𝟏𝟎𝟓. 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

dollhouse         ────       melanie martinez

✩ 𝐣𝐣'𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐯

𝖲𝖧𝖤'𝖲 𝖲𝖮 . . . 𝖲𝖮，𝖸𝖮𝖴 𝖪𝖭𝖮𝖶？She's sleeping beside me, as gorgeous as ever, with one arm tucked under my pillow while the other lays over my bare chest. I'm sitting up slightly, leaning back against the headboard while I just gaze at her in complete admiration.

Call me creepy── I know she will── but this is the only time I can look at her closely without her noticing. Every time she catches me watching her, her face turns a sweet shade of red while I grin. She can hide away all she wants, I'll always find her, much like now.

I reach a hand up, pushing the hair away from her forehead, eliciting in a small groan that has her stretching closer to me, her head now nuzzling against my bicep, using me as a pillow. I smile, continuing to move my fingers through her hair like it's the most satisfying thing in the world. Well, to me, it is the most satisfying thing in the world.

The tips of my fingers trace her forehead, knuckles continuing to move the hair away. She sighs, her eyes still squeezed shut, and the sound travels through me in the most touching way. My thumb then grazes down the slope of her nose gently, causing her to scrunch her face up. I pull my finger back, the corner of my mouth still tugged upwards as I can't quite believe that I, JJ Maybank, get to call this girl mine.

I've only ever done one right thing in my life, that's what I think, and it was asking this girl to me mine just short of two years ago.

Now look at us, engaged to be married.

I said it last night, I'll say it again.

I can't wait to marry her.

Seriously, if I didn't have to go visit my mother's grave today and figure out a way to get us to Morocco so we can get this freaking Blue crown, I'd be asking this girl in my arms to marry me right the hell now. Only issue is, I know the police are probably trying to find us, so we can't just go and get married. Though, come on, the cops are doing a shit job at looking for us because, hello, we're literally at our house.

Okay, I know we don't need to get married right this second anyway, not until we at least get back from Morocco if we even end up going, but I'm unbelievably impatient. A large part of me doesn't even want this crown, not as much as I want this girl to be my wife. Yes, getting that crown will give us money and stability for the rest of our lives, but I just want her, and I want her now.

She'd think I was crazy, especially because, for the first time ever, I think I can have the girl and the treasure. Although, saying that, I may have jinxed it. So, still looking to her, I stretch my arm out, going to touch the wooden bedside table to, you know, be on the safe side, but I feel Brooke stir against me, and her tired voice enters my ears.

"You're creepy." I told you.

Blinking, I find her staring up at me with a lopsided smile. I pull my hand back before I'm able to touch wood, and I go right back to pushing my fingers through her hair, feeling perfectly content to spend the entire day in this bed with her.

"Morning, Sunshine."

Her eyes flutter to a close again, head snuggling further into my arm as I comb my fingers across her scalp. "Morning."

"You're beautiful, you know that?"

"I think you told me a few times last night." She yawns, kicking her leg over mine under the sheets that saw a lot last night.

Last night was... well, you know what last night was. Blissful. Life changing. Perfect. The night didn't end there, not by a long shot. In fact, I think we've only had, like, two hours of sleep as we quite literally spent our entire night making up for all the times we would've spent in our bed had we not been kidnapped. Safe to say we also made up for future moments that won't occur as we have to get this crown.

Fuck this crown. It's ruining my life already.

Whatever. The minute I have my hands on it, mine and Brooke's life is sealed. We'll first start by saving Poguelandia because, hello, this is our home. I'm then marrying the hell out of her before we take our surf trip as I want to tell just about everybody we come across that she is my wife. Once we explore the entire world for a few years, exhausting ourselves to the point of insanity, we'll return and do the rest── the adult stuff that leads to screaming babies and getting fucking old.

I can't wait. I really, really can't wait.

The fact is, very soon, I'm going to call her my wife. She's going to be Brooklyn Maybank which, in itself, sounds perfect.

I want to marry her right the hell now.

"Hey, you freaks!" There's a pounding on the door before it's shoved open by... Emory. "Oh, good. You're done fucking." She yanks the shell off the door, scrunching her face up at us from where she stands, and I feel painfully awkward as I now know that she is my sister. This feels wrong, like I've been caught doing a bad thing by a parent when I'm completely dressed and not... well, you know. "Seriously, did y'all have a second to stop? It was just constant on and on and──"

"Okay!" Brooke shouts, holding her hand up.

