~.🐚.''.🥥.''~❀˖ °⋆

                ALMOST A DECADE OF JJ SCREWING UP plans and yet—he hasn't gotten it through to him yet.

                   There's a tension settled over us. Not by Pope's angry words we agree with but with what JJ just did and what just happened down at the beach.

                    I stare at my slightly bruised fist. Purple blends with blue across my knuckles. My wrist stings. Been awhile since I punched someone. I'm almost disappointed in myself for doing it but it was Rafe Cameron.

                    JJ still has dirt and sand all over his tanned skin. Despite his injuries, I'm livid at him. So livid I can feel the anger burning in my chest. He used the last of our gold and he would've had it without Rafe but even taking the risk was moronic.

                     "I said it again and again," Pope paces the middle of downed heads we've formed, "I said don't touch the last of our gold. That was it! That was the last of our savings! Do you not care?!" Pope yells at the blonde boy I love deeply. Sand still litters my skin, my hair and clothes. My expression is stoic, too pissed and tired to even expose my internal feelings at the moment.

                JJ stands over his bike, waiting, inching to yell back at Pope. "Pope, you saw what happened, man!" JJ finally snaps, "He stole it, okay?" His eyes shift to me sitting behind Pope. My glare attaches itself to him, following his every move. "He cheated and he stole it. That's not my fault, Pope!" JJ continues. He's right like I said before but—that goddamn risk he took.

                        "Do you know how selfish you sound?" Pope roars back at him. "I sound selfish? I was trying to help us!" JJ counters. "You helped us? You just cost us everything! Thank you!" Pope yells in his face. JJ's gaze keeps finding mine. Silently asking for help but I'm not getting him out of this. This was his own doing and now we're fucked.

                          "JJ, why are you making it sound like you had nothing to do with it?" Kie sneers, arms crossed while he stands against the Twinkie. JJ throws his hands in the air, once again turning to me but I finally speak with a shrug. "Kie's right," I simply tell him. His face drops, a look of betrayal finding its way across his skin.

                         "She's right?!" JJ raises his voice but doesn't yell at me, "You know me, okay? I was gonna bet it all. That's who I am!"

                         "That's who you were before the gold, JJ! You can't be like that when we have a business, a home—a—a family to take care of!" I stutter out my words, biting back the venom my brain wants me to spit out. JJ rests his arms by his sides, scoffing at me. Guilt tries to slither into my chest. I swallow it whole. He needs to realize how fucking bad this is.

                    "John B and Sam—you knew he had it and you let him race?!" Pope now directs his anger towards us. "I didn't know until John B told me!" I explain. "Yeah, he told us last minute!" John B defends. Pope paces some more and I watch his muscles tense and untense. Poor soul got stuck with a bunch of dumbasses as friends.

                       "John B, look, man. You were supposed to cover!" JJ exclaims. Once, again, shifting the blame to someone else. I let out an audible groan at his words, earning a death glare from my boyfriend. "I did cover!" John B yells back but an argument breaks out between the two beside me.

                      We lost the last of our savings. JJ lost it. This property and our home are in danger. My head is spinning as my hands fly over my ears, dragging my skin back while the now, three boys, bicker.

                      "Hey, enough!" Cleo bellows, finally ending the bickering. I send a silent thank you her way and take a deep breath that rattles my chest.  "Yelling at each other isn't gonna fix shit," Bailey adds. "Exactly. How bad is it, Pope?" Cleo asks her boyfriend. I brace for impact as I look to see Pope's expression. Just pure disappointment.

                  "How bad is it?" Pope repeats, "We have a $13,000 tax payment due in seven days. And we have zero working capital," Pope throws up on 'O' with his hand, staring right at JJ again, "And you took the last of our savings. So, thank you!"

                 The reality of it all smacks me in the face again when I hear the numbers. I need to sit. I feel dizzy. I sit next to John B, anxiously holding my own hands. I watch as Pope bitterly walls away, Cleo following after him.

