𝟎𝟎𝟕.                          𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐞 & 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝

wings                        ────                     birdy

☀︎ 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐥𝐲𝐧'𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐯

𝖡𝖱𝖮𝖮𝖪𝖨𝖤 𝖨𝖲 𝖠 𝖭𝖨𝖢𝖪𝖭𝖠𝖬𝖤 𝖬𝖸 𝖣𝖠𝖣 𝖦𝖨𝖥𝖳𝖤𝖣 𝖬𝖤 𝖶𝖧𝖤𝖭 𝖨 𝖶𝖠𝖲 𝖠 𝖢𝖧𝖨𝖫𝖣．John B was Bird, and I was Brookie. You can laugh all you want, but I always loved the nickname Dad called me because he was the only one who ever called me that. John B gifted me the nickname of B, and Dad always called me Brookie── it's sweet, okay?

When I saw our nicknames scribbled down on a FedEx package, I swear my heart stopped for a beat. This must be from my father was my first thought because, as you know, he's the only one who ever called us Bird and Brookie.

We're back at the Chateau, and the package is sitting on the table, staring up at me and John B, waiting for us to open the damn thing.

JJ is making a sandwich── loudly, might I add. Pope is putting new pants on after he lost his as we were escaping the graveyard── don't ask. Kiara is the only one who is sitting at the table with us, waiting patiently for us to just rip the package open and see what Dad left us.

"That bread had mold on it three days ago," Pope says as he walks back into the room, now wearing pants.

JJ ignores him, continuing to butter the splotchy-green bread── I wish I was joking. "I'll just pull off the bad parts. Plus, mold is good for you. It's just natural organism." Yeah, whatever.

John B picks up the package, ready to open it, and I find that he's much braver than I. I do not want to open it as I'm afraid of what we'll find. I'm really, really afraid.

"JJ!" He comes rushing into the room, holding his mouldy, buttered sandwich.

"Let's do it."

John B pulls the tab off the package, sticking it to the table. I hear JJ gag behind me, and something of a smile touches my lips because, even though Pope told him about the mold, he still ate the damn bread. Classic JJ, honestly.

He spits the bread into his hand, disregarding it as Pope steps up behind me, leaning in close as John B begins to pull out the contents of the package.

John B unravels a map of the Outer Banks, and Pope points to a giant X scribbled in black marker. "X marks the spot." Above that symbol reads where the cut is, and where the lighthouse resides. A few coordinates are dotted on the map, and John B drags his finger from the X, reading off the longitude and latitude.

I pick up the package, checking if there's anything else, and I pull out a tape recorder. "What's that?" JJ asks, and Kiara scoffs.

"It's a tape recorder, dumbass."

I pass it off to John B, and he hits the play switch, and to my surprise── even though I knew he left this package── Dad's voice enters my ears. He starts by saying, "Dear, Bird and Brookie."

I didn't realise that hearing four words could bring such emotion to me. I exhale a shuddery breath, still a little surprised to hear his voice so close to me. It actually feels like he's right here, and I really wish he could be, but he's just on a tape recorder. I haven't heard Dad talk in nine months, so to hear this── well, it's overwhelming.

Dad continues to talk, and I continue to stare at the tape recorder like he's actually here, talking to us. "I hate to say, "I told you so," but I told you so. And you doubted your old man." It was easy to doubt Dad, especially when he spewed on and on about stupid, irrelevant things that meant nothing in comparison to what was more important. He often forgot about what was right in front of him── his two kids── but I'd still give my heart and soul to Dad just to have him back.

"I suspect at this moment, you're both filled with guilt and self-loathing over our last fight, but don't kill yourselves just yet, kids. I didn't expect to find the Merchant either." There's some shuffling on the recording, and while I wait for Dad to continue, I think back to the day before he left. John B and I yelled at him, begging him to stay and answer our nagging questions. A lot was said that night, and I regret it all, especially since those unkind words were the last I said to Dad before he disappeared.

I peer up at my friends who stand behind us, watching the tape recorder like Big John Routledge is actually here, but he's not. It's just his voice that speaks again, "You were probably right to call me out. I wasn't exactly Father of the Decade." No, he wasn't, but he was still my father, and I'd still do anything and everything to get him back. "What can I say, kids? I could smell the barn."

I hold my breath, biting down on my bottom lip to suppress the tears that are teetering on the edge of falling down my cheeks, creating a mess that I don't want to solve. I keep my eyes focused on the tape recorder, wishing that he could talk forever because I'd listen to his voice until I go deaf, I swear to God.

