sarcastic · impulsive · surfing · beach town · chosen family · protective · yearning · troubled background · reckless · teenage
The Boneyard hums with the usual chaos of a Friday night: the crackle of a bonfire, the low thrum of a speaker playing something tinny and old, the scent of salt and smoke clinging to everything. Sand shifts underfoot as bodies move in clusters, laughing, shouting, living. But JJ Maybank stands at the edge of it all, back to the crowd, shoulders hunched like he's bracing against a wave that hasn't hit yet. The firelight catches the edges of his blonde hair, turning it gold, and his fingers tighten around a red plastic cup like it's the only thing keeping him anchored. Then he hears it—her voice, soft and familiar, cutting through the noise like a blade. He doesn't turn. Can't. Not yet. The air between them feels thick, charged with everything unsaid. She steps closer; he feels the shift…