Thankfully, before we both passed out, we actually forced ourselves into pjs just in case somebody walked in. I had hoped that nobody would just walk in, of course, but Emory has always been impatient.

Another similarity between us, I guess.

"Come on, dude, we gotta get going." She claps her hand against the shell. "You're the one who wanted me to come, so get your ass up."

"Yep. " I nod, though I make no attempt to get up. "I'll get right on that."

"You're not funny. Come on!" Emory throws the shell into the room, probably wanting one of us to catch it but she miscalculates and somehow, and I can't even explain how, she throws it straight into the fucking mirror, missing us completely. Brooke flinches, gasping when it cracks, the glass beginning to fall away. "Ooh, shit."

My head falls back, jaw ticked. "What is it with you and mirrors?" I ask as she's smashed the bathroom mirror and now our mirror.

"What was──" Kiara peers into our room, finding us to each be staring at mine and Brooke's now smashed mirror that also saw a little too much last night. It's almost like Emory knew and thought it necessary to smash the damn thing. "You smashed another mirror?"

"I didn't do it on purpose," she argues, beginning to step away from the doorway, holding her hands up defensively. "Sorry!"

Kiara pushes her out of the room. "Come on." I hear both of them laugh, obviously finding Emory's act of morning violence funny. Before, when I didn't know she was my sister, she annoyed me, sure, but it was bearable. Now, however, I fear she's starting to be insufferable.

"Come on, JJ!" she shouts, still a hint of amusement in her voice as I look to the shattered mirror, sighing. It's a shame, really. Brooke and I had a lot of fun watching each other in that thing last night. Now it's all... broke.

"Seven years of bad luck," Brooke mutters.

"For who? Us or Em?"

"Probably all three of us knowing our luck." My girl is so not a morning person but I find it sweet just how grouchy she is. She'd kick my ass if I said that out loud. She shoves the sheets away, groaning loudly. "She smashed the mirror. Seriously?"

"Well, we're not exactly innocent when it comes to smashing shit, Sunny." Brooke and I went above and beyond, going to extreme lengths to smash glass and burn shit, so Emory smashing two mirrors in the span of a week ain't all that bad. I just wish it hadn't been our mirror, you know?

"You two are more alike than you realise," she grumbles, pulling herself out of bed.

I frown, hating that her warmth is no longer beside me. "Hey, where you going?"

"To piss," she mumbles, going to grab whatever underwear and clothes her hands can grasp as she passes the dresser, stepping over the cracked pieces of glass on the floor. "Fuck sake." More curse words fall past her lips as she manoeuvres out of the room, careful not to step on the glass.

She owes Matilda, like, eight bucks.

Just as she reaches the door, I call out, "Come back to bed." I lean back, stretching my arm out to her side, desperate to pull her back into me.

"No. You need to get up. You're spending the day with your..." She leans against the doorframe, dragging a hand over her tired face. "...family." The minute the word leaves her mouth, she knows it doesn't sound right. Sure, I'd consider Emory family after all this time of being friends, but Groff is just... there, I don't know. I'm unsure what to think yet, but today I'll come face to face with what kind of man he is.

"You're my family, angel."

"How sweet." She turns away, just about ready to leave me. "Get dressed."

Reluctantly and very slowly, I do as told. Once changed into more suitable clothes, I decide to be a good fiancé by sweeping the broken shards of glass from the floor, uttering a quiet, "Rest in peace" to the mirror that did wonders last night. At least it had one final hurrah before it was brutally eviscerated by Emory.

I pass by the bathroom once I've cleaned the glass from the floor, noticing that Matilda now stands in the bathroom with Brooke who I find is dressed in my clothes, looking downright edible which is so not appropriate to think when she's braiding a little girl's hair.

Last night, in between small breaks, we actually did talk, I swear. I told her how my conversation with Emory went── strange, emotional and sweet. She then told me about Matilda and how she admitted to running away. Supposedly, DCS are looking for her, and if they know about her being here, it's safe to say that we're completely screwed. Brooke doesn't know what to do, but I know she doesn't want to just hand her off to DCS, though John B thinks she needs to think practically as Matilda is a child. Technically, while she's been here a lot, she's not our responsibility, and we can't be in charge of what happens to her.

This kid has school, and while school sucks, she has to go. She has to make friends, has to branch out and stay away from us as our lives are not safe for anyone, much less a kid. While she looks like she can handle her own, I'd hate to put Matilda in harm's way.

