#dark topper

Days had passed since your last interaction with your boyfriend.

Topper was always known to be the level-headed, well-mannered one compared to his Kook counterparts. He feigned a moral compass, unlike Rafe and Kelce.

So his actions at the bonfire last week…scared you, to say the least.

Until you saw your boyfriend holding John B’s head under the water, teeth clenched, veins protruding from his arms and forehead, you couldn’t recall a time you’d actually been scared of your boyfriend.

The same hands that would gently caress your face, same arms that wrapped around you at night, had tried to drown someone.

The same person who’d always made you feel so secure, so safe…suddenly turned into something he would want to protect you from, right in front of your eyes.

“Topper!” Your use of his full name should’ve been enough to pull your boyfriend from the heinous act he was committing. And normally, it would’ve been. But Rafe had gotten in his ear, convinced him that the pogue boy was a problem, and that Rafe’s life wouldn’t be the only one made easier by the absence of John B.

“Topper, stop it!” Your voice cracked as you kept a reasonable distance from the brawl, watching as the two boys took turns driving their fists into each other relentlessly.

“John B.!” Sarah’s voice rang out through the chaos, too. Both of you crying for your boyfriends, knowing there was nothing either of you could do to safely interfere.

The other boys could though, they just chose not to. JJ was too busy egging on his friend, punching the air and jumping around as he encouraged John B. to, “Get his ass! Fuckin’ stomp his kook head in, John B.!”

You’d never seen your boyfriend so violent. Never seen his eyes so dark, void of almost any hue at all as he glared down at the boy who’s neck he was wringing.

It was like a switch had flipped, one you’d only ever known Rafe Cameron to have.

Which, he and Kelce were no better. The kook pair stood by idly, Rafe sporting a look that non-verbally told just how badly he wanted to jump in and help his friend finish the job. “Don’t be a fucking pussy, Top! Man up!” The Cameron boy never offered good advice.

The scene was a mess. A variety of cries and screams fought against the roar of the ocean waves.

Topper eventually stole the upper hand.

When your boyfriend flipped over, claiming a spot on top of John B., you truly thought his next move would be to hoist himself to his feet and leave it at that. He’d already won, if you could even crown a winner in a losing situation like this one. The amount of blood coating John B.’s face and hair made his defeat obvious.

But the crimson liquid was washed away when Topper suddenly fisted a handful of the blonde’s waves and shoved his face under the surface.

You didn’t miss the way the blue water turned a light pink.

And neither did anyone else. Once the collective realization that John B. was no longer fighting back took over, respective friends rushed to the boys’ aid.

You’d stayed at the scene until you could confirm the pogue boy’s safety. Once you saw Kelce claimed Topper and JJ and Pope claimed their friend, you fled from the beach. You stormed right past Topper’s Jeep, returning to your home at Figure 8 on foot.

Topper drove circles around the island, face bloodied from what few hits his opponent did manage, cursing the air at every empty corner.

He’d hoped he’d find you somewhere along the way to your house.

And you did see his familiar olive green Jeep at one point on your journey. Topper just didn’t round the corner fast enough to catch you fling yourself backwards, darting further back from the road.

You were glad he flew past the tree you flung yourself behind. You would’ve done just about anything to avoid him at that moment.

After all, how were you supposed to know what was waiting for you? Who was waiting for you? Clearly, you didn’t even know who you’d been dating for the past few months.

It was one thing to throw a punch or two. The paths of kooks and pogues were bound to cross, and fights were virtually inevitable.

A bruised lip or broken jaw would send someone to the hospital, at best.

But water infiltrating all airways and, filling both lungs… would kill someone.

How could Topper do that? How could your boyfriend do that?

Then your mind jumped to a more morbid thought… what would happen if you made him that mad, too?

You thought about every time you’d so much as struck a nerve of his before.

What if next time, Topper decided not to let the situation simmer?

What if he reacted violently towards you, too?

You didn’t want to find out.

Thinking of being alone with your boyfriend usually made you happy, excited. You looked forward to time together, away from friends and family, just the two of you basking in each other’s company.

But the thought only brought you dread now. You couldn’t face him, not tonight. Not tomorrow.

In fact, when you finally made it home, just you and your thoughts confinded to your bedroom, you weren’t sure when you’d will yourself to see him again.

You could only be sure that it was in your best interest to ignore the calls and texts, pleads from Topper to meet him somewhere, to hear him out.

You’d soon come to regret that decision.

