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cakesunflower · 5 hours ago

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lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 18

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family’s restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn’t see coming–one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn’t sure they’ll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

A/N: not gonna lie, i wrote & rewrote this chapter a bunch of times and i'm STILL not sure if i fuck with it completely. hopefully it doesn't suck too bad asjkdrnfjk happy reading (maybe)!!!!

For a couple of long seconds, Isla hears nothing but an insistent ringing in her ears. Every other thought eddies out of her head, the only thing running through her mind being oh, no and how the hell did they find out? Oh so slowly, panic begins to bloom in the middle of her chest and gradually spreads out as her gaze flickers between all of her friends, their hardened expressions suddenly making painful, horrible sense.

How did they find out? How did they find out?

Oh, God. She waited too long, didn’t she? Isla should have told them the truth when she had the chance, because no matter how they found out, she can’t deny it. Denying it now means she can never confess the truth without hurting them more, and her brain searches for the words she can’t find. The cardboard straps of the bag in her hand burns on her fingers, heart pounding like a drum.

“Um, how—” Her throat is hoarse, tight. “Where did—”

“Sarah got a picture,” Cleo says, her tone measured as brown eyes meet Isla’s green. “Of you and Rafe. Kissing. Courtesy of Topper.”

Isla’s heart falls to the pit of her stomach, eyes falling shut in a tense combination of disbelief and defeat. Fucking Topper. Anger brews, but it’s overpowered by the nerves that tighten every part of her. She and Rafe hadn’t been careful. Topper must have seen them in the hallway or something after they ran into him. Her heart is racing even as she wishes for it to calm down—as she wishes for Rafe to be here with her.

Oh, this isn’t how she wanted them to find out. God, when she finally felt like she was ready to tell them the truth, Topper fucking Thorton beats her to it and does it in the most uncouth and fucked up way. Maybe their reactions wouldn’t have been positive ones if Isla was the one to tell them, but at least they would have heard it from her and not from someone who is always looking for ways to hurt them in some way. The desire to punch Topper returns tenfold.

“Look,” Isla starts carefully, eyes opening as she looks at them all. “I was—I was going to tell you about us—”

“Us?” Kie repeats, eyes widening under furrowed eyebrows as she gapes at her. Kie’s arms are crossed, the tension rolling off of her in waves, making Isla’s throat work. “You guys are an us? Are you guys in a relationship?” Isla presses her lips together, and it’s an answer enough. Kie’s shoulders rise and fall, her expression akin to horror. “What the fuck, Isla?”

Suddenly, it was like everything Isla had practiced saying to her friends, all of her reasoning and explanation, vanished. She’s caught so off guard that she can’t remember anything that she planned on telling them, and is instead scrambling to find the right words to make this better, somehow. Even when a voice in the back of her head tells her no soothing word of any kind can soften this blow that has rocked all of her friends.

“It was—it sort of just happened,” she says desperately, forcing the words through her tightened throat as she rests the bag of books and flowers down by her feet. Some of them gape at her, some don’t even look at her. Isla’s palms grow clammy. “We kind of kept running into each other and, I don’t know, one thing led to another and—and—” She exhales roughly, her voice a little meek as she says, “He’s really not as bad as you think.”

“Are you kidding me?” Pope snaps, sitting up straight as he narrows his eyes. JJ tenses up. “Are you forgetting the amount of fights we’ve gotten into with him over the years? I’m pretty sure we all know exactly the kind of person he is.”

Isla tries not to flinch at Pope’s harsh tone and harsher words against her boyfriend. “But you guys haven’t noticed that he hasn’t started anything with you for a while now?” Isla tries helplessly, gaze flickering over them. John B’s jaw clenches as he looks away. “I mean, I know you’ve gotten into it with Topper and Kelce, but Rafe hasn’t gotten into it with you, right?”

She knows she’s right, but none of them agree with her. Kie scoffs, shaking her head as the incredulity remains on her face. “I cannot believe you’re defending him right now. He’s an asshole, Isla!”

“Stop calling him that,” Isla snaps before she can help it, but she doesn’t regret defending him, even when Kie pulls back slightly, blinking in surprise. Isla meets her gaze steadily, chest tightening at the betrayal that flashes across her sister’s face. Swallowing, Isla looks at the girl sitting on the couch. “Sarah, come on. He’s your brother.” Sarah’s gaze flickers, meeting Isla’s, and Isla sees the conflict waging war in her friend’s eyes. “I-I know you’ve seen the change in him, too. He’s different now. He’s different with me—”

“How long?” Isla cuts off at the sound of JJ speaking for the first time, her shoulders tensing as she turns her head to the right to look at him. He turns his own head, ever so slightly, to meet her gaze, and Isla’s heart stops. JJ’s blue eyes have never looked so icy. “How long have you two been together?”

Isla’s heart thunders. Her body feels the weight of everyone’s gazes. She looks to the floor ahead of her, her voice a whisper as she answers, “Two months.”

Someone sucks in a sharp breath in the deathly still silence following Isla’s revelation. She lifts her gaze, forcing herself to look at her friends because she isn’t ashamed of her relationship, even if she is worried about their reactions. John B lets out a rough breath, a sardonic chuckle as he drolls, “Wow.”

Isla takes in a breath. “Look, I’m sorry that you guys found out this way—”

“But you’re not sorry about dating Rafe Cameron?” JJ spits out, turning to finally look at her fully, his expression a combination of disbelief, anger, and the same betrayal mirrored on Kie’s face.

Isla steels herself. “No, I’m not. Come on, guys,” she tries, shaking her head. “You know me. You know I’d never be with someone I genuinely thought wasn’t a good person. But I’ve gotten to know him. I know the kind of guy he is—”

“Oh, barf,” Kie cuts her off with a roll of her eyes, and Isla’s teeth press together tightly. “Are you serious?” She leans forward, arms still crossed and gaze locked with Isla’s. “He’s obviously playing you.”

Isla’s eyes widen in disbelief. “Playing me for what?” she asks. “What the hell does he get out of pretending to be a good person just to date me?”

“Not to date you—he just wants to fuck you,” JJ says tightly, his crude words damn near making Isla flinch as she looks at him in hurt. Cleo purses her lips, but Isla doesn’t miss the disapproving look she throws towards JJ, who promptly ignores her as his narrow eyed gaze remains on Isla. “Maybe he’s just getting some kind of twisted revenge, I don’t know, for Sarah becoming one of us. Maybe—” He takes a step towards Isla, eyes hard and unforgiving. “He’s trying to prove once a Kook, always a Kook.”