Don't get me wrong, I can understand Brooke's hesitance. Matilda came into her life when she needed somebody, when she was feeling low and she looked to the light and found a little girl who, I think, has literally changed her life. I know Brooke can't, in good conscience, just give up on her, and I'd hate to see her just give up, so if she's determined to find a way to get Matilda out of being taken by foster care, I trust that she'll find a way.

I'll help in any way I can, obviously, but I do agree with John B on being practical about Matilda as, like he said, she's not our kid, so she's technically not our responsibility even if I care for the kid a great deal. She's not just changed Brooke's life, I think she's changed mine, and I barely know the kid. Her presence alone is just... a breath of fresh air, I think.

I wave to Matilda before I go to dispose of the glass, finding Emory to be grinning on the sofa. "Where's Groff?" I ask, ignoring the fact that she's still laughing about the mirror.

"Dead, hopefully," she replies morbidly.

I sigh, knowing I'll get nothing useful out of her. I instead step out of the house, going to the Twinkie where I find John B. "You ready?" he asks, clapping his hand over mine once I greet him.

I shrug, looking to my best friend. "Think so."

"You'll be fine, man. You've got Em, she'll, uh..." He peers past me, his eyes going to his wife who is walking over to us with Kiara following behind her. He thinks I'm sickeningly in love with Brooke, well, he should see the way he watches Sarah.

If Brooke and I are anywhere close to how happy they are, I'll be very happy man. Seriously, they're the first couple I think I ever admired, and now I'm in a picture-perfect relationship with the love of my life── with my future wife. I want to have what Sarah and John B have, I really do, and I think Brooke and me are basically right there, we just gotta get married.

"We're gonna get out of your hair," John B says, not looking at me as he speaks, still entirely focused on Sarah. "Give you and Em some space, you know?"

Sarah nods, passing by me and straight to John B where she slides her hand in his. "Yeah."

"We'll see you later, okay?" I nod, watching John B and Sarah walk off, so totally infatuated by one another, acting all gross and couple-y. Only Brooke and I look sweet when all loved up and couple-y, I swear.

They wave some lame goodbyes to us, insisting that they have an errand to run, but we all know what that's fucking code for. Whatever. It's fine. I never thought they'd tag along to my mother's grave, not when I asked Emory to join me.

I exhale a breath. "Who's gonna stay here?"

"Isn't Brooke staying?" Kiara asks, coming to stand beside me.

My eyebrows furrow. "Aren't you?"

"No. I'm gonna go check in on my parents, and also see Emory's... dad." I huff out a laugh, knowing that nobody knows what to say now.

In Emory's case, though, it's safe to say that she doesn't consider Groff her dad. In fact, last night, after the booze finally kicked in, she called him a sperm donor, so... yeah. For me, I know that Luke is my dad, but I didn't have the kind of dad that Emory had growing up, so have I looked at Groff and questioned what it could be like if I considered him a dad? Yeah. Can you blame me? Emory and I were brought up differently, so we naturally have different opinions. That's fine.

"So Brooke is alone?" Not sure if I like the idea of her being alone, not when the cops might actually do their jobs and stop by to try and find us.

"She's not alone." I spin around, met by another short menace (after Emory). "I'm here."

Brooke and Emory are walking out of the house, talking amongst themselves. I take a second to do some more morning admiring of my fiancée, finding her to be wearing one of my many shirts with a pair of denim shorts, her battered Converses covering her feet. She's beautiful, unbelievably so, and the sun is entirely on her side today, like everyday, shining brightly on the girl I refer to as Sunshine.

Snapping my attention off her, I look down to Matilda who stares up at me, hands on her hips like she wants to tell me off── for what, I don't know, but she's oddly scary. "You gonna stay here? Help Brooke pack?" I ask, leaning against the Twinkie.

She nods firmly. "Yup. You're going to Morocco."

With us going to Morocco, who the hell is going to look after Matilda? Obviously, she can't come with us, that would be insane, but if she were to stay here, she'd either starve to death due to the lack of food in this house or be caught by DCS or police, so I haven't got a clue how we're going to work around the child issue.

She kick me if I just called her a "child issue".

"JJ!" I look away from Matilda, peering across the grass to find Groff walking in our direction.

Emory and Brooke join us, Emory immediately placing her arm around Kiara's back. "Ah, good. Daddy dearest is here." I think she pretends to be gag which is just a classic Emory thing to do.

"Well, you guys have fun," Kiara jokes, nudging Emory.