"And hopefully, we're listening to this in our brand new sugar-shack down in Costa Rica, livin' off passive investments and pulling on permits." That was our dream── that was always our dream for the future. The three of us, living a life of freedom and excitement, away from this. Sadly, we aren't listening to this tape in a sugar-shack in Costa Rica. No, we're listening to his voice nine months after he disappeared at sea, leaving behind us── two kids who adore him, and who just want him back.

"If not, and you two find this for less than optimal reasons, well, that's what the map is for." My teary eyes move to peer at the map as Dad continues to rattle on in my ears, "There she is, the wreck of the Merchant. If somethin' happens to me, finish what I started── both of you. Go for the gold, kids."

I exhale, an unwanted tear sliding down my cheek. In my peripheral vision, JJ looks down at me, and I feel his arm press against mine but I shrug his touch away, knowing that if he were to comfort me, I'd break into a million little pieces.

"I love you, kids, even if I didn't always act like it." I want to tell Dad that I love him── that I will always love him regardless of what he does, or how he acts sometimes. But I can't do that. He isn't here, and his voice is about to be cut off.

The last words I hear Dad say are, "I'll see you on the other side" just before the recording finishes.

Tears are running down my cheeks, my throat is tightening, and my chest feels heavy. I stare at the tape recorder, watching it, and hoping for more words, but it's ended. John B stands up, shoving his chair away as he moves to get away from this. The noise of his chair scraping across the floor makes me flinch, but I don't move from my position on the chair.

John B presses his head against the doorframe, and if I had any strength to get up, I would, but I can't go comfort him. I don't even know how to react myself, so I just stay in my seat and cry at the tape recorder, wishing to hear Dad's voice over and over and over again.

"He did it." JJ's voice sounds so far away despite him being right next to me. "Big John── He found the Merchant──"

"Can you..." Kiara sighs. "Can you please?"

My brother is sobbing loudly, and I'm trying to be as quiet as humanly possible but it isn't working, especially when Pope sits down, moving his chair so he's right next to me. I don't meet his eyes, I don't need to, so he instead places a hand on my back and urges me to move closer without saying a damn word.

I shake my head, crying a little more openly as my head hits Pope's shoulder. My arms fall limply, too weak to lift and wrap around him, so he wraps his arms around me── offering me the comfort that I can't give to anyone else.

I feel another hand slide against my back, and I know that it's JJ, trying to give me an ounce of comfort, and he and Pope have no idea just how much I need this. I appreciate them, and I appreciate Kiara a ridiculous amount for standing by John B who is just as impacted by this as I am.

I raise my hand, and JJ reaches his hand down, taking mine and holding it against my shoulder. Pope places a hand against my hair, whispering soothing words, and letting me cry into his shoulder like a child.

I don't know how long I cry, but at some point in the midst of crying and whining, I'm swept into a hug by my brother. We're left alone by our friends, and we just stand and comfort one another in the middle of our Chateau── the home we created with Dad.

Dad, come home soon. Please.

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𝖨'𝖵𝖤 𝖲𝖨𝖭𝖢𝖤 𝖲𝖳𝖮𝖯𝖯𝖤𝖣 𝖢𝖱𝖸𝖨𝖭𝖦，𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖭𝖮𝖶 𝖶𝖤'𝖱𝖤 𝖲𝖨𝖳𝖳𝖨𝖭𝖦 𝖮𝖴𝖳𝖲𝖨𝖣𝖤 𝖮𝖭 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖣𝖮𝖢𝖪．Kiara is playing the ukulele softly── so softly that I may just fall asleep with my head against this wooden post. JJ sits above me, and I keep seeing him peer down at me just to "check in" or whatever. It's sweet, but I really do feel better now.

I haven't cried like that in a long while, so I think it was long overdue.

"How much was it again?" JJ asks, referring to the Merchant gold my father found. Well, the gold we think he found.

"Four hundred million," Pope answers.

"Alright, let's talk the split." I peer up at him, in awe of just, well, his existence. I can always count on JJ to put me in a better mood, and talking about the possibility of having four hundred million does the trick. "Now, before you say "evenly", may I remind you that I am the only one that can properly defend us from those groupers who are after us." He lifts the gun he stole from the motel, and I roll my eyes away from him. "Protection? Not cheap, okay?"