                            "You fucked up," Bailey mutters before she and Kie also walk away. "Fuck off, Perez!" JJ angrily yells. "Nuh-uh! She's totally right," Kie shakes her head at him and disappears. John B and Sarah don't say a word but the back door eventually closes, leaving JJ and I alone.

                      I stand on wobbly feet, stretching my bruised fingers with a quiet hiss. "Sunshine, I don't wanna hear it," JJ throws a hand up. "Well, you're clearly not listening and blaming it on everyone else. As per usual," I sternly state. JJ sucks on his teeth, "As per usual?"

                       "As per usual, JJ," I repeat, "I understand you were trying to help but it was risky. Too fuckin' risky and you took it without telling anyone—"

                       "It was Rafe's fault—"

                       "He cheated, yes. I decked him in the face for it. But you took the risk with the gold. Rafe had no idea. He was just being Rafe," I tell him, making sure he gets it but the stubborn look across his face tells me he hasn't. I inhale sharply, holding the side of my face, "You can't keep doing this shit, Jay."

                 He snaps his head up at me, eyes narrowed, "What 'shit'?"

                       "Acting like we're still 16 and in school and with nothing to lose! We have so much to lose and believe me, I'm not used to it still but its not fair to everyone!" As soon as I'm done speaking, JJ throws a rag onto the floor next to himself. "I love you and I hope you know that. Nothing can stop me from doing that. But this....this was fucking stupid, baby. And you know it," I wait for him to look at me again but his ocean eyes are glued to his dirty boots, "We want a future. One where our kids don't experience what we went through. Poverty, fear of losing everything because their parents can't get their shit together. And I want a partner that thinks...before doing."

                             "I did—think—"

                          "Okay, well, not hard enough!" I cut him off as annoyance burrows into my soul. A flash of enmity goes across his eyes but it's softened when they land on me. He holds his fists together, breathing heavily. He's taking a second to calm down and I give it to him.

                       "If you don't think I'm thinking about our future," JJ gestures his pointer finger between us, "Then why are you with me?"

                            My heart races, caught between anger and anxiety. The weight of his question lingers in the air, stirring a cocktail of emotions. I can feel my pulse quickening.

                          "Do you not want to be?" I ask after 30 seconds of shaky breathing. I almost don't want to ask, suddenly scared of the answer. An answer I haven't doubted in so long.

                         JJ licks his lips, "All I want is to be with you."

                          Tears threaten to cascade from my green eyes, down my pale, sand covered face, "Then get your shit together. Please," I plead desperately, coughing away a crack in my words. JJ's shoulders fall. He blinks away tears but the shine still remains. JJ gulps. So do I. Neither of us reach for a hug, tension still remaining.

                        "I need to shower," I finally mutter, wiping tears that failed to not fall. Bastards. I spin around, rushing inside and passed my friends. It hurts they don't check on me but it hurts even more when I hear the revving of JJ's engine before it slowly disappears.

                   FORTUNATELY, IF YOU GIVE A BARTENDER ENOUGH MONEY—you're bound to get drinks underage.

                    My second vodka and cran stares back at me as I swirl the ice. The blunt I chiefed prior to coming here makes my brain feel light. The vodka works through my veins quickly thanks to my low tolerance. The vodka doesn't even taste like vodka as I slurp the liquor from the straw. It's a shitty bar. Another one Weston used to visit after he'd hit his kids for being kids.

                         There's Playboy magazines stuck to the walls as decor, holes in the walls that are fist shaped. Probably where I'd be every night  without the treasure or JJ.

                        JJ.

                   A low groan slips from my lips as I remember the fight from earlier. I showered, answered no questions from our friends and walked my ass to the bar. I check my phone. The brightness makes my half closed eyes flinch open wide.

                  5 texts from Sarah. 3 texts from Kie and Bailey. 2 calls from Pope. 3 from John B and a picture of a joint from Cleo trying to entice me to come back.