Emory leans her head into Kiara's shoulder, groaning. "Don't know how much fun one can have at a graveyard, babe, but we'll try."

"Right. Well, you'll be fine."

Brooke steps towards me, pulling my attention off Groff so I can focus on her. She slides her arms around me, peering up at me with the prettiest smile. "If you need anything, just have Em call, okay?" My phone was lost somewhere in the midst of my crash out, but Brooke left hers here which was smart. If I need to call her, I'll have to use Emory's phone. "You're going to be fine." She leans up, pushing her lips against mine. "I love you."

I squeeze her hip. "I love you, Sunshine."

I go to kiss her again only to be interrupted by the child. "Have fun." Her nose scrunches, head shaking. "Well, not fun, but..." She doesn't know what to say, and I laugh, instead holding my hand up so she doesn't have to speak, she just has to clap my hand.

"Thanks, Tills. Stay safe, okay? Both of you." I look to Brooke, feeling some anxiety for leaving her alone. Sorry, she's with Matilda, I know, but the cops may show up and take both of them. "The cops might──"

"I'll handle it," she assures. "Just go and..." Her hand touches my face. "...see your mother, okay?"

Right. I'm visiting my mother's grave. After all this time of not knowing who my mother was, I'm going to see her, though it's under circumstances that are not ideal. It's a shame I didn't know her when she was alive as, from what I've heard, she was a good woman. It saddens me that I never knew her, that she never got to see me as this, but I haven't explicitly stated that.

"Remember you're, you know, wanted by the cops too so you be careful," she jabs, kissing me a final time before she steps back, slotting her hand into Matilda's.

Groff joins us, and I catch Emory tense beside me, her body sliding away from Kiara's. "Groff," she greets, disdain dripping in her tone that she attempts to hide through fake excitement.

He nods, smile tight-lipped. "Emory. I-I'm glad you're coming with us."

"Yep." I know she's rolling her eyes and I don't even have to look at her. "Let's do this, family." I catch her literally shivering upon saying that, and now it's my turn to roll my eyes.

"Let's," I repeat, winking at Brooke. "Bye, guys."

"Bye!" Matilda waves, even smiling at Groff who barely gives the girl a glance, instead looking to Brooke. I still think he's confused about Matilda, though he's got to know that this is kid is not ours. Like, he doesn't need to worry. He ain't a grandfather or anything.

He focuses on Brooke instead. "Brooke, you're not joining us?"

She shakes her head, hand seeming to tighten in Matilda's, but I might just be seeing things. "No, we're gonna stay here and, you know, pack." We've gotta get out of here, so naturally we need somebody to hang back and do the packing job. While I'd love to have Brooke join, I know she'll be okay here. Besides, I'm not alone. Emory is going to be with me.

I just hope the police don't show. That would be the worst case scenario.

"Well," Groff sighs. "That's a shame."

Brooke's eyes narrow, a heavy breath releasing from within. "Yep. You should bond with your... kids, don't you think?"

Groff casts a glance at me and Emory. "Y-Yeah, you're right. I-I should."

"Yep," Kiara chimes, tilting her head towards Emory. "You'll be fine, alright?"

"Oh, yeah. 'Cause family outings never go wrong, do they?"

This is gonna be fine.

──────────────────────────

𝖤𝖬𝖮𝖱𝖸 𝖨𝖲 𝖥𝖱𝖨𝖦𝖧𝖳𝖤𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦．From the moment I met her nearly two years ago to now, one thing about Emory Throne has always stuck. She is fucking terrifying when she wants to be, and she lets just about everybody know, including our father who, since getting in the Twinkie, she's already threatened with the knife she just had to bring.

We've been driving for some time, a somewhat awkward silence hanging over us as we drive to the family plot where my mother's grave is. I'm nervous, I don't know why. Maybe it has something to do with the frightening presence in the backseat, I don't know.

Inviting her, I realise, may have been a mistake. Well, not a mistake, that's too harsh. I just mean that she's being a little too cautious without even giving the situation a chance. Groff is just as much my dad as he is hers, so she should try and give him some kind of chance, right? That's why I invited her── so not only we could get used to this idea of being siblings, but so her and Groff could come to some kind of, I don't know, understanding, if that's possible.

"It's just you and me, kid..." I furrow my eyebrows, realising he only said kid. He clears his throat, looking over his shoulder at Emory who is carving her initials into the back of my seat with her pocket knife. "Kids," he corrects, chuckling. "Sorry, I-I'm, uh, not used to saying it."

