

You roll your eyes playfully, “Oh yeah, just peachy” 

JJ sits down next you, pulling you into his side as he kisses your forehead. Kiara's rolling another joint, licking the edge of the paper, twisting it closed before passing it to JJ to light. Sarah goes to open the window wider, mumbling something about the smell.  

“So I'm no doctor, at least yet, so you're still going to the hospital to get checked, okay?” Pope gives you a stern look, one you'd expect from an older brother, daring you to argue with him.  

Your heart catches in your throat at the word hospital, your mind wandering back to the many times you had been there, if not for a broken bone, then dehydration, the times you had purposely injured yourself or not drank water, anything to get your mom's attention.  You roll your eyes – feigning indifference – snatching the joint off JJ just as he was about to take a drag, muttering a ‘hey!’ before raising his hands in defense when you give him a pointed look.  

“I'm not going to the hospital, okay? Just drop it.” You take a drag, feeling the effects, the pain now faded into a dull ache, before passing it back to JJ. He sighs heavily, hand coming to pinch the bridge of his nose, glancing around at the group with a pleading look, knowing he wouldn't be able to convince you to go.  

John B's standing at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, Pope and Cleo sitting on a chair next to him, all three of them glaring down at you, as if to convince you by sheer force of will. Kiara nods at Sarah, as they come to sit in front of you, knowing if you'd listen to anyone, it'd be them – something about Kiara's straightforward logic and Sarah's little sister like care, that had you folding. 

“I know you're scared but we just really want to make sure you're okay", Sarah was holding your hands now, eyes boring into yours.  

“But what if they tell her?” you say softly, head hanging down. 

“You're over 18 now, you don't have to tell them what happened, just that you bumped your head and want to make sure everything is okay, that's it.” Kiara reasons.   

You sigh, considering their words before taking a deep breath, not meeting their eyes as you reluctantly give in, “Okay, I'll go, can we go a little later though? I just want to hang out for a bit.” 

Pope opens his mouth to argue before JJ interrupts, knowing that you'd change your mind if anyone tried to pressure you more than they already had.  

“Sure baby”, JJ kisses your forehead, passing the joint back to you as he gives Pope a pointed look over the top of your head. Pope drops it, sighing and sitting back down. Kiara and Sarah smile at each other, satisfied with your answer.  

“JJ, did you burn my clothes?” you ask in a way that has JJ questioning whether he should have actually done it or not.  

“All taken care of princess” He didn't think you were being serious, but on the off chance you were, he had gotten rid of them, smiling at the sight of you in a pair of his boxers and t-shirt. You give him an approving nod, and he sighs in relief. One thing right.  

“Hey guys, can I talk to JJ for a second?” you look around as they slowly nod and start getting up from their spots – John B snatching the joint from your hands with an ‘I'll take that’, Sarah shaking her head at him as he gives her an innocent smile, shrugging his shoulders. She pushes him out the door with a laugh, Kiara, Pope and Cleo following, shutting the door behind them.  

The air suddenly feels thicker – you can almost feel JJ's heart beating against your shoulder, his chest warm and solid against your back. You turn in his hold, locking eyes before reaching for him desperately, wrapping your arms around his neck, face burying into his shoulder as he wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you back even tighter. Something you can't quite name washes over you – the way air hits your lungs when you surface the water – relief maybe, something more primal than that, your hearts beating against each other's chests, almost like his was pushing life back into yours, a quiet plea to keep you here. You ignore the twinge of pain you feel as his arms press into your bruises, welcome it even, needing nothing more than to feel him close to you, reminding you you were alive. You don't know how long you sit like that – silent – JJ's hand running up and down your back, memorizing the map of your spine, your hands twisted into the back of his t-shirt, shaky breaths escaping against his shoulder.  

You let go of him, sitting back on your feet, lungs protesting, being pushed back underwater – chest aching without his to keep it going. You settle for holding his hand, pushing your knees against his in your cross-legged position. It's not enough – you press your forehead to his, his blue eyes brimming with tears as he gazes into yours. You pull back suddenly, frowning, “Don't look at me like that” 

“Like what?”  

“Like you feel sorry for me, I get that enough from everyone else” you take your hand out of his, purposely looking away, you want it to sound mean, biting, but it comes out with a crack, voice wavering as JJ takes your hand in his again, catching your eye before he places a soft kiss to the corner of it, a bruise already forming around it. You bite the inside of your mouth, a nervous habit, swallowing hard as a lump forms in the back of your throat.  

JJ scans your face, eyes dropping to the bruise on your arm, watching as your face screws up when his hand lands lightly on your stomach. It's all your fault – you could've stopped it. Your hand comes to rest on his face, JJ leaning into your touch, eyes fluttering closed at the feel of your thumb brushing his cheek.  

You knew he didn't feel sorry for you, at least not in the way you had implied, knew he was blaming this on himself, knew he'd be replaying the events of the day, going through footage like a detective on a case, pausing, rewinding, replaying in slow motion – I could've stepped in, I could've picked her up straight away, not went inside, why did I stall us just to keep kissing her? If I had been more careful, we could've been out of there before her mom got back. I could've stopped it, pulled her mom off her – I should've protected her.  

“It's not your fault, JJ” you state it firmly, holding his face in both hands now as you guide him to look at you. He shakes his head ever so slightly, a tear falling down his cheek, refusing to meet your eyes. You know he doesn't believe you, so you say it again and again until he's crying into your shoulder.  

“I should’ve stopped her, I should've protected you”  

“Hey, look at me”, you pull his face back, making eye contact before continuing, “You promised me you wouldn't come out and you kept that promise. If you had come out or done anything, it would have been so much worse than this. I need you to believe me. Say you believe me, JJ. This wasn't your fault and...”, you pause, taking a deep breath before adding, softer, “...and it wasn't mine either. If this was the other way around, would you blame me?” 