Everything came to a head one particular night. You’d retired to your bedroom, just a small bedside lamp left on to illuminate the pages of the latest book you were enjoying. The stopping point you’d marked was only a page away when a sudden rustling redirected your attention, and your eyes to the window.

You rolled over in your bed and sat up, discarding the novel on the table and facing the window. The sounds grew louder as you rose to your feet.

Slowly, you crept closer. A shaky hand reached out to draw back the curtain…

You gasped when your eyes fell upon the one person you’d been avoiding.

Topper looked stiff, eyes wide as he quickly backed away from the window he was clearly trying to open.

“Top? What are you doing here?”

Topper had never just shown up at your house unannounced before. Let alone in the middle of the night, hanging outside of your bedroom window. Then again, he’d never gone more than an hour without talking to you, more than a day without seeing you before.

“I-I wanted to see you. I needed to talk to you.” He clarified.

“Why are you…at my window?”

His mouth was open, but nothing came out.

Truthfully, Topper was sure some other guy was keeping you company, and he’d planned on sneaking in your room to catch you in the act. “Didn’t wanna wake your parents.” He lied.

There was a moment of silence, eyes meeting and locking until he broke it off, shifting his weight between his feet. Why did he seem nervous?

“I…” You mouth felt dry. You felt uneasy, memories from the past week flooding back. “I don’t think I want you here right now, Topper.” Why did you feel nervous?

He didn’t like your use of his full name. There was a new look on his face now, something you could only equate to…hurt. Hurt, mixed with a growing anger at his girlfriend’s voiced desire to be rid of him.

“You… don’t want me here?” He repeated. You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Oh,” His eyes peered past you, scanning over what he could make out of your dimly lit room. “You got somebody in there?”

You knew the house was empty, yet you still found yourself following Topper’s gaze. “No, Topper. I just…” What could you say? “I just wanna be alone right now.” He tilted his head quizzically, pausing to think for a moment.

“You’ve been ignoring me.” He held his phone up, referencing the countless calls and texts he’d been sending. “So, are you fucking somebody else, or what’s going on?” Something about this new tone told you he wouldn’t be leaving so easily. He looked like he wanted to jump through your window already.

“Topper, I just-“

“No, why don’t you wanna see me? Why? Because I stood up for you? Because I didn’t let that piece of shit pogue make a move on you?” His chest puffed out now, the kook naturally trying to take up more space, hoping to come off as intimidating without even really realizing what he was doing.

Rafe’s voice ran rampant in the boy’s mind. ‘You go there, you show up and you give her a reason to get over this little bitch fit she’s been throwing.’ He’d suggested, tired of his friend’s constant complaining and sulking at the absence of his girlfriend.

“No,” Topper decided. He wasn’t going to be a pushover anymore. “No. No, we need to talk right now.” You didn’t like his tone, but the way his voice was raising had your concern shifting to your parents being alerted instead of what might happen if you gave into his request.

You sighed in defeat as you held up a finger, nonverbally asking him to give you a second.

Topper worried you weren’t coming back, almost deciding to try your window again until he heard the sound of your front door opening.

He was already rounding the porch, clearing the distance between the two of you when you poked your head out.

The first thing he did when he made it up the steps was try to embrace you, but you were quick to step back, just out of reach.

The action had Topper’s face falling. He tried again, and you retreated more.

“What?” A look of confusion crossed his features. “Why won’t you let me touch you?”

You nervously cleared your throat. “Topper, I… I need you to know that you…” You swallowed hard. “You scared me, the last time I saw you…“

He didn’t say anything, just stared at you. You took it as a prompt to further explain, to clear up the confusion he felt.

“I don’t wanna feel that way around you.”

“I scared you?” He asked, as if it was the most outlandish thing in the world.

You didn’t miss the way his muscles flexed as he balled his hands into fists. The Thorton boy dug his nails into his palms, working on an outlet for the anger that was now brewing. You ignored him for a week, just to tell him you were scared of him?

“Y/N/N, come on. You know I didn’t-“ He extended an arm towards you again, almost grabbing your wrist, but you backed away again.

“I’m serious, Topper. I don’t ever want you to do something like that again.”

“I was sticking up for you!”

“I was yelling at you to stop! You tried to drown him, Top-“

“And I’d do it again!” Topper couldn’t help but cut you off, jumping from speaking, to yelling.

“I’d do it again to protect you,” He repeated, calmer this time. It took you a few moments to start shaking your head.

You looked up at him with wide eyes, a deep set frown on your face as you stared in disbelief.