                      None from JJ.

                     I don't have the energy to reply. But—I can't have them worrying too much. If they started to think I'm getting bad again—I'm screwed. My hazy eyes are glued to the screen, thumb hovering over who I should text back.

                   Fuck this. I close my eyes, tongue peeking out in drunken concentration. My thumb lands on a notification and I open up my eyes.

                 Sarah. Perfect, honestly.

                I sip some more vodka, closing one eye to make sure I get my password in correctly.

                 'Am alive. Am drunk.'

                   And I press send to Sarah with a heavy sigh on my chest. Aggravation makes me down yet another vodka cran. The sounds around me are amplified. Every move someone makes around me I'm either fully aware or completely unaware.

                     The stool beneath me becomes uncomfortable as I slip off, holding onto the broken wood of the bar to stay up. "Hey, another one, please?" I smile and slide the guy a $20. Let me make this clear—this money is from my savings. In case one of Pogues yells at me for dropping like $50 on drinks.

                   My knees wobble beneath me. The bartender's face tells me this is my last one before I'm cut off. God, being a lightweight sucks. It's cheaper though. I stare down at myself. My tattered black shorts and boots are still covered in the sand from earlier. "Ugh," I groan, forcing myself to look up at the ceiling. The cheap string lights make the bar a warm yellow. Has the sun set? I look to the side, seeing it indeed did set.

                   How long have I been here?

                  The third drink of the night gets slid to me. Don't people drink to forget? How come all I can do is remember when I drink?

                    The tension from my argument with JJ earlier fills the room. The reminder that we might lose everything because of JJ fills the gaps between my bones and skin. Vodka slides down my throat as I back up against the wall very wearily. I look around, seeing mostly middle aged people who hate their lives or are confused with it.

                 My eyes glance around the room, spotting a group of older people staring at me. I raise an eyebrow. Maybe they're wondering why I am the youngest one here. Or if I'm even 21. Or maybe they know me because of the treasure.

                     They stare at me before turning away and snickering. Oh?

                      Now, unfortunately, when vodka enters my system, the social anxiety leaves it. I step a bit closer, trying to focus in on the group as the noise gets louder and louder the more I drink.

                   "She's that Vernon girl. Related to Weston Vernon. The Pogues that found the treasure," A lady says. I can just make it out as I find myself at a table a few feet away from them. So far, so nice. I think.

                      Sleep would be so nice right now. But I'd have to go back home. Or.....Brandon and Justin's. My room is still there. It always will be. I force myself to pick my sleepy head up, leaning to the right to hear more.

                            "She's dating JJ Maybank, that drop out on The Cut. I mean, I'm from The Cut but without the treasure—he'd be nothin'. Lost the race today, too," Another lady talks her shit. I whip my head around but none of them are looking at me. I bite back my scoff, fists clenched. "Luke Maybank's son? Heard they're tryin' to get that property back. Those teens ain't got any clue what it takes to run a business. Especially a Vernon and Maybank," She laughs, her friends quickly joining her.

                         Bet. Truly. Bet. I check how much is left in my drink. It's a little under halfway already. Alright, fuck it. I put the straw to my lips, slurping until that annoying noise sounds.

                   I clear my throat, pushing out my chair with a screech against the old wood planks.

                     The bar slightly spins around me. Get your shit together, Sam. I adjust my hoodie, forcing a smile as I walk over to the group of women. Their giggling and words come to a halt as I place my empty glass on their table. Their gazes turn to me, a mix of confusion and concern. Just how I like it.

                   "How are you?" I grin innocently.

                  "Fine. And you?" The old lady who brought JJ up speaks. There's a ring around her finger. Small diamond. "That your wedding ring?" I point at the small silver band. She flashes her hand, giving me a view of her wrinkly hands. "Well, yes. 36 years," She giggles.