"Hm," Emory hums, and our eyes meet in the rear view mirror. Shockingly, I think I can read what she's saying. You know, like when John B and Brooke can just look at one another and know what the other is thinking.

Although, the longer we look at one another, I'm ninety percent sure she's telling me to fuck off.

"I feel like a new man," Groff admits, bringing my attention away from Emory. "Look at you both."

"Breathtaking, aren't we?" Emory whistles, and I hear her knife scrape against the seat in the back, sending a literal chill down my spine. "Must've gotten our good looks from our mothers, huh?"

I scrunch my face up, seriously wishing there was some kind of off switch with Emory as she literally does not think before she speaks. Her mouth moves too fast, not giving her head anytime to actually process her words.

Groff doesn't respond, not that I can blame him. What does one say to that? While I focus on driving, he looks out the window, shifting in his seat. He clears his throat, obviously needing to shift away from Emory's comment. "I grew up right down there," he tells.

I follow his gaze for a moment while I drive, and I scoff. "You lived on the Cut? You were a Pogue?"

"My dad owned the inn," he adds. "A little of both, maybe." He nods along, glancing at Emory who is heavily focused on carving a hole in the back of my seat. "I met your, um... your mother at the inn, uh, Emory."

"Cool," she deadpans.

Groff sniffles, turning back to look out the front window. "I then married a Genrette... and moved to Blackstone."

I hear Emory humming behind me, likely to the tune that is currently playing through radio. House of the Rising Sun by The Animals echos loudly, cutting into a verse that has Groff singing beside me which, shockingly, brings a smile out of me as this feels... nice, I don't know. Although, I don't think the same can be said by Emory who comes to a halt entirely.

She's looking to Groff, mouth slightly agape, and the moment his eyes greet hers, she looks away, continuing to scrape her knife against the seat. I can't even begin to understand what she's thinking or feeling, only knowing that she is not a fan of Groff. Though I wish she'd give him something of a chance. I mean, that's what I'm doing so she should try too.

I peer at Groff, a thought crossing my mind── a thought about my mother, Larissa Genrette, whose grave we are going to see. I know next to nothing about her.

"What was she like?" I ask, settling back into my seat. "My mom."

"Delicate. Gentle. Full of life." A faint smile touches my lips as I try to picture that woman in the portrait, trying to envision her being just those things. "You remind me of her," Groff adds, surprising me, so much so that I fail to actually say anything.

"Not so full of life anymore," Emory chimes, and like I said before, I seriously wish she had an off switch. I narrow my eyes, looking to her through the rear view mirror, seeing her hitting her hand against the backseat in tune to the music, much like Groff is doing, not that I think she can see it or I know she'd stop immediately, not wishing to be similar to Groff in any kind of way.

Based on the name I see up ahead, we've arrived at Larissa Genrette's resting place. 𝖦𝖤𝖭𝖱𝖤𝖳𝖳𝖤 is sketched into the side of the brick wall, indicating that several of my family members are buried within this mausoleum here, not just my mother. I wonder if Wes will be buried in here too.

I feel my chest tighten── for what reason, I don't know, but it probably has something to do with arriving at my mother's grave, knowing I'll never get to meet her under better circumstances. I spent my entire life wondering about who my mother was, only to then find out and not have the chance to meet her.

"You're wanted by the law, right?" Groff asks, bringing me out of my head.

I swallow, nodding slowly. "Yeah."

"Why don't you hide this thing back there?" He's referring to the Twinkie when he says this thing, so the Twinkie may be offended.

"What? Behind the tree?"

"Yeah. I gotta get the key," he says, pushing open the door to get out. Once the door slams shut behind him, he turns to the open window, looking back to me. "This is your family too, JJ. Remember that."

Groff moves away, as do I, going to park the Twinkie behind the tree like Groff instructed. I cast another glance at Emory through the rear view mirror, seeing her head is down. "You okay, Em?"

"Why did I agree to this?" She says it more to herself than to me, but I answer her nonetheless.

"Because I asked you to," I reply, swerving the Twinkie to the side so I can park us behind a tree.

She lifts her head. "And that worked?"

"Yeah," I sigh. "I don't expect it to again."

She huffs out a laugh. "Good."

"Thank you for coming with me, really." She hums, head falling back down to look away from me. "But, uh, maybe try and..." Once again, she raises her head, eyebrows arched like she can anticipate what I'm about to say.