"You haven't trained," Pope argues. "You've done zero training."

"Youtube, bro! That's at least a five percent bump right there."

To my surprise, John B passes his beer to me, shrugging in response when I silently question it. I take it from him, taking a long sip before I push it back into his open hands.

I move towards my brother, and I choose to rest my head on his shoulder, my back still pressed against a wooden post as my eyes flick between JJ, Pope, and Kiara who discuss JJ's insane choice to use Youtube to train himself on how to properly use a gun.

"What are you gonna do with your eighty-mil, Pope?" Kiara eventually asks, and I already know what his answer will be before he even answers.

He pauses for a moment, thinking of a response, and then he says, "Pay for college in advance. And also, textbooks. Those are expensive." Yes, I was right.

"What about you, Kie?" JJ asks, peering over at her, and I also think I know what she will say.

"Yeah, what does a socialist do when she's rich?"

Kiara breathes out a laugh, her shoulders shrugging. "Just wanna make a double album. About OBX, the Pogues." Pope chuckles, his head nodding. "You know, the way Catch a Fire is about Kingston. Record it at Marley Studio, Peter Tosh producing." Again, I knew this.

"Peter Tosh is dead," Pope says.

"I know, but the spirit of Peter Tosh will never die."

"Actually, I know what I'm gonna do," JJ speaks up, and my eyes shift over to him, my head still pressed against John B's shoulder. "I'm gonna get a big ass house on Figure Eight and go full Kook." Well, I wasn't expecting that. I guess I should've expected that, but I had no idea.

"You're gonna go full Kook?"

"Yep. Gonna get a marble statue of myself, and then I'm gonna get a koi pond." A surprising laugh ripples out of me at the idea of that, but I can totally see JJ doing it. "Put a bunch of those fish──"

"I'm never visiting."

"What about you, Brooke?"

I lift my head, and I look to my friends who probably know what I have in mind. If I were to ever be rich, there's only one thing I would do. "I'd buy a lot of paint supplies, get a load of easels and brushes and pencils and paints. I'd just draw and draw and draw until I get recognised, I guess." I look away, smiling at the idea of one day being able to show my art to the world. "I don't know, maybe I'll just buy a museum and display just my art. Saves being recognised."

JJ clicks his fingers. "Now there's an idea."

Kiara and Pope laugh, nodding their heads as they know I'd always do that if I was to ever be rich. God, being rich would be freaking fantastic.

I nudge John B. "What about you, JB?"

John B looks to us, and all he says is, "To going full Kook."

He raises his beer, clinking it with everybody else's, and we all chorus, "To going full Kook!"

We stay outside for a little while longer. We sit comfortably with one another, drinking and talking about anything and everything. We spend a lot of nights like these, discussing everything under the shining light of the moon. I love the summer because this is what our nights get to look like, and even though Dad can't be here to enjoy them, I really am grateful for the friends that I have. Without them, well, I'd be an entirely different person.

After an hour or so, the group disintegrates with Pope leaving first, Kiara leaving second, and then John B, JJ and I venturing into the Chateau to get ready to go to sleep. I don't feel tired, but the wind is picking up, and it's starting to get cold.

JJ is crashing on the sofa tonight which isn't unsurprising. He stays over most nights, only ever going back to his house if he needs a change of clothes. A lot of his belongings are already here, scattered between my room, John B's room and the main room. I have a few of his shirts on the floor of my bedroom── not for any kind of reason, I swear.

John B moves into his room, waving goodnight to me and JJ. When his door shuts, I throw myself down onto the sofa, pulling at the only blanket we have. I cross my legs, pulling the blanket over my shoulders as I lean back.

JJ sits down next to me, beer in hand.

He brushes his finger against my knee, and I hum in acknowledgment. "You feeling better?"

I exhale, cuddling the blanket around me. "I haven't heard his voice in nine months, JJ." I pick a spot across the room, and I choose to stare at it, knowing that if I looked at JJ, I'd crumble. "I wish he kept talking. I wish he just..." The emotion bubbles in my throat once again, just like it did when I first heard the recording. "I want to hear his voice again."

JJ places the beer down, and he stretches his arm out to rest across my shoulders, and I let him pull me into him. He doesn't say a single word, he just comforts me with a hand against my shoulder, and his cheek pressed against my hair.

