#john b

You were sitting on the edge of the porch, your knees pulled tightly to your chest, staring out at the marsh. The rest of the Pogues had left an hour ago, but you hadn’t been able to shake the heavy, suffocating feeling that had been building up all day. It was that familiar, exhausting voice telling you that you weren't enough, that you didn't fit in, that you weren't as pretty, or as effortless, or as perfect as everyone else seemed to be.

A soft tear slipped down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away, hating how vulnerable you felt.

"Hey."

The screen door creaked open, and John B stepped out. He took one look at your posture, his warm brown eyes instantly softening with concern. He didn't say anything at first; he just walked over and quietly sat down on the weathered wood right next to you.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" he asked softly, bumping his shoulder against yours.

"Nothing," you mumbled, looking down at your hands. "Just tired."

"Hey, don't do that," John B said, his voice dropping to a gentle whisper. He reached out, his calloused fingers gently catching your chin to make you look at him. "I know that look. Talk to me."

The wall you had built up all evening suddenly cracked. "It's just... everything, John B," you confessed, your voice trembling with a sudden rush of angst. "Sometimes I look around, and I just feel so invisible. And insecure. I look at everyone else, and then I look at myself, and I don't get why you're even with me. I feel like I'm just... not enough. For anyone."

John B stared at you, completely caught off guard. For a second, he just looked hurt... hurt that you were carrying around that kind of pain without telling him.

"Are you kidding me?" he asked, his grip on your hand tightening. He shifted so he was facing you completely, taking both of your hands in his. "You genuinely think that?"

You shrugged, looking away because the intensity in his eyes was too much. "It's hard not to sometimes."

"Look at me," he commanded, though his tone was pure velvet. When you finally met his gaze, he looked so incredibly earnest. "Listen to me very carefully. You are the best thing in my life."

He reached up, his thumb gently wiping away a fresh tear that had escaped.

"You talk about not being enough, but the truth is, you're everything," John B said, a soft, helpless smile breaking through his serious expression. "You're beautiful. And I don't just mean how you look... even though, seriously, you absolutely break my heart every time you smile. I mean you. Your laugh, the way you care about people, the way you keep me grounded when everything else is going to hell. You are so stunningly beautiful, inside and out, and it kills me that you don't see it."

The sincerity in his voice sent a wave of warmth straight through the angst that had been clouding your mind.

"You really mean that?" you whispered.

"With everything I've got," he said without a second of hesitation. He leaned in, pressing his forehead gently against yours. You could smell the familiar scent of salt water and the Chateau on him. "I love you. Exactly as you are. Messy thoughts, insecurities, and all. You don't ever have to change a single thing to be enough for me. And I'llmet you know everytime you doubt yourself until you stop."

He closed the small distance between you, pulling you into a warm, fierce hug. He buried his face in your hair, holding you so tightly that all the doubts in your head finally started to quiet down.

When he pulled back just a fraction, he kissed the tip of your nose, making you let out a small, wet laugh.

"There it is," John B smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you securely against his side. "Don't let those thoughts lie to you. You're a Pogue, and you're mine, and you are absolutely perfect."