The tightness in Isla’s chest intensifies to the point of pain, lips parting slightly as she gapes at JJ, a slight crease in her forehead as his words land like a slap. An angry JJ always knows the right words to say that cause the maximum damage, and making Isla feel like an outsider in her own friend group is a sure fire way of making her feel small. Pressure begins to build behind Isla’s eyes, but she forces the tears back, not letting them gather as she lifts her chin in defiance.

“We all welcomed Sarah with open arms when she and John B started dating,” Isla points out, voice surprisingly steady. She doesn’t want to bring Sarah into this, but she needs to point out their hypocrisy.

“Sarah isn’t Rafe,” John B answers tightly. Next to him, Sarah twists her lips to the side, that confliction still evident in her expression as she looks between Isla and the others. “She’s never thrown a punch at any of us.”

Exasperation and desperation form an ugly combination inside of Isla. “It’s not like you guys are innocent, either!” she exclaims, gesturing to all of the guys. “You guys have started plenty of fights with them for no reason.”

Kie scoffs, leaning back against the wall. “Nice,” she mutters, and Isla’s heart aches fiercely because, God, she had so desperately hoped her sister would be on her side, at least. But she won’t find an ally in Kie, and that fucking hurts.

“What do you want from us, Isla?” Pope asks, frowning up at her. “What’d you expect was going to happen after we found out? Whether we heard it from you or from anyone else?”

“I—” Isla falters breathlessly as she looks at each of their faces. Various degrees of anger, hurt, and disbelief still stare back at her. She knew this wouldn’t be easy, but the tightness in her chest is still uncomfortable. Her voice shakes despite her best efforts as she answers, “I expected you guys to trust me.”

Only Sarah’s expression softens, and maybe Cleo’s, upon hearing Isla’s words. Not the guys’. Not her own sister’s.

“Trust you?” Kie asks, that disbelieving edge creeping back into her voice. “You’ve been secretly dating Rafe behind our backs for months. You can’t talk about trust when you’re the one who broke ours.”

Isla presses her lips together. Despite her pain, she knows Kie has a point. “I was going to tell you when the time was right,” she informs them. “I just—I wasn’t ready for this before. I knew you’d all react this way so I kept putting it off.”

“You knew we’d react this way because you know how fucked this is,” JJ counters. His eyes narrow in contempt, one corner of his mouth peeling back in a sneer. “Out of all the people on this damn island, you chose him? The Goddamn prince of the Kooks?” he scoffs with a shake of his head.

Isla’s throat works, her jaw clenching. “He’s good to me,” she says quietly but firmly.

Pope shakes his head, staring at Isla as if she’s lost her mind. “He’s going to screw you over.”

No, he won’t, she wants to argue. But her gaze sweeps over them all one more time, and Isla knows that she hasn’t gotten through to them. Still, she wants to try. She owes it to Rafe and to their relationship. “He cares about me. He looked out for me before we even got together. He—he helped me when my car broke down. And when the cops showed up at the Boneyard party. And Kie, he—” She looks at her sister, whose eyes have sharpened. “He stepped in at the last party, remember? With Topper. He stopped things from escalating even more. Guys, he’s not as bad as you think, okay? A person can change.”

“You’re delusional,” JJ says sharply, and Isla tries not to flinch.

Sarah sits up, frowning slightly at the blonde. “JJ—”

“No,” he cuts her off, facing Isla with a tightened jaw, arms crossed. His cheeks are flushed slightly, angrily. JJ’s gaze is hard, unrelenting, as he says to Isla, “You need to decide; him or us.”

Isla stills—the whole room stills—as she stares at JJ with widening eyes and parted lips. It feels as though no air is going into her lungs as she chokes, “What?”

“It’s pretty fucking simple,” JJ snaps, Isla’s heart picking up its pace too quickly as she gapes at him. He cannot be serious. This can’t be happening. “You’re either with us or with him. But you can’t have both.” He gestures to Sarah. “She doesn’t have a choice because he’s her brother. But you started dating him—” He practically spits those words out, like they’re poison in his mouth. “Knowing the kind of asshole he is.”

“He’s not an asshole!” Isla argues tightly. “Can we just—please—” She helplessly looks at the others, and Isla knows that she hurt them with this, but pain lances through her at the realization that none of them are outright coming to her defense. It’s gotten so out of hand, so fast, and the panic and dread war inside of her. “You guys know me,” she tries again desperately. “I wouldn’t be with him if I thought he was a bad person. Why can’t we just leave the past in the past?”

“You can’t expect us to suddenly be all buddy-buddy with Rafe,” Kie says, frowning. “He’s never given us a reason to—”

“I’m giving you a reason! Right now!” Isla cuts her off, hand pressing to her chest and feeling her heart thunder against her palm. Her skin is warm from anxiety, cheeks probably flushed from the heat that spreads through her. “He’s been nothing but sweet and kind to me. I’m your sister—your best friend,” she adds, looking at each of them. “My word should be enough.”

JJ shrugs. “I don’t really trust liars.”

Isla’s jaw clenches, throat tight. “JJ,” Sarah chastises, her throat working as she looks around the room. “Look, come on, guys. This is getting a little crazy. I mean, Rafe isn’t some—some monster—”

“Of course you’d defend him; he’s your brother,” Pope scoffs with a roll of his eyes. “But he’s never given any of us a reason to think differently of him,” he adds. His gaze meets Isla’s sharply. “And I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can take your word for it.”

A rough breath escapes Isla, defeat creeping through her like an unwanted shiver. Her word isn’t enough? She knew. . . She knew they would react badly, but this? The pressure returns in her eyes and she drops her gaze to the ground, blinking quickly. Her chest is so tight, it makes it difficult to breathe as the hurt burns through her. To know her friends don’t trust her, that they aren’t willing to hear her out and see things from her perspective. . . Her throat dries, unable to swallow the massive lump formed in the middle of it.

She never thought she would feel like such an outsider amongst her friends. Isla knows she’s always had one foot in each life, Pogue and Kook, sometimes more so than Sarah. It had never been a point of contention before. But this has blown up far more than she thought it would. Maybe she was naive in thinking that they could talk and work things out—

No, no, she wasn’t naive. She had trusted in her friends, in the relationship she had with them all. She had thought that their friendship would be important enough for them to want to see and hear her side of things, to accept her relationship that she already had been hesitant in getting into because of her friends’ reactions. But Rafe. . . He makes her happy. So genuinely happy, in a way she’s never experienced before with anyone else. How can she let that go? How can she let any of them go? Is it selfish of her to want both? She didn’t think so at first, but now. . .

