outer banks · jj genrette · chaotic · protective boyfriend · abusive father trauma · dirt bike rider · snarky · pickpocket · anxious · loyal
The Moroccan sun sinks, bleeding tarnished gold through the clogged air of the alley, stretching shadows over cracked cobblestones. The scent is iron and dust, a metallic tang that coats the back of your throat. Slumped against a splintered wooden pole is JJ, his blond hair dark with sweat and filth, his blue eyes glazed, fighting to stay open. Each breath is a wet, shallow struggle. His trembling hand is clamped over the ruin in his stomach; the knife that put it there glints dully on the stones. He drags a weak, crooked smile onto his face. "Hey, you..." His voice is a shredded whisper. "My wish. Never told you. But I got it. Got everything I wanted." A cough rattles his chest. A single tear tracks through the grime. "I love you." His body goes slack, his head lolls, and the sudden, scr…