                      "36 years and you have a diamond the size of a pea?" My lips come out slurred. I can feel it. I can taste the vodka cran lingering in my mouth, reminding me of my choices tonight. Her friend's lips part as well as her own as they process my words. The woman chuckles, "Just because you're some treasure hunter—"

                         "How about you just don't talk shit about kids you know on the surface level?" The words spill out as coherent as I can make them, "What are you?" I lean into their table, knuckles white as I grip the edge, "70?" There's a collective gasp from her friends and nosy nearby people. The bar is spinning even more as anger makes itself known.

                         "Are you mad we did something with our lives and you're stuck with a shitty husband with a small dick to match your small engagement—"

                          "Alright, that's enough!" I feel hands on my shoulders, a voice I can't recognize and a grip all too rough to be someone I love. "Her old ass started it!" I stumble across the planks full of splinters. My boots give me leverage as I dig my heels into the ground, "I'm a treasure hunter! What the hell are you guys!?" A hiccup of laughter leaves my body.

                    It's blurry. So blurry. Everyone's eyes surround me. My stomach hurts. Oh, it hurts really bad. I'm so mad. I'm so mad at JJ. I'm so mad at old people. Dumbass old people.

                      I continue to wobble and squirm in the man's grip. How are we not at the door yet? Then a slight chill hits me. It's dark. The moon points and laughs at me. Please, give me a break. No one else ever has.

                      "Oh, come on! I can tell Shoupe on ya!" I challenge the man. I finally whip my head up at him. It's the bartender. Oh, I can so snitch on him.

                  I hear a car door slide shut. My whole body goes rigid. Even drunk out of my mind, I know the sound of that door. My feet reach the edge of the sidewalk as he pushes me one last time. "Be more gentle, jeez," I sass. The bartender groans again. His eyes shift to the left, the same way the car door came from.

                       My whole body moves even when I don't want it to. Sloppily, I turn and follow his gaze. It's all a blur. A big blur. I close one eye and unfortunately, I was correct. I knew I'd be correct.

                     "Maybank, get your girl—"

                      "I got her, Stew," JJ doesn't let him finish and his eyes don't leave mine either. Sarah is beside him, big brown eyes filled with concern. I fucked up. Again. At least it wasn't a bottle of pills.

                      Okay. Walk forward. Forward. I have to guide myself. My right foot moves forward and immediately and I lose balance. I brace for the ground but before I do, JJ's scent engulfs me. I'm annoyed to admit I felt a weight of relief roll through my body. "Jay?" I mumble, holding onto his bicep.

                          "Why are you wasted?" He asks, a slight harshness in his tone I don't appreciate. "I didn't appreciate that," I bluntly slurred, "Sarah?"

                        "Yup. I'm here," Sarah responds, standing in front of me, "You gotta puke or anything?"

                      Do I? I hold my stomach, looking up into the dark sky. "JJ, do I have to puke?" I giggle. He sighs against me, "How would I—can—can we just get back to the house?"

                  I snap my head down, looking at him and his hazy features. Ugh, so pretty. Why must he piss me off?

                       "You left it earlier. Before I did, even," I remind him. JJ's face drops. He presses his lips together. He's annoyed. Livid. Now we're in the same boat. He keeps holding me up, looking towards Sarah.

                    "Okay, Sam, it's almost 1am—"
   
                    "That's nothin', Sare Bear!" I exclaim, leaning my body into JJ's. They're annoyed with me. I don't want Sarah annoyed with me. I move away from JJ, straighten my body out and blink away the haze. "Sorry. Let's go," I start walking towards the Twinkie. I got this.

                       "Sam—Sam—you're drunk!" Sarah yells. Well, duh. I laugh at her obvious remark. "Babe—come on. Slow down!" JJ joins in.

                    Just for that, I speed up. The Twinkie gets closer and closer. I can feel the ability to sleep overwhelming me.

