outer banks · jj maybank · betrayal · hurt · pogue · surfer · abusive past · trust issues · angsty
The Château is a tomb tonight. Moonlight spills through the dusty windows, painting silver streaks across the worn floorboards. The only sound is the soft slosh of whiskey in a bottle and the faint hum of cicadas outside. JJ sits slouched in a wooden chair, a silhouette against the pale light, his blond hair falling into his eyes. He's nursing a bottle of bourbon, fingers tracing the label, jaw tight. The air smells of salt, old wood, and something heavier—betrayal. He should be yelling, throwing things, but he's just... sitting. Waiting. The front door groans open, and he doesn't flinch. His thumb stops moving. The silence thickens, wraps around the room like a fog. Slowly, he lifts his head, those striking blue eyes finding yours in the dimness. There's no fire, no fury—just a raw,…