"And?" she challenges.

"Be... nicer," I force out, bringing the van to a stop so I can jump out just in case she lunges at me for making such a comment.

"Nicer?" Her head shakes, a laugh trickling out of her like I asked for something insane. "This man abandoned us, JJ. H-He's barely making any kind of effort, especially with me, and you want me to, what, call him dad and smile?"

"No, I just..." I know it's a big ask, asking her to be nicer to a man she doesn't even want to be near, but I just think it would make things easier if we just attempted to give this a chance. "Can you just be nicer?"

She exhales a heavy breath. "JJ──"

"For me?" I input, looking over my shoulder at her. "Just try and be nicer for me."

Yes, I'm pulling the little brother card. Sue me.

She pushes her tongue against her cheek, jaw hard. "You suck," she chews out, moving to slide open the back door to get out of the Twinkie.

"Will you be nicer?" I ask again, chuckling.

"Yes, you dick, now get out so we can get this shit over with." She slides the door to a close, obviously agitated that she just agreed to be semi-nice to our father for my sake, but I appreciate her pretending.

Once I'm out of the van, I find Emory pulling open the back, retrieving two crowbars. She hands one off to me, sparing me something of a glance before she steps away. I follow her, the two of us walking alongside one another as we make our way to a gate with a large 𝖦 pinned to it that opens up to my mother's grave that is inside the mausoleum.

"Hey, do you think my mother can get buried in here?" Emory inquires, only speaking to me as Groff has left to retrieve the key that opens the mausoleum. "Or do mistresses not get buried with the wives?"

I inhale through my nose, needing to stay calm as I'm about to spend the entire day with her. "Em."

"What? I said that to you, not to him."

I go to yank open the gate, allowing Emory to step through first. My initial thoughts upon seeing this place is that it's disgusting. I mean, it's not been kept clean for however long it's been here, that's for certain. Overgrown plants and roots, nothing but dirt and moss at my feet, and there's a filthy water fountain that barely drips anymore.

It's not what I had in mind, let's just say that.

Emory whistles, eyes skimming over the unkept area. "Shit. Could've kept it clean, no?"

She has a point. I mean, his wife is buried in here, likely among other family members, and he just didn't even bother keeping it clean. I wonder if he even spares her a visit anymore. Surely not, right?

I'm not sure how to feel, knowing that my mother is just through these locked doors and I'm... here. She barely knew me. I barely knew her, if at all. Now I'm about to desecrate her resting place for something that may save our home, but it feels wrong nonetheless as she deserves to, you know, rest in peace and shit.

I stare up at the name above the doors. 𝖦𝖤𝖭𝖱𝖤𝖳𝖳𝖤. I've been a Maybank all my life, even being told by Brooke that, to her, I'd always be a Maybank which, yes, is true, but it wasn't supposed to be like that. I was supposed to be the son of a Genrette. I was supposed to carry the surname of Groff, much like Emory beside me, but things turned out differently for us.

I still consider myself a Maybank. I mean, it's the name I've known my entire life. It's the surname Brooke will hold when we get married if she chooses to take my name. Maybank will also be that of my future children's surnames, so yeah, I think I can't quite fathom the idea of being a Genrette or a Groff, not when I've been a Maybank my entire life.

I feel Emory nudge me. "You okay?"

I shrug a shoulder, unsure on how I really feel. "I gotta be, right?"

"Guys, I got the key!" We look over our shoulders, spotting Groff jogging over to us. He comes to a slow when he reaches us, key gripped in his hand that, I assume, unlocks the mausoleum.

Emory and I don't answer, instead watching as our father moves to unlock the door to the mausoleum. I can see that Emory wants to make some kind of comment, but she's biting her tongue. I think nice Emory equals silent Emory.

Groff then looks over his shoulder at me, the door clicking as he turns the key. "This is your real family tree, JJ." He pushes open the doors, revealing the inside of the mausoleum. "Welcome home."

Emory scrunches her face up, unable to bite her tongue now. "Welcome home? We're literally going into a mausoleum." She says that too quiet for Groff to hear but loud enough for me to hear, though she can be a bitch all she wants to me, I just think she needs to give Groff some kind of chance before going all... Emory on his ass.

Together, Emory and I step into the mausoleum, finding there to be oil paintings of the Genrettes that came before... well, me. I step ahead as Groff goes to shut the doors behind us, allowing me to observe a painting that sticks out more than the rest.