“Him or us, Isla,” JJ’s hard voice breaks through her thoughts, forcing Isla to look up at him. His gaze is still sharp but, God, she sees the subtle hope that swims in those blue eyes. Hope that she picks them over Rafe. It tightens her throat even more.

She gives one slow shake of her head, her voice quiet but defiant as she answers, “I’m not choosing.”

JJ’s jaw works, his chin lifting. Disappointment flashes across his eyes, mixed with surprise, but it disappears as quickly as it comes. He wants her to choose them, but Isla can’t do that, not if it means not having Rafe. In the same way, she can’t just choose Rafe but also lose her friends. She wants both—why can’t she have both? Why does she have to choose? What kind of sick ultimatum is this?

Shrugging, JJ says, “You saying that is an answer enough. Don’t come crying back to us when he fucks you over.”

Silence descends and Isla wonders if they can hear her heart pounding in her chest. Her eyes burn, throat locked, and she’s suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to flee. They won’t listen to her—not like this, not when the truth is a fresh wound. “Okay,” she whispers, clearing her throat after as she steps back towards the door. “Obviously, this has gotten a little out of hand.” An understatement. “We can talk again once we’ve all calmed down.”

JJ and Pope scoff at that and Isla tries not to flinch as her gaze meets Kie’s. Her sister stares at her for a brief moment before turning her head, effectively looking away, and Isla swallows as she opens the door. “Okay,” she mutters again before walking down the steps and away from the house.

Every step she takes away from the Chateau feels heavy, part of Isla wanting to go back and continue the conversation until they’re all on the same page. But hurt blooms through her chest, spreading everywhere else as her nose stings and vision blurs from the onslaught of tears. They way they all talked to her—the tones of their voices and the looks on their faces—was awful. Sure, she and her friends have gotten into arguments in the past, but never like this. They never belittled her before. Never made her feel so small. Her best friends, her own sister, were downright mean, and a breath shudders out of Isla as she quickly wipes away a tear that rolls down her cheek.

“Isla!” She freezes upon Sarah’s voice before turning around, watching as the blonde jogs up to her. Isla sees the paper bag in her hand and bites the inside of her cheek. “You forgot this,” Sarah says, coming to a stop in front of her and holding the bag out.

Isla meets her gaze, sees the way Sarah’s expression softens because no doubt she takes notice of Isla’s red rimmed, glassy eyes. Sarah’s lips turn downwards as Isla takes the bag from her, sniffling because she can’t help it. “Did um—did Rafe buy you the flowers?” Sarah asks haltingly.

Biting her bottom lip, Isla nods. “Yeah, he did,” she answers, unable to help the way the corner of her mouth kicks up slightly.

Some of the unbearable tightness in her chest loosens, just a fraction, when Sarah mirrors the subtle smile. It disappears, though, and her expression falls, a little pleading. “Just give them some time, okay? They’re pretty raw right now. I-I’m sure they’ll come around?”

“You think?” Isla asks. She aims to sound hopeful, but it comes out unconvinced. “Will you?”

Sarah is silent for a beat. “I think what JJ said is unfair. And I think I owe it to you and my brother to not jump to conclusions.” Her hand reaches out, and Isla’s throat works when Sarah takes her hand, squeezing it reassuringly as her soft brown eyes meet Isla’s green. “I’ll talk to them. It’ll be okay, Isla. Just—just give them some time.”

Isla nods a couple of times, appreciative. At least someone is on her side. “What happened in there was fucked up,” she mutters, lips turned downwards. She’s still angry, but right now, she feels more tired than anything else. A little too defeated to focus on the anger.

“It was,” Sarah agrees with a frown. “It went too far. I’ll talk to them.”

“Thanks,” Isla says, squeezing Sarah’s hand.

“Are you—how are you getting home?” Sarah asks.

Isla shrugs. “I’m gonna walk up to the park, I guess. Clear my head a little before heading home.”

Sarah nods, though her forehead creases in worry. Isla is mildly surprised when she pulls her in for a hug, but Isla welcomes it, eyes squeezing shut to keep back the new burn of tears. “I love you. It’ll be okay.”

“I love you, too,” Isla responds, her voice only slightly shaky as she returns the hug and hopes that Sarah is right.

*****

The chain of the swing creaks slowly as Isla sways back and forth gently, her feet scraping against the dirt with every movement. Around her, kids run around and play. In the distance, a group of guys play basketball at the fenced-in court. It’s late afternoon, so the sunlight isn’t so bright, more clouds in view, but Isla’s gaze remains on the ground ahead of her.

You’re either with us or with him. But you can’t have both.

Was she naive to think that she hadn’t expected the ultimatum? Or was it just faith in her friendship with all of them that had her believing that they would be able to talk it out and they would see where she was coming from? Not accept her relationship right away, but it wouldn’t have gone so horribly the way it did.

Now, away from them, Isla no longer holds back the tears that burn her eyes. They roll freely down her cheeks, a breath shuddering out of her as she swipes a hand under her sniffling nose. Her stomach is in knots, tight and painful, as she squeezes her eyes closed to shut out the conversation replaying in her head.

Her sister, her friends—these people she loves and has spent so much of her life with—called her untrustworthy, had practically insinuated that she was crazy for dating Rafe. Her head is at war, knowing where they are coming from, but also hating how everything went down. Isla could barely stick around to continue the conversation, feeling their words beat her into defeat until she has to retreat to collect her thoughts and wits before even thinking about broaching the subject with them again.

And. . . What? If she doesn’t break up with Rafe, will her friends stop talking to her? Has she really committed that big of a fuck up in their eyes? Why can’t they just see it from her eyes? Listen to her? Doesn’t she deserve that much? One relationship is going to be the cause of destroying a handful of friendships?

“Isla.”

A breath catches in her throat at the sound of Rafe’s voice, lifting her head and blinking away her tear blurred vision to see him standing before her. His expression is tight with concern, forehead creased and blue eyes flickering to look at every inch of her as he lowers himself on his knees, his hands on her legs.

“Baby, what happened?” he asks, squeezing her knees as he looks up at her so earnestly.

But Isla stares at him in mild disbelief, drinking in the sight of him as she asks, “How’d you know I was here?”

He rarely, if ever, comes onto this side of the island. He’s only ever been here for the parties at the Boneyard, or when he’s secretly given her rides to John B’s. “Sarah texted me,” he answers, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “She—She told me you told them and it didn’t go well.”

A sad scoff escapes her, sniffling after as she says, “I think that’s an understatement.”

Rafe’s jaw works and she can tell, easily, that he’s pissed off. But he pushes it aside, his voice softening as he takes her hands. “Come on. Let’s sit,” he says, standing up and pulling her off the swing. One hand remains holding hers, while the other grabs the bag of books and flowers, and Isla lets him lead her away from the swingset and to a spot in the park that doesn’t have too many people around.