He shakes his head furiously, no, kissing your palm resting on the side of his face.  

“Exactly”, you press your forehead to his again, closing your eyes, breathing him in.  

You stay like that for a few minutes before JJ pulls back, fingers tracing over your bruises, lips pressing to the bruise forming on your cheek, then trailing his lips down to yours, kissing you ever so gently, careful not to hurt you, your lip stinging with the slight split in it. He's holding you so delicately, kissing you with so much tenderness, it makes your heart tighten and the lump rise back to your throat, eyes stinging with tears.  

“JJ, stop” you let out an almost sob. He sits back immediately, eyes searching yours, face riddled with worry. 

“Shit, baby, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to – ” 

“No, no it's okay, it's not you, I'm just – I'm so – I don't even know, it's just all too much and I – ” you trail off as JJ's hand comes to the side of your face, wiping a stray tear with his thumb. He doesn't push, doesn't ask you to continue, just waits there, arms ready to catch you, hold you, should you need them. The thought makes you let out a sob, finally breaking as your head comes to his chest, arms wrapping around his middle. He pulls you into him, holding you as you cry, shifting his body so that your head rests on his shoulder, arms wrapping around your waist as your body shakes, sobbing into him.  

“I'm here baby, I'm so so sorry, I'm here, I'm here”, he whispers into your ear, eyes screwing shut, his heart aching.  

───♡─── 

“Remember us making out this morning?” your voice interrupts the silence that had settled over the two of you. You were all cried out, letting out soft sniffles as JJ had wiped your face, before moving to rest against the headboard, you leaning into his side, head resting on his chest as you fiddled with his rings.  

JJ chuckles softly, “Yeah baby, what made you think of that?”  

“It just seems like it was so long ago, like another universe that doesn't even exist right now.”  

“Hmm, yeah it does” JJ hums in agreement, hand coming to play with the strands of hair that had fallen from your braid.  

“Sometimes I get worried that this is all it's ever going to be, you know? 

“What is baby?” 

“Pain. And people fucking us over. I'm so sick of it.”  

“We'll get out of here one day, baby, we will” He says it with so much certainty that you almost believe it, you could feel it, so close but just out of reach – the future the two of you talked about.  

“You really think so?” 

“Yeah, I do”  

You let yourself believe it, let yourself indulge – thinking of a small house, a dog and a cat, decorating the house for the holidays, fridge stocked with food, the rest of the Pogues sitting around the dinner table, laughing, eating, maybe having a games night, sleepovers with the girls, music playing, dancing in the kitchen and no one to say a single thing about any of it.  

You hear a knock on the door, JJ mumbling a quick Come in, the door opening as the others make their way back into the room. You and JJ must have been sitting there longer than you thought because they come in with pizza, snacks, and your favorite chocolate. You smile as JJ reaches for it, opening it and passing it to you.  

Cleo, Sarah and Kiara join you on the bed, laughing and chatting away, Pope and John B bringing the tv into the room, ‘just in case you wanted to watch something, you don't need to move’. You roll your eyes, laughing at them as they struggle to balance it on the table in the room. The next few hours pass like this, JJ never leaving your side, eating pizza, laughing, talking, Toy Story playing on the tv in the background, something light, John B had said before starting it. You fade in and out of the room but mostly you're here, with them, smiling around at them as you start to feel sleepy. You look out the window, listening to the wind rustling through the leaves of the trees in the afternoon sun, eyes slipping shut. 

“You know that song? The song the wind makes the trees sing for you on days like today?” 

JJ laughs a little, hand soothing over you as you relax into him – the others assume you're rambling about a new theory, the way you usually do when you're stoned, barely making sense to anyone. But JJ knows what you mean. He's heard the song too. Almost like the trees wanted you to feel less lonely when you felt the whole world was against you. He knows the song. He knows it mixed with the taste of blood and the burning hope that maybe, just maybe, one day, his dad would just stop. Not even love him, or care, but just stop because then maybe he'd have a chance at life, maybe he could stop feeling so. much. pain. So yeah, JJ knows the song. It's written on his bones. He says nothing, just pulls you in closer and kisses the top of your head as you sigh. 

You look around the room – JJ lovingly running his hand up and down your arm as you melt further into his side, legs tangling with his, Sarah cuddled into your other side, placing a kiss on your cheek as she asked you for the hundredth time if you needed anything, Cleo looking at you with the type of fierce protectiveness you'd see from an older sister, daring anyone to try and hurt you again, Pope checking in with you every few mins to make sure you weren't fading, reminding you that you'd still be going to the hospital for a check-up, John B telling jokes that he pretended he was telling the room, but really it was just to see you laugh again, to keep you here, with them, and Kiara, swapping out your ice packs when they had melted, adjusting your straw so you'd stay hydrated – you realized that maybe this was it.   

Maybe the big shield you and JJ had dreamed of wasn't someone older and stronger, maybe it was this – your friends who tended to your bruises and covered your cuts in teenage mutant ninja turtle band-aids, your friends who loved you in a way you had never known – so gentle yet so fierce, holding you like you're worth something – worth everything, your friends who slowly sewed up the holes carved out in your souls by your parents. Not a shield – but an army, to stand behind you, ready to fight for you, ready to catch you if you should fall, to say a silent ‘We've got you’ while you save yourself. Family.  

a/n: ooft, this was a hard, hard write, i think i re-wrote this 6 times after my first 2 drafts trying to find the perfect version and honestly i'm still doubting so many parts lol. this is my first time publishing angst ahhhhh, so please let me know your thoughts in the comments or dms or send asks, always happy to chat!