                     Until the world suddenly spins around me and my body hits the ground. The hard, cement ground. I just fucking fell. Good thing I'm so drunk I can barely feel it. Though, the blood rolling down my leg isn't that chill. Sarah and JJ are next to me by the time I roll over. "Fuck," I hiss as the adrenaline dies down ever so slightly.

                     "Babe, come on. Up," JJ gently but firmly tugs me up, guiding me over to the Twinkie. His tone pisses me off once more. I shimmy his touch off. JJ keeps his hand raised, clearly astonished by me. "Really? You wanna argue right now?" JJ clicks his tongue, his hand sliding down his face, "Babe, please."

                     "There's no reason to be mean, JJ."

                      "I'm not bein' mean. It's late. You need to be home and you're drunk," JJ sighs, holding me by the shoulders. My lip pouts, "You're being mean," I drag out the word. "Stop being a child, baby. Get in the van," JJ says more sternly. My gaze lands on Sarah. "I'm tired. Please," Sarah pleads with me. I gulp, glaring up at JJ through my lashes.

                        "I'm the child?" I scoff. "Baby, van. Now," JJ insists, jaw clenched. "No, no. I'm being a child?" I repeat, leaning onto the van. "Right now? Yeah. You are. If you wanna argue we can do it back at the house. Come on," JJ inhales sharply. "I'm here because of you!" I poke into his chest, "Because you lost what we all lost for—what Sarah's dad—"

                       "Stop," JJ cuts me off, "I'm sorry, okay? I'm fucking sorry. But you walked yourself here. You ordered drinks and got wasted! Not me!"

                        "You didn't even text me! Or call me! How'd you even know I was here?!" I start screaming the important questions. JJ drops his hands from my shoulders. Cold immediately wracks my body. "Sarah called me when you texted her. You forgot to turn your location off for me," He taps his phone mockingly, "Can we go now?"

                       "I can get in the damn van myself," I sloppily move away from him, using the van as a guide. I reach the sliding van door, quite literally falling into it. My back hits the dirty floor. I can sleep.

                  Sarah and JJ exchange words and next thing I know, Sarah is in the back with me instead of JJ. I sit up a bit, giving her room next to me as she gets in and closes the door. "Do you want a bag....to throw up in?" JJ quietly asks. "Nah, I'll throw up in your backpack when we're home," I retort back, earning a chuckle from Sarah but a scoff from my boyfriend. The van starts up with a quick rattle and then we're out of the parking lot.

                    I forgot how ass being drunk in a moving vehicle is. An involuntary gag leaves my mouth. Fuck, maybe I should've yes to the bag. A gentle hand belonging to Sarah caresses my back. "You want that bag?" Sarah quietly asks, already forming my dark brown hair into a ponytail.

                    "I, um," I look over at JJ who has his eyes on the road and nod a quick yes at her. "JJ," Sarah says and he tosses the bag to her. "Told ya," He remarks, slowing down a bit. My mouth salivates as my eyes roll so far I see my brain. I'm sure of it. There's something swirling in my stomach. Probably vodka and the singular coffee I consumed today. And the carrots. And the weed.

                      It's like I can sense when we're nearing home. My stomach can too. It becomes more swirly. Way more swirly. It rumbles throughout my whole body.

                  And then leaves my body. And into the bag. It's disgusting. The taste of bile and vodka cran coming up my throat, passed my tongue and into the trash bag. "Alright, you're alright," Sarah coos.

                    My hair is in a ponytail thanks to Sarah as I learn back. "Oh my God," I huff, "Is it over—"

                  Nope. Another lump of bile races out of my throat. Nearly onto the floor but Sarah swiftly directs me to the bag. I don't feel any more sober. I'm still drunk. But I can feel when JJ pulls into the driveway. The rough, dirt driveway wakes my senses up. "Are we home?" I perk up. Sarah nods, sliding the door open as the van stops, "J—"

                  "On it," JJ says, slamming the driver's door, shaking the whole van. Sarah and I exchange a weary look. At least that's what I think it was. It was a blur.