He sits down at the base of a tree, giving her hand a gentle tug to get her to join him. She settles down numbly, sniffling as she mutters, “God,” quietly under her breath as she wipes away the errant tears from her cheeks.

The trunk of the tree is wide enough for them to sit side by side, his arm pressed to hers as he grits, “I should’ve been there.”

Isla shakes her head. “It might have just made things worse,” she says sadly.

Rafe loosens a rough breath. “How’d they find out? I didn’t ask Sarah.”

Exhaling slowly through her nose, Isla turns to look at him, her expression tightening. “Topper,” she says, making Rafe rear back. “Apparently he caught us at the hotel. Sent a picture of us to them, and God—” Isla leans her head back, looking up at the deep green leaves of the tree. “This was not how I wanted them to find out. He fucking made things worse than they could’ve been.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Rafe mutters, running his fingers through his head as he shakes his head, no doubt wondering about Topper’s Goddamn audacity. “So what—what did your friends say?” he asks carefully, looking at her with his forehead creasing in worry.

Isla’s throat dries as she thinks of their words again, her muscles tightening with the hurt that is still present—and probably will be for a while. She brings her knees up, arms wrapping around her legs after fixing the skirt of her dress. “They. . . They were pissed,” she starts, exhaling slowly as she stares ahead at a group of kids in the distance climbing around on the play set. “They feel like I-I betrayed them, and JJ, he—”

She cuts herself off, lips pursing to keep her lower lip from trembling. Rafe’s hand comes to rest on her back, his touch warm and comforting as he rubs her back reassuringly. It’s much needed, his hand on her, knowing that he’s right there next to her, right where she needs him. “What’d he say, baby?” Rafe asks gently, even as she hears the edge creep into his voice.

Isla swallows the lump in her throat, nose stinging and tears gathering as she blinks them away rapidly. “He wanted me to choose. Between you and them.”

“He—” Rafe exhales sharply and from her peripheral vision, she sees him shaking his head incredulously. “He gave you an ultimatum? That’s—are you kidding me?”

“I wish I was,” Isla murmurs desolately, eyes falling shut briefly. Some tears escape, but she wipes them away as the hurt remains frozen in the center of her chest, uncomfortable and tight. There are some other things JJ said, too, but she doesn’t want to tell Rafe, knowing it will only piss him off more. Or, worse, make him want to confront her friends.

He just wants to fuck you.

You’re delusional.

I don’t really trust liars.

Each word was a slap, still stinging right in her heart. Isla wipes her cheeks again, an elbow resting on her knee and leaning her cheek against her palm. “I told him I wasn’t choosing,” she continues, shrugging one shoulder. “I don’t want to—I can’t,” she shakes her head before turning it to look at Rafe. He’s looking at her with such concern, touched with helplessness and anger, and Isla’s lips tremble as more tears gather. The emotions of the fight fly to the surface, and in Rafe’s presence, she doesn’t try to push them back.

“I knew they wouldn’t be happy, but it just—it got so fucked, so fast,” she breathes out, her words trembling. “They wouldn’t even hear me out. Whatever I said just—it didn’t seem to matter and—and they’re my best friends. And they just. . . Didn’t want to listen. Even Kie—” Isla inhales deeply, trying to steady her breathing, but now that she’s given permission for the tears to come, they won’t stop. Rafe’s hand slides up, cupping the back of her neck comfortingly. “Kie wasn’t even on my side. But Sarah was.” Rafe takes in a breath at that, looking both surprised and relieved, especially when Isla gives a hint of a smile at that. It was probably the only silver lining in all of that shit show. “She said she’d talk to them and I appreciate it but they were—”

She squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head as their words echo in her mind. For a moment, she wonders if she’s being too sensitive, if she should have just expected all of this. Isla is at war with herself, fighting between logic and shattered hope and expectations. “They were what, baby?” Rafe quietly asks, his voice so soft it’s painful.

“They were just mean,” she says with a breathless, hollow laugh. And maybe that’s a childish thing to say, but it feels too accurate at this moment. Her friends can be crude and brash, but never mean. No matter what kind of fights and arguments they’ve had in the past, they never made her feel like this. Her friends have never made her feel so alone. “If I stayed, it just would’ve escalated even more and I just—” She shakes her head with a deep breath. “I had to get out of there.”

Rafe squeezes the back of her neck gently, reassuringly. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs, frowning as he shakes his head. “Do you—I can talk to them—”

“No,” she cuts him off, straightening. When Rafe purses his lips, unhappy, Isla sighs. “I appreciate it, I really do,” she assures him, sniffling as she puts a hand on his thigh. “But if they’re not going to listen to me, what makes you think they’ll hear you out?” she asks with a sad, knowing smile. “It’s just better to let them be for—”

For how long? Days? Weeks? Is this something they can get over quickly, or will it take time? Isla figures it’s the latter, but the amount of time it’ll take is a mystery. All she can do is hope that they all can come out the other side of this intact.

Rafe lets out a breath, nodding. “What do you need from me?” he asks gently, almost a plea that tightens her chest. There’s an intensity in his eyes and a crease in his forehead that tells her he’s desperate to help, not knowing how, but wanting to nonetheless.

Isla presses her lips together, the corners lifting into a solemn but appreciative smile. “Just need you,” she tells him honestly, watching as his expression softens upon hearing her words before he shifts, winding an arm around her waist, the other going under her knees.

She lets out a breath as he shifts her so she’s sitting sideways on his lap, resting her head against his shoulder as he leans back against the tree and holds her to him, his hand resting on her thigh, fingers against her skin. Isla swipes the back of her hand under her chin when she feels a tear rivulet, throat working. “God, I probably look like a mess,” she mutters, fingers then swiping across her cheeks as she looks up; she definitely has mascara running down her face.

Rafe tilts his head as he moves his hands to cup her face, turning her head to face him. He looks down at her, something flickering across his blue eyes as he no doubt takes in her tear streaked face, his own thumbs swiping along her cheeks. “A beautiful mess,” he corrects, grinning, and Isla knows he both means it and is trying to lighten her mood.

It works, a huff of a laugh escaping her as she rolls her eyes. Shoulders slumping, she says, “I guess we don’t have to sneak around anymore.”

Her tone takes a hopeful lilt as Rafe’s hands lower to rest on the sides of her neck. The late afternoon sun peeks through the leaves, bathing him and a spot of sunlight hits his eyes just right, making his blue eyes glimmer prettily. “You sure you wanna be seen with me?” Rafe smirks teasingly, arching one eyebrow. “I have a bit of a reputation.”

