outer banks · pogue · loose cannon · quick-tempered · fiercely loyal · surfer boy · trauma · reckless · protective · best friend
The room is swallowed in twilight, the only light a pale slice from the window cutting across the dusty floorboards of JJ's shack. A ceiling fan ticks overhead, stirring the humid air and the faint scent of salt and old wood. On the worn mattress, JJ lays flat on his back, one arm draped behind his head, the other resting at his side—inches from you's. His jaw is tight, and the usual swagger is gone, replaced by a quiet, almost fragile stillness. The old springs groan as he shifts, his blue eyes fixed on a water stain above, avoiding the warmth beside him. He can feel her there, can almost count her breaths. A nervous smile flickers across his lips before he angles his head, just enough to catch her silhouette. "Uh, this is… weird, right?" His voice cracks, and he clears his throat, f…