I stop in front of the portrait of my mother, beginning to notice that we do share some of the same features── hair and eye colour being the most obvious. Although, I know that, if I had the pleasure of meeting her in person, I would've been able to compare us.

Sadly, she's just a painting.

"Can I ask you something, JJ?" There's a pause, me and Emory not saying anything as I continue to look at the portrait of my mother, disappointed that she was taken too soon before I had the chance to really know her. "When you were growing up, did you really believe that Luke was your father? That you were... Maybank?"

My head falls, the weight of Groff's question hanging over me. "I guess I just..." I swallow, feeling awkward, afraid of saying the wrong thing. "I-I guess some things felt a little off." That seems like the right thing to say, though I really don't know how to respond as, honestly, I never gave it that much thought. Nobody ever really thinks their father isn't their father, right?

"Because it was, my boy." Groff nears me, and I think Emory sways closer to my side. "You were never a Maybank. You were a Genrette. A Groff." God, now that feels wrong to think, especially knowing that I was born Jackson J. Groff. "You must've felt it your whole life." His hand hits my shoulder, squeezing the muscle tightly, and I cast a glance at him. "You're not a Pogue."

Never, in the nineteen years that I've been alive have I ever been described as anything but a Pogue. With the way I grew up, it was always a safe assumption that I, Luke Maybank's son, was a Pogue. Though, if I had led the life I was born into, I would've never been a Pogue nor Luke Maybank's son. I would've been a Kook. I would've been Chandler Groff's son. I likely would've never known the friends I have now. I probably wouldn't have Brooke which, in itself, is a horrifying thought.

I feel sick thinking about it. It feels wrong to even consider myself being anything but what I am now.

"Right, and you know him so well." My gaze falls to Emory who is scowling at Groff, arms crossed over her chest. I knew she wouldn't be able to hold back, not for long. "Mr. Father-of-the-Year abandoned his kid, came back nineteen-years later just to spew all this crap about him not being a Pogue, about him not being a Maybank. I'm sorry, but I don't think you get to make those kind of judgements."

Groff tilts his head at her, and I drop my head, feeling a little embarrassed that my own sister needs to defend my honour when I didn't ask for it, not when I just told her to be nice. Groff sighs, his grip on my shoulder loosening. "I-I know what I did, Emory, I... I'm──"

"I don't want an apology," she interjects. "I just want you to know that I'm pissed, and rightfully so. I'm not here for you or some twisted family bonding time, alright? I'm here for him." She points to me, but I keep staring down. "I have a father, not that you give a shit, but I have one that I love, and who loves me, so I do not need a replacement, not that you actually seem to be making any kind of an effort with me."

I lift my head. "Em."

"No, JJ, it's..." Groff sighs. "It's okay. She has every right to be upset."

"Yes, I do." She exhales a heavy breath. "But, for the first time in my life, I need your help because we need to save our house so we need to find this stupid crown." She holds the crowbar up, pointing it at Groff. "But after you've helped, I hope I never have to see you again."

Well, she might as well have smacked him around the face with a comment like that.

"Now I've said all I needed to say. I feel better. Let's get on with this." She shoves the crowbar into Groff's chest, moving past him to lean against the wall, silently establishing that she won't be helping us pry open my mother's grave.

I watch Groff observe Emory, eyebrows pulled together like he's trying to figure it out, though he ain't going to figure her out, not in one day. I've known her for nearly two years and I still can't figure her out. She's not exactly an open book, her feelings only being unleashed just now because she couldn't stand to hold them in any longer. Usually, she lets herself stew in the hurt and pain before releasing it in a string of backhanded jokes.

Humour is Emory's coping mechanism but there was not an ounce of amusement in her tone when talking with Groff.

Groff moves away, no longer looking at Emory, and he stops in front of where Larissa's casket is held. I hold the crowbar in my hand, a wave of guilt smacking me in the face as this feels... wrong. I mean, isn't this the type of thing people go to Hell for? Not that I believe in God or anything, I just think he might smite me for doing such a thing.

"Should we be doing this?" I ask, noticing Emory has raised her head. "Grave robbing?"

"I mean, it's not grave robbing if she'd want you to have it, right?"

"Where'd you get that logic from?" Emory snaps, dragging her hands through her hair, visibly agitated. I feel just as much guilt about robbing my mother's grave as I do towards basically forcing my sister to come here and spend the day with our father who I know she can't even try to get along with, not when there's too much hurt and upset there.