Isla breathes out another laugh, arms sliding around his neck and holding him close, her chest pressing to his. She pushes closer to him, the tip of her nose bumping against his as her gaze drops to his lips briefly. “I don’t scare easily,” she murmurs as they share the same breath.

Rafe’s eyes meet hers, flickering down to her lips before lifting again to lock gazes once more. Isla’s heart stutters as he leans closer and captures her lips with his, feeling a new kind of freedom as she earnestly kisses him back without worry of anyone spotting them—or, more accurately, caring if they do. She sighs into the kiss, muscles finally relaxing in relief at the closeness. Rafe’s hold on her is gentle, his fingers threading into her hair as her lips open under his, his tongue sliding in to dance with hers as he angles her head.

When they pull away moments later, Isla settles back against him, head against his shoulder and forehead tucked along his jaw. “I’m sorry about your friends,” he murmurs.

The remorse evident in his tone makes her heart clench. She knows Rafe isn’t crazy about her friends, but he wants to make the effort because he knows how much they mean to her. Isla had been hoping her friends would show the same thoughtfulness. It’s a lot to wrap their heads around, sure, but the conversation didn’t have to take the kind of turn that it did. And even if they did come around, would Isla be able to forgive them for their words?

She sighs. One problem at a time. “You don’t need to apologize,” she tells him truthfully.

Rafe huffs out a breath. “What I need to do is give Topper a piece of my fucking mind,” he mutters, an edge creeping into his voice. When Isla glances at him, she sees the muscle in his sharp jaw working while feeling him tense against her.

“He’s not worth it,” Isla mumbles, even if she doesn’t entirely agree. She just doesn’t want Rafe getting into a fight, though she has no doubt Rafe can easily take Topper.

“It’s ultimately his fault you were crying, so I’m gonna disagree with you on that,” Rafe says, his arms around her tightening a fraction, like he wants to protect her from her own tears.

Isla lets out a gentle laugh. “Gonna defend my honor, Rafe Cameron?”

He turns his head enough to press his lips to her forehead, Isla’s eyes fluttering shut at the gentle contact. “Damn straight; day and night.”

He holds her close, and she believes him.

38 notes · View notes

212-apricity · 1 day ago

Text

siren songs and stolen kisses, the runaway

ssask masterlist main masterlist

again guys, im really sorry if this ones a bit shit, i really didnt know what to write for this but i tried my best, hopefully the next ones a bit better💖🙏🗣️‼️

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

The humid air hung heavy over the yard of the Chateau as the four of us sat around, waiting for something—anything—to happen. Kiara and Pope were testing the winch to pull up the gold, Kiara carefully being lowered to test its strength, while JJ lounged on the side of the hot tub. I leaned against the Twinkie, arms crossed as I watched them, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts, none of them good.

"What do you think he’s up to?" Kiara called up, her voice breaking the relative silence.

"John B pulling a Houdini," JJ replied, his tone casual as he smirked.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at him. "Disappearing without a word and causing us all to stress? Sounds about right."

JJ turned to me, his grin widening. "Well, Princess, you’d know best. Houdini’s probably got nothing on you Cameron kids."

I shot him a mock glare, but my lips twitched in betrayal. JJ always had a way of making me smile, no matter how dire the situation felt. His hair glinted gold in the late afternoon sun, and his confidence was almost contagious. Before I could retort, John B appeared from nowhere, trudging into the Chateau without so much as a glance in our direction.

"What the…?" Kiara said, looking up in confusion as the winch brought her back to ground level.

"John B! Where have you been?" Pope shouted, jogging to follow him. JJ and I exchanged looks before we trailed behind, my stomach sinking at the determined yet furious look in John B’s eyes. Something was seriously wrong.

Inside the Chateau, John B began tearing through the place, smashing things as he searched for something. I winced as a glass shattered under his foot.

"Dude, what are you doing?" JJ asked, his voice tinged with both concern and irritation. His hands rested on his hips as he tried to make sense of the chaos unfolding before us.

John B didn’t answer, ignoring everyone as he stormed into the guest room which had been for years JJ’s (and now my) room at the Chateau. My heart dropped as he reached under JJ’s pillow and pulled out the gun.

"Whoa, whoa, John B, what the hell?" JJ moved forward, his hands raised in a calming gesture, but John B shoved him hard onto the bed. JJ’s hat fell off as he tumbled backward, and I instinctively ran to his side, helping him up.

"Are you okay?" I whispered, gripping his bicep tightly as he shook his head in disbelief. I could see the anger rising in him, his jaw tightening.

"I’m fine, baby," he muttered, brushing himself off. But his eyes stayed locked on John B, who was now storming toward the door. Pope tried to block him, but John B shoved him aside with surprising force, sending him into a table. Kiara rushed to help Pope up, and JJ grabbed my hand as we followed John B outside.

"Where are you going John B? What is going on?" I called out. John B didn’t answer until he reached JJ’s bike, turning to face us all with fire in his eyes.

"Ward knows about the gold," he spat, his voice trembling with rage.

The words hit me like a punch to the stomach, but it was what he said next that left me frozen in place.

"He killed my dad."

Silence fell over the yard. The weight of his words suffocated me, my brain struggling to process. Ward… my dad? JJ’s grip on my hand tightened as John B sped off on the bike, his anger trailing behind him like a storm. The others started running after him, but I couldn’t move, my feet rooted to the ground.

"Y/n, baby," JJ’s voice brought me back, his arms wrapping around me as I trembled. "It’s okay. It’s okay, I’ve got you."

"Dad… he wouldn’t. He couldn’t," I stammered, but my voice betrayed my uncertainty. JJ didn’t say anything, just held me tighter as Pope and Kiara came back, panting and confused.

"What the hell just happened?" Pope asked, running a hand over his face.

"We need to find him," Kiara said, her tone firm despite the chaos.

Inside the Chateau, we gathered around to brainstorm. Every possible location John B might go was thrown out and dismissed until one option stuck—Tannyhill. My family’s estate.

"Y/n…" he started, but I cut him off, shaking my head.

"Let’s just go," I said firmly, ignoring the way my stomach churned.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

We took the HMS Pogue and sailed toward Tannyhill under the cover of night. The moonlit water reflected our shared anxiety. JJ tried to lighten the mood with a sarcastic suggestion about knocking on the front door and asking for John B, but even his humor felt strained.

"Yeah, that’ll work great," I said dryly, earning a smile from him. He reached out to touch my shoulder briefly before turning his attention back to the shoreline.