Throughout the entirety of your 6 months together, Topper had never even raised his voice at you, unless it was during a round of golf that he took a little too seriously.

Topper didn’t miss the way the distance between you and the door slowly lessened.

“Don’t-“ His expression was unreadable. He looked like he wanted to reach for you again. “Do not go back in that house, Y/N.” Your hand was already gripping the door frame.

“Top… you’re scaring me again. I…” You straightened your posture. “I want you to leave. Please,”

Topper did the opposite. Without warning, his chest was suddenly pressed to yours, hands gripping your upper arms gently as he stepped over the threshold, backing you into the house.

“Topper! What are you-“

“Shh, shh,” Your boyfriend shushed you as he made it in the living room. “Just listen to me.” This assertiveness was a new trait for him, and it made you feel uneasy.

“You’re my girlfriend, okay? If I feel like someone is a threat to you, of course I’m gonna step in and-“

“He wasn’t a threat, Topper! He didn’t even do anything to me!”

“See!” Topper relased his hold on you to slam his palm down on a nearby table. “That’s it! Right there! That’s the shit Rafe was talking about,”

“Rafe?” You asked, unsure if your ears were failing you or not. “What does Rafe have to do with this?”

Topper knew he’d said too much, so he ignored you. “You’re my girlfriend. You shouldn’t be sticking up for those…those fucking filthy pogues!”

You shook your head at him. “You’re being crazy right now, Top…” You hoped maybe the nickname would bring his temper back down.

All he did was laugh, a sarcastic chuckle as he dropped his gaze to his feet, shaking his head now, too. “I’m crazy…” he repeated.

“I’m crazy?” His gaze shot back to you now. “You wanna be a fucking pogue lover, but I’m the crazy one?!”

“Top, you need to leave, now.” You tried again. You didn’t like the way your boyfriend’s features were morphing into ones similar to what you’d seen that night at the bonfire.

Topper didn’t know what came over him. All of the animosity he felt towards you at the radio silence you gave him for weeks had boiled to the top. Any normal girl would’ve been thankful to have a boyfriend who was willing to jump into any situation to defend her honor. You acting like you were scared of him for sticking up for you? Calling him crazy for something he and his friends saw with their own eyes? That’s was it for him.

The kook reared back, palm angled in towards his face before the back of his hand drove forward and struck you across yours.

You didn’t know what happened at first. All you knew was your ears were suddenly ringing, head pounding, hair in disarray across your face.

Your head was whipped to the side, and it wasn’t until you raised a hand to cup your cheek that all of the blood rushed to it, leaving you with a painful sensation that you weren’t sure burned or stung more.

You couldn’t tell how much time passed as you stood frozen. Eventually, you found the courage to turn back to Topper, who looked just as shocked as you were.

His jaw hung open, brows drew up in concern as he weighed what to do next.

“Y/N, come here-“ He was afraid to try to comfort you. And rightfully so, as you wasted no time frantically swatting at his hand. “Get away from me!” You screamed, scrambling away from him and further into the house.

“I-I didn’t mean to do that, Y/N/N. I-you know I would never hurt you,”

You didn’t know that, clearly. The hand that wasn’t consoling your cheek referenced the front door. “Go, Topper!” Your voice cracked, tears beginning to flow as the realization of what just happened started to sink in.

Your boyfriend tried to drown someone. He tried to kill them. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak with or see him, too sure that you would be met with that version of Topper, the one you didn’t even know existed.

You told him he scared you, asked him to leave after he tried to sneak in your window, and he…he slapped you. He dismissed your fears, and back-handed you across your face.

You wanted to sob. You wanted to scream, run away and collapse to the floor, all at once. But you to will your scrambled brain to focus on getting him out of the house first.

“Why are you still standing there, Topper?! Get out!” This time, you gritted your teeth and used both hands to push him back.

He stumbled over his feet, just short of tumbling backwards over the threshold if it wasn’t for his quick grip on the frame.

You didn’t give him a chance to redeem himself before you slammed the door in his face, barely missing his fingers before he yanked them back.

Only seconds later, you turned and leaned against the door, sliding slowly to the floor as the sobs you’d been witholding, finally surfaced.

And Topper could hear. He stood, slumped against the door with his forehead leaning against the wood. Your cried and sniffles filled his ears, and the realization of what he’d done filled his mind.

Neither of you could will yourself to move, back to the safety of your room or his car. The two of you simply sunk to the floor, and eventually, the tears started to fall for Topper too.