                     JJ's hands gently hold my calves. I squint one eye, focusing on him. My stomach flips when our eyes connect. The annoyance that once filled my chest fades for a quick second. Until JJ sighs loudly right in my face. "You ruined the moment—" I burp. Oh God.

                  I clutch my chest, "The moment." JJ sucks on his teeth, gently dragging me down the floor of the van. He's so quiet. It's annoying me again. "I can get up myself," I push him away. Not roughly. Just enough to get him away. "Can you? Your head is wobbling like a damn bobble head," JJ comments.

                    Asshole.

                  I scrunch my nose in anger, forcing myself to sit up straight. That hurt my head. His ring clad hands grip my thighs. His eyes lower, darkening. He licks his lips, inhaling sharply and looking up at the ceiling of the van. I take that as my opportunity to move past JJ. My feet hit the ground and the world spins around. The porch light keeps getting brighter and then darker. Brighter then darker.     

                    "Jay, she's gonna fall."  

                     "No, I'm not," I step forward. I got this. I take another step forward. My knee gives out. I don't even hit the ground before I'm suddenly lifted into the air and over JJ's shoulder. "JJ—JJ—put me down!" I insist, lightly smacking his back but this is nothing to him. He opens the door, the smell of our home smacking me in the face as Sarah trails behind us.

                  The mix of weed and cinnamon flood my lungs. My eyes snap open wide when I'm spun around to see all my friends in the living room. Deja vu.

                   "Oh, hey," I drunkenly wave. They're all disappointed. It's slathered across their faces.

                    "Do not, 'oh, hey', us, Sam. You were at a bar getting wasted? Hm?" John B sternly says, trailing over to me like the disheartened brother he is. I'm still slung over JJ's shoulder as I pout. I wanna sleep.

                   "Can I sleep?" I mumble, "And put me down." JJ groans but obliges. My stomach drops as my feet hit the floor, refusing to meet anyone's gaze with my hazy one. "I'll get her water," Bailey sighs, getting up. "She was tryin' to fight an old lady," JJ confesses.

                   Almost forgot about that.

                  "Sam, what?!" Kie remarks, head falling to her hands. "They were talking shit!" I throw my hands in the air. I lose balance awfully quickly though and JJ's hands end up on my waist to hold me up. "I wanna sleep," I mutter, trying to walk over to our room.

                   "Who cares if they were talking shit, Sam? You can't fight old women and get drunk—"

                      "I don't wanna hear shit about what I can and can't do, John B," I sass. I'm irritated. I'm tired. I'm done. "So, one bad thing happens and you're at the bars....fighting elderly people? Yeah, because that makes sense," Pope sighs but I can't even be mad at him. It's just not within my system to get mad at Pope Heyward. "Were they actually talkin' shit?" Cleo asks.

                     I nod a quick yes and she shrugs. "I believe the woman," She shrugs back, "But still, this isn't good coping." So much for her being on my side. I move JJ's hands from my waist, "I sleep."

                    "Sam—"

                   "Enough, John B—"

                    "Water—"

                    "Don't want it, Bailey," I slowly shuffle towards my room. "You need water," Bailey follows after me, "We were worried about you."

                   "Yeah, I know. I like the intervention set up," I lazily gesture to my friends, leaning on the doorframe of the hallway. John B pinches the bridge of his nose, "It's not an intervention."

                     "Great. Then I'm going to sleep—"

                    "We thought you tried to kill yourself again," JJ speaks up from behind me. My whole body feels like it's been shocked over and over again at his words. Words it looks like he wasn't supposed to admit because they're all sending him a glare now. My shoulders become tense. They think I'm still like that? I'm still that—unstable? My pessimistic thoughts came true.

                        "Is that just how everyone sees me? The girl who tried to kill herself, hm?" I ask with a scoff. There's a pause. One that feels like they've answered my question.