Pope peered through binoculars, spotting movement at Tannyhill. "Hey, I see Ward," he said, his voice heavy with implications. He passed the binoculars to me, and I froze, my chest tightening as I saw my father alive and well.

"Doesn’t look dead to me," Pope muttered, packing up. "Let’s go home."

"Wait," JJ interjected, his jaw clenched.

"What?" Kiara snapped. Pope looked at her incredulously.

"We can’t just leave John B," I argued, but the tension between Kiara and Pope reached a boiling point.

"Hey, I have the biggest interview of my life in six hours," Pope said, his voice rising.

"And our friend is in trouble," Kiara shot back, her tone cutting.

Pope threw up his hands. "Why is it always about John B?"

"It’s not," Kiara retorted. "It would be any of you in this situation."

"Oh, bullshit!" Pope yelled, frustration clear in his voice.

"This is about friendship!" Kiara shouted, stepping closer.

"Stop with the moral high ground shit, Kiara!" Pope countered, his voice sharp.

"Hey!" JJ yelled, pulling me closer as the shouting got louder. "Guys, not now!"

Kiara turned away, muttering angrily. Pope’s voice softened but stayed firm. "This is my life. Everything I’ve worked for."

Kiara scoffed, her frustration evident. "That’s your priority?"

JJ and I stood together at the back of the boat, the fight between Kiara and Pope escalating before us. His hand never left mine, his thumb tracing soothing circles over my knuckles, but the tension between them was impossible to ignore.

"Yes, Kiara, yes it is! Look, you weren’t there for John B! You weren’t there for any of us!" Pope shouted, his voice cracking with the strain of his emotions. He glared at Kiara, who was visibly holding back tears. “Y/n basically left her family when she found us seven years ago. But remember your kook year, Kiara?”

“Pope, stop,” I interjected softly, but my words barely reached him through his anger.

Kiara looked to the sky, swallowing hard and shoving Pope away “Give me a break.”

“Hey!” Pope shouted back. “You need a break? Move!” He shoved her, frustration boiling over, and Kiara retaliated with equal force, pushing him right back as they both kept shouting at one another.

JJ stepped forward immediately, yanking Pope back with one arm. “Hey, yo, yo, yo! Cut it out, alright?” he snapped, his voice rough and commanding. “This isn’t the time for this shit!”

I caught Kiara’s arm as she stepped forward again, her jaw set in defiance. “Kiara, stop,” I said firmly, my grip tightening. She froze under my touch, looking between me and JJ as if trying to decide whether to keep fighting or let it go.

“Listen,” JJ said, his tone sharper now. “If Y/n and I are the ones mediating, we’ve hit rock bottom.”

Pope glared but bit back whatever retort was on his tongue. JJ jabbed a finger toward the bow of the boat. “Bow. Now. Go.”

Pope finally stepped back, muttering under his breath, and I gently guided Kiara to sit down. My hands were shaking slightly, my nerves frayed, but JJ’s presence at my side kept me grounded.

JJ leaned over to me, his voice low and soft. “You okay, Princess?” His hand brushed my hair back from my face.

I nodded, exhaling slowly. “Yeah… I will be.”

He smiled faintly, his blue eyes searching mine. “You’re stronger than you think, baby.”

I felt a pang of gratitude for him, for always knowing what to say when the world felt like it was falling apart. As the tension on the boat lingered, Pope eventually started the engine, and we sailed toward his house in silence.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

We dropped Pope off first, his parting words curt and strained, then Kiara insisted on walking home. I offered to drop her off instead, but she waved me off, clearly needing space to cool down.

That left just JJ and me on the water, the gentle rocking of the boat and the hum of the engine filling the quiet. The stars above seemed to mock the chaos of the night, shining as though nothing had happened. Wind gusted around us as JJ sailed and I pulled the sleeves of JJ’s my grey sweater that he was wearing earlier.

“What about you, Princess?” JJ asked after a while, his tone teasing but tentative. “Want me to drop you off too?”

I gave him a side-eye glare, though a small smile tugged at my lips. “Not funny, J.”

He raised one hand hand in surrender, the other on the steering wheel, “Too soon?”

“Just a little.” I squinted, holding my thumb and forefinger close together, and he mirrored the gesture, mock-serious.

“Okay, okay, noted,” he said, his grin breaking through. “You’re stuck with me then.”

I sighed dramatically, walking up behind him and wrapping my arms around his torso. “Guess I’ve survived worse.”

JJ chuckled, his laughter low and soothing, and he reached back to pull me closer. “Of course you have. You’re a Cameron, remember? Toughest princess in the game.”

I rolled my eyes, pressing my forehead against his back. “Thanks for earlier… for everything.”

JJ turned to face me, his hands resting on my shoulders. “Always, baby. You don’t have to thank me for taking care of you.” His lips pressed to my forehead, lingering there as if to seal the promise.

I tilted my face up, our eyes locking, and in a moment of unspoken understanding, he kissed me. His lips were soft and warm, and my hand slid under his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin as I tangled my other hand in his hair.

When we broke apart, he rested his forehead against mine, his breathing uneven. “We’ll figure it out, Princess.”

I nodded, my hands still clinging to him.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

The salty breeze carried the faint sound of waves lapping against the dock, a soothing rhythm that contrasted sharply with the restlessness in the air. We were sprawled across the wooden planks of the Chateau’s dock, the sun casting its last golden rays over the marsh. JJ’s arm was slung lazily over his knee, the cigarette dangling between his fingers as he exhaled a puff of smoke.

“Princess,” JJ drawled, his blue eyes sparkling with that mischievous glint I’d come to love. “You’re real good at this,”

I raised a brow, pretending to be unimpressed, though a small smirk tugged at my lips. Taking the cigarette from his hand, I exhaled a plume of smoke that disappeared into the sunset. “Didn’t think the great JJ Maybank could admit someone else is better at something.”

“Better? Who said anything about better?” JJ shot back, leaning in closer until our noses nearly touched. His voice dropped to a teasing murmur. “I’m just saying you’re good, baby. Real good.” I smirked before blowing the puff of smoke I was holding into his face, making him move away in surprise, almost falling off his seat on the wooden plank.

“Ugh get a room, you two,” John B muttered from a few feet away, his tone edged with annoyance as he fiddled with the edge of his cast.

“Or at least let the rest of us enjoy the view without your PDA,” Kiara chimed in, sitting cross-legged with an exasperated look.

I laughed, leaning back against JJ’s shoulder as he pressed a quick kiss to my temple. “You’re just jealous,” I teased, my voice light as I handed the blunt back to JJ.