My head buries itself into the side of his neck, and I inhale him. I've known him eight years, and I've found that he smells like the waves in the water. He smells like the wood holding up the Chateau. He smells like home── if that's even possible. I've heard that home can be a person, and JJ is that person to me, I think.

He runs his hand up and down my arm, soothing me. He doesn't have to say a single word. All he has to do is sit here, wrap an arm around me and hold me like this. My stomach twists, but not in an uncomfortable way. No, it turns in a strange, exhilarating way that I'm very familiar with. The moving in my stomach is the fluttering of butterfly wings, moving against the lining of my stomach because JJ── the person I am secretly in love with── is holding me.

He may not be speaking, but I don't need him to. I just need him here, aiding me.

His hand raises, brushing against my shoulder. His hand cups the back of my neck, his fingers moving against the base of my skull. My eyes come to a close, completely relaxed by the push of his fingers in my hair.

"Hey." His voice is barely above a whisper, and I don't respond, I just nod. "Why are you called Brooklyn?"

My eyes open, and I turn my head, peering at him. "What?"

"Why are you called Brooklyn?" he asks, repeating the question that I definitely didn't mishear. "Were you conceived in Brooklyn?"

I look away from him, shaking my head with a subtle smile on my lips. "How would I know if I was conceived in Brooklyn?" My head moves to rest on his shoulder once again, finding him to be awfully comfortable.

"Did your dad not tell you?"

I scoff, finding that ridiculous. "No, JJ, my dad never told me where John B and I were conceived, but it definitely wasn't in Brooklyn."

"So why Brooklyn?" he asks once again, and I do actually know the answer── I just like to joke.

"According to my dad, Brooklyn was where my mother was born. She named me, and Dad named John B," I explain, recalling a conversation I had with my dad when I was younger. I asked a lot of questions growing up, always nosey and always in people's business. I liked to "blab" as Dad would say, but he'd answer all my incessant questions until the sun set.

One time I remember asking the exact question that JJ wants the answer to, and Dad told me that my mother had named me Brooklyn because she was born there. I don't know how my mother came to be in the Outer Banks as I never asked about my mother much. She left when John B and I were three, and the last we heard, she was in Colorado or something like that. I have no idea what she's doing, and I couldn't care less. She left us, not the other way around.

"Brooklyn, huh?" I nod, still a little surprised that my mother came from a place like Brooklyn. She came from a big city, and somehow found my father, had his twins, and then ditched for greater things. Her loss though, right?

I pull the blanket closer, letting it fall over half of JJ's leg. JJ's arm lays across mine, his fingers reaching out to toy with the bracelet on my wrist. He tugs on the sun charm that dangles from the yellow band, his fingers delicately touching my skin which sends shivers down my spine, but I don't stop him because any contact from JJ is worth my shivers and flusters.

"When I get a big ass house on Figure Eight, I'm going to have a whole room dedicated to your art." I hadn't expected those words to come out of his mouth, but I'm beyond touched that he would want to display my art in his future Kook house. I don't say anything, I just press my face further into his neck, face probably red.

I clear my throat, moving my face to see JJ tracing his thumb against the pulse point of my wrist, his fingers still touching the bracelet. Something about this feels romantic── us sitting here, pressed close together with him holding my hand, and me resting my head against his arm. This feels like something we shouldn't be doing, but it's something that I really, really want us to do more often.

I'd do anything for more nights like these with him── the boy I love.

"You really wanna go full Kook?"

"I think so," he replies, sounding sincere. "It'd be cool, don't you think? We can buy the whole of Figure Eight, push all those rich bozos out, and turn it into our island."

I exhale a laugh, quietly loving the idea of us having our own island, away from the people that live in this damn town.

"I still want my treehouse," I say, brushing my fingers across his knuckles. "With a cat──"

"Called Wotsit," JJ interrupts, remembering the ginger cat I want to have in the future. I smile, nodding. "And I want a dog."

"Will you still build me the treehouse?"

"We could hire somebody to do it with eighty-mil each."

"But that's just wasting money when you..." I smack my hand upon his. "...can do it for me."

He sighs, and I catch a smile light up his face. That soft, gentle smile that I'm very familiar with rests on his face. His fingers still toy with the dangly bracelet on my wrist, snapping it back against my skin, but it doesn't hurt.

"I'll build you whatever you want, Sunshine."

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❀ soph speaks

writing is just meh idk

thanks for reading, appreciate you all<3

i'm trying to be a little faster with the editing and republishing but it's a slow process lol