                       "No, Sam. We were just—worried. We don't think you're gonna kill yourself all the time but you walked off, angry and upset and hopeless. That's not a good mix for you," Sarah speaks more gently than the rest of them. I'm thankful for that. I turn to her, "I'm fine," And walk off into my room.

                  I swing the door open. My lovely bed that's covered in plushies and quilts calls to me. I fall face first into the mattress, my brain already drifting off to sleep. Until the door swings open and I already know it's JJ.

                      "Don't stare," I mumble into the sheets. "You told me I can't act 16. Meanwhile you just got drunk and nearly knocked an old lady out," JJ states. His footsteps get closer and then his shadow covers me. I look up at him, his arms crossed, he's biting the inside of his cheek. "I want to sleep," I bite back, rolling over to face the ceiling.

                   "Why the fuck did you try to fight the old ladies?" JJ asks with agitation. "Because they were assholes," I answer, avoiding the fact I was defending him because that'll be a whole other story. "How?" He bugs me again.

                      "I do not want to talk about this right now. I'm drunk. I'm angry. I'm tired," I begin to try and peel my shirt off. It feels too much around my body right now. I slip the black tank top off, fiddling with the button of my denim shorts. "How? I wanna know, baby," JJ speaks slightly calmer now.

                   I flop back with a groan at his insistence. "I just—if I let you take off my bra will you stop?" I bargain with my boyfriend. He pauses, contemplating it but shakes his head, "Tell me."

                 My hands cover my face. Do I tell him or just fall asleep? Fake being asleep? No, he'll know. He always knows. I peek through my fingers. Vodka cran still lingers on my tongue. Along with throw up. "They were talking about you. Talking shit about you," I admit. JJ becomes tense, running a hand through his hair, "What'd they say?"

                    "It was all bullshit. That's what it was," I explain, "Now help me get my shorts off and no funny business." JJ stops for a moment, staring down at me, "You still mad at me?"

                    "You mad at me?" I retort. He shakes his head a slow no, fingers falling onto the button of my shorts. I lift my hips, ignoring my headache, "Then, no." Even if the stubborn part of me says I am, I'm too drunk to fight at this point. He manages to get my shorts undone, sliding them down my thighs. He gets to my boots, untying them gently and tugging them off. I watch with admiration as he places my boots in the corner, right beside his own pair.

                   "You want my clothes? And don't say they won't fit, because they will," JJ raises an eyebrow, already rummaging through the laundry for a hoodie of his and pajama pants. What I would usually argue is already out of the window. So, I sigh and give in, letting him roll his Kildare hoodie over my body. I put the pants on myself, struggling a bit still in my intoxicated state.

                       JJ gets into bed with me, leaving a small gap. He's still playing it safe. "I'm not gonna barf on you," I comment, turning to my side. "I hope you know that I've never questioned being with you. Not in the—we need to break up—way at least. Only in the—you don't deserve me—way," JJ clears his throat nervously. My lip juts out at his words. Nearly three years of dating and both of us are healing each other still.

                     "I'm sorry for yelling earlier. You just needed to hear it. Maybe not so uh, aggressively," I slide under the blanket, wrapping my legs around his. "And I'm sorry for making you worry about me offing myself," I mimic tying a noose around my neck but he doesn't find it very amusing, "I'm sorry I gave you that trauma, babe. I'm still so sorry."

                 Their panicked faces are glued to my mind. The fear in Sarah and JJ's face when they realized what I had attempted to do. The feeling of puking up those pills flashes back. I clear my throat, hoping it fades away.

                      "I'm still sorry you felt that's what you needed to do, sunshine," JJ says, finally cuddling me, "Are you sure you're not gonna barf?"

                  I pause, tongue to the roof of my mouth, "As of right now, yes."

             JJ groans, getting up from the bed, "I'll get the trash can."

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i miss my non canon chapters.....i hope yall did too