Kiara groaned, while John B rolled his eyes and continued picking at his cast.

“John B, seriously,” I said, straightening up as my tone turned more serious. “Stop messing with that thing. You’re going to make it worse.”

“It’s fine,” he replied dismissively, the stubborn set of his jaw making it clear he wasn’t going to listen. “It’s just a hairline fracture.”

“It’s a fracture and a cast, dumbass,” Kiara cut in, her voice sharper now. “You’re supposed to keep it on. And you’re supposed to care about your body,”

John B groaned, clearly irritated. “I can’t do anything with it on!” he snapped.

“Maybe if you stopped breaking things—” Kiara shot back, and just like that, the two of them were bickering again, their voices rising in frustration.

Their argument brewed quickly, Kiara’s frustrations bubbling over as John B tried to defend his recklessness. JJ and I exchanged a knowing look, his smirk widening as he shook his head.

"Think they’ll ever stop?" I asked, keeping my voice low.

"Not a chance," JJ replied, handing me the cigarette. "But hey, I’ve got front-row seats, and the company ain’t bad."

I rolled my eyes, my lips twitching with amusement. The comfort between us felt easy, like we were in our own bubble while the world around us spiraled.

The argument (unfortunately) was cut short by the sound of footsteps pounding toward us. We all turned to see Pope charging down the path, his shirt soaked with sweat and his breathing ragged.

“Pope?” I called out, concern lacing my voice as I stood up. “What’s wrong?”

He bent over, hands on his knees, as he struggled to catch his breath. “I—” he gasped, raising a finger to stall us. “I ran… all the way here.”

JJ leaned back on his elbows, his expression calm despite the urgency in Pope’s demeanor. “How was the interview, dude?” he asked casually.

“Don’t… ask,” Pope managed to say, waving JJ off as he straightened up.

JJ grinned, clearly enjoying Pope’s frustration. “Noted.”

Pope’s face shifted into something more serious, and he looked between us with wide, urgent eyes. “Listen, we don’t have much time,” he said, his voice firm now. “Before the interview, my dad told me he had to clear the private airstrip to cut palms for Cameron’s plane. Said it was too heavy and needed a longer runway to take off.”

I froze at the mention of my father’s name, my stomach tightening. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Pope continued, ignoring my question. “While I was sitting there in the interview, I couldn’t stop thinking—hm, why would Ward need a longer airstrip?”

We all fell silent, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. Slowly, realization dawned on us.

“Gold,” JJ said, breaking the silence. His voice was calm, but his eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and determination.

Pope pointed at him, practically shouting. “Yes! Exactly! The gold. This is it—this is our chance to get it back!”

My heart was racing now, a mix of adrenaline and dread coursing through me. Ward had the gold. Of course he did. But if Pope was right, that also meant we had a chance to take it from him.

Kiara shot to her feet, her face set with resolve. “We have to go.”

JJ stood too, pulling me up with him. “Alright, Captain,” he said, turning to John B with a grin. “What’s the plan?”

John B looked around at all of us, his determination shining through his frustration. “We’re gonna steal our shit back.”

The energy shifted instantly. We moved as one, pulling together in a way that only the Pogues could. Kiara grabbed my hand as we started running toward the Chateau to gather supplies, John B, Pope and JJ’s laughter trailing behind us.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

The Twinkie rumbled along the bumpy dirt road as we approached the airstrip. Pope held the binoculars, scanning the scene. "They’re loading up the gold," he said, his voice hushed but urgent.

John B leaned forward, snatching the binoculars from him. "There’s Ward," he muttered, his jaw tightening.

The familiar pang hit me square in the chest at the mention of my father. "Let me see," I said, taking the binoculars.

Through the lenses, I spotted Ward, his commanding presence impossible to miss as he barked orders near the plane. But then my breath caught. "Sarah," I whispered, my voice trembling.

"What?" John B and JJ turned to me, their surprise matching my own.

"She’s with him," I said, my heart sinking as I watched my sister struggle against Ward’s grip. He dragged her toward the plane, his hold rough and unrelenting. Security guards hovered nearby, their stances making it clear she had no escape.

"She’s arguing with him," I said, my voice breaking. My chest tightened as panic threatened to overtake me.

JJ’s hand found mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. "Baby," he murmured, his voice soft and steady. He pressed a gentle kiss to my cheek, grounding me in the moment.

"He’s hurting her," John B growled, his anger spilling over. Before anyone could stop him, he was off, sprinting toward the Twinkie.

The air was electric with tension, every one of us frozen as we watched John B and the Twinkie barrel down the dirt path toward the airstrip fence.

“John B! Stop! You’re going to get yourself killed!” Kiara shouted, her voice cracking with desperation.

Pope scrambled forward, waving his arms as if it would somehow make John B see sense. “What the hell is he doing?” Pope’s voice was frantic, and his panic was palpable.

Beside me, JJ cursed under his breath, his grip tightening around my waist as he tried to physically anchor me—and himself—through the chaos. “He’s gonna ram it,” JJ muttered, his tone somewhere between disbelief and reluctant admiration.

“Ram it? He wouldn’t,” I whispered, my voice shaking. But even as I said it, I knew John B well enough to know that he absolutely would.

“John B!” Kiara screamed again as the Twinkie tore through the wired fence, the sound of metal crunching and snapping filling the air.

Pope and Kiara dove out of the way just in time, their bodies hitting the ground hard. I barely had time to process what was happening before JJ yanked me backward, his arm wrapping protectively around me as we stumbled. We fell into the dirt together, JJ shielding me with his body as the Twinkie sped past, kicking up a cloud of dust and debris.

My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of my chest. “Oh my God,” I breathed, trying to push myself up.

JJ stayed close, his arm still around my waist. “You okay, baby?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically serious.

I nodded shakily, looking into his wide, worried eyes. “Yeah. Are you?”

“Fine,” he said quickly, helping me to my feet.

We turned back toward the airstrip, watching as the Twinkie screeched to a halt directly in front of the plane. The plane racing at full speed towards him.

“He’s not actually—” Pope started, but he cut himself off, his mouth agape as he watched John B stationary in the path of the oncoming plane.

Kiara’s breath hitched beside me. “He’s going to get himself killed,” she said, her voice breaking. Her hands flew to her face, tears streaming down her cheeks.

I grabbed her hand instinctively, holding tight as I tried to process what was happening. “Kiara, he’ll be okay. He’ll be okay,” I said, my voice trembling.

But even as I said it, I wasn’t sure I believed it. The sight of John B standing there, a lone figure against the massive plane, was almost too much to bear.

Then, the sound of sirens cut through the night.

The flashing red and blue lights appeared on the horizon, growing closer with every passing second.

“Oh no,” Pope groaned, his hands flying to his head. “No, no, no, no, no, I can’t get arrested. My parents will kill me.”

“Your parents?!” Kiara cried, her voice rising in panic. “What about John B? What about Sarah?”

JJ cursed again, louder this time. “I’m on probation,” he said, his voice sharp and full of dread. “I can’t go to jail, guys.”

I looked up at him, seeing the tension in his jaw, the way his hands curled into fists. I knew what it would mean for JJ if he got caught—for him, jail wasn’t just a slap on the wrist. It was juvie on the mainland. Isolation. Months—maybe years—away from all of us. Away from me.

“J,” I said softly, reaching for his hand. He didn’t flinch away, his grip tightening around mine as if it was the only thing keeping him steady.

“Listen, we have to go,” I said firmly, suppressing the ache in my chest and tears in my eyes for John B and Sarah. “We’re no use to them if we’re in jail.”

Pope nodded quickly, already backing away from the sirens. “She’s right. We have to leave. Now.”

Kiara hesitated, her eyes darting between the approaching cops and the airstrip, where John B was still standing his ground. “But—”

“Kiara,” I said, cutting her off. “We’ll figure out how to help them, but we can’t do it if we’re locked up.”

JJ grabbed his hat and gun off the ground, his movements quick and deliberate. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice low and urgent.

I tugged on Kiara’s arm, and finally, she relented, tears still streaming down her face. We ran together, my heart breaking with every step as the sirens grew louder behind us.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

It was past 4 a.m. when we finally collapsed in bed, JJ’s head resting on my chest as he drifted off to sleep. I ran my fingers through his hair absentmindedly, my mind racing.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I reached for it, my heart sinking when I saw it wasn’t from Sarah or John B. Instead, it was a text from Rafe: "I’m sorry."

I frowned, confusion swirling in my chest. I texted back, "Sorry for what? Are you okay?" but no response came.

Careful not to wake JJ, I slipped out of bed and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

I sat on the porch, the weight of my thoughts growing heavier by the minute. The distant hum of crickets and the faint rustling of leaves were the only sounds accompanying me in the darkness. My phone screen glowed faintly as I stared at Rafe’s message, the single line burning into my brain. "I’m sorry."

I felt like I’d been dropped into some alternate reality where my family and friends were drifting further and further out of reach. My fingers hovered over the screen, scrolling through my unanswered texts to Sarah and John B. They were still aired, and I couldn’t shake the dread curling in my stomach.

My mind wandered back to Rafe. He wasn’t perfect—not even close. But he was still my big brother, the one who used to sneak me chocolates when Rose was on one of her strict “no sugar” kicks. He was the one who held my hair back the first time I drank too much at a Kook party and smuggled me into the house without our parents noticing. Despite everything, Rafe had always been there for me, protective and reckless in equal measure.

The distance between us now stung like salt in an open wound. I thought about telling him about JJ—how happy he made me, how he made the world feel lighter even when it was crumbling. But I could already picture Rafe’s reaction: anger, confusion, maybe even outright fury. JJ and Rafe were like gasoline and a lit match—one wrong move, and it would all explode.

Still, I wanted to tell him. To share this part of my life with the brother I used to trust with everything.

The creak of the screen door behind me snapped me out of my thoughts. I glanced over my shoulder to see JJ standing there, his hair mussed from sleep and his t-shirt hanging slightly off one shoulder. He rubbed at his eyes, squinting at me in the dim light.

“Baby,” he said softly, his voice still thick with sleep. “What are you doin’ out here?”

“J,” I whispered, my chest tightening with guilt. “I’m so sorry. Did I wake you up? You should be asleep.”

He padded over to me, barefoot and rumpled, and dropped down to sit on the step beside me. “You didn’t wake me,” he murmured, laying his head on my shoulder and closing his eyes. “But you’re gonna have to tell me what’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours, or I’m not gonna get any sleep either.”

I sighed, leaning into him and letting his warmth ground me. “It’s Rafe,” I admitted. “He texted me just now—just one message: ‘I’m sorry.’ And I don’t know why, but it’s messing with me.”

JJ was quiet for a moment, his fingers brushing lightly against my arm. “What d’you think he’s sorry for?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice cracking slightly. “We used to be so close, J. He was the one person in my family who I thought really saw me. And now… I don’t even know who he is anymore.”

JJ tilted his head, his blue eyes searching mine as he encouraged me to carry on.

“I wanna share things in my life with him again, I want to skip school and go to the mainland and shop with Ward’s credit card and piss him off with Rafe and Sarah, I wanna tell him about us, J. I know he’s…different now, and I know what his mentality is towards Pogues” I rolled my eyes at the word as JJ smiled softly, “But he’s still my big brother and I just…I don’t know, J, I just want him back. I mean, he’d probably kill you when he’d find out we were together though.”

JJ chuckled, his grin boyish and crooked. “Small price to pay for you, Princess,” he teased, but there was a softness in his voice that made my chest ache.

I swatted his arm lightly, rolling my eyes despite the knot of emotion in my throat. “I’m serious, JJ. He’s… he’s not in a good place right now. I should be there for him but…I don’t know.”

JJ’s smile faded slightly, and he turned serious, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Hey,” he said softly. “We’ll figure it out, okay? Rafe might be a mess, but he’s still your brother. He loves you—even if he’s got a shitty way of showing it sometimes.”

I nodded, blinking back the tears threatening to spill over. “I just… I miss him. I miss Sarah, too. And John B. And I hate that I can’t fix any of it.”

JJ pressed a kiss to my temple, his lips lingering there for a moment. “You don’t have to fix everything, baby. You’re not alone in this.”

The weight on my chest eased slightly as I leaned into him, letting his presence steady me. For a while, we just sat there in the quiet, the night wrapping around us like a cocoon.

Eventually, JJ stood, holding out his hand to me. “Come on, Princess. Let’s get you back to bed. I’m not letting you spiral out here all night.”

I let him pull me to my feet, his grip warm and firm. As we headed back inside, I glanced down at my phone one last time, my unanswered texts glowing faintly in the dark.

Tomorrow, I’d figure out what to do about Rafe, about Sarah, about everything. But tonight, I let myself lean on JJ, his steady presence reminding me that even in the chaos, I wasn’t alone.

And for now, that was enough.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

part eight done!!

im really hungry and i love jj

remember, taglist is open!! feel free to send me a dm or comment on literally anything💞💞

taglist: @harryssideboobz @onelonelybitch @jeyramarie @snowtargaryen @agnxstic