Groff clears his throat, once again ignoring Emory. "Come on," he urges, and I reluctantly step over, feeling Emory burning holes into the back of me as she watches from the wall.

Fixing my grip on the crowbar, I join Groff who stands before my mother's grave, prepared to pry into it.

It doesn't take us long, not to pull the cover off which then reveals the casket that, unsurprisingly, is scattered in cobwebs, untouched for just short of nineteen years. Reaching in, Groff and I pull the casket out, revealing the top half.

I step back, figuring Groff will handle it. Though, just before he can open the casket, he stops himself. "I-I... I can't," he utters, head shaking. "I'm sorry, son. I can't see her like this." He steps away, moving to me. "You do it." He places his hand on my shoulder. "You do it for me."

I open my mouth, wanting to say something, anything, but I just stare at him, realising just what he's asking me to do. Emory, of course, opens her mouth, speaking part of my mind as she pushes off the wall. "What?" She scoffs, looking towards the grave. "You can't see her like this, but you're fine with her son seeing her like this?"

Groff fails to get any kind of sentence out, just shaking his head and looking away. Knowing that this is hard for him, I turn towards the casket. "It's fine," I push out. "It's fine, Em, I-I can..."

"JJ, you don't have to do it," she assures, but she doesn't understand that I do need to do this. Getting this lens will help us find the crown which will then help us save our home. From there, it will help Brooke and I get married and will help us travel. I have to do this for us and our future.

I step away from Groff, nodding. "I got this."

Walking by Emory, I come to stand at my mother's casket, reality settling in that I need to open this casket and see my mother like this. I've only ever seen her as a portrait, as an image on a wall, and now she's... real but dead at the same time.

I reach out slowly, prepared to do this── prepared to face my mother. I exhale a shaky breath, unwanted emotion clinging to the back of my eyelids as this isn't something any child should have to do. I then feel a presence next to me before I push open the casket, my eyes looking anywhere but below where I know my mother is. At least I managed to open the casket, right?

I inhale a sharp breath, chest feeling tight. "Hey." Emory's voice enters my ears, attempting to calm me down even though I don't know why I'm panicked when I haven't even looked. Emory, on the other hand, is looking from me to my mother's body that lays before us, seeming to be unaffected.

Emory just said goodbye to her own mother not that long ago, and now she's staring down at what should have been her stepmother.

"I-I can't do it," I whisper, hoping only she can hear me as she won't comment on my hesitance. Groff, on the other hand, I don't know. I don't want to let him down, obviously, but I can't bring myself to look down and see my mother for the first time like this. She may have held me when I was a baby, but I don't remember that, so this would really be the first time seeing her, and I just can't, not like this.

She sniffles, nodding. "It's okay. I'll, uh..." With a hand on my arm, she turns me away entirely, letting me look elsewhere which I appreciate more than she will ever know, not that I say it explicitly. "I'll do it."

"Okay," Groff breathes out. "Y-You're a good sister, Emory."

"Hm." And I'm a shit brother making her do such a thing, that much I know, but I just couldn't bring myself to take something from my dead mother. "I-I think I've got it," she announces, stepping back.

I hear the casket close, bringing me back to find Emory holding a strange looking necklace in her palm. "Is this it?" she asks, holding it tightly as she looks to Groff.

He chuckles softly, nodding. "Yes." His laugh is breathless, almost surprised. "Son, come here." I move to Emory's side, watching as Groff slots his hand under Emory's, wanting to get a closer look at the supposed lens. I see her tense, but she stays put for my sake. "It's got the Berber insignia right there, etched to it. You see it?"

"Yeah," Emory replies, sounding uninterested as she looks to me. "JJ, you okay?"

I didn't even realise I was looking past her, looking to my mother's grave that is just... there, unaware of what we just did. While she's dead, I still feel this intense guilt. I clear my throat, bringing my attention back to Emory and Groff. "Y-Yeah, I'm fine."

"I-It's yours, JJ," Groff speaks, tilting his head to the lens. "You... You keep it. E-Em, can you give it to your, um, your..."

"Yep," she interrupts, knowing he'll take just about forever to get the word brother out of his mouth. Bringing her hand back harshly and away from Groff, she turns to me, holding the lens to me.

She places the lens in my hand before closing my fist around it. I think I thank her, not out loud, but with a simple gaze as she just did something for me without even hesitating. She nods, something similar to worry etched in her look as she steps back and away from me.

"Let's go get that crown."

I look down at the lens in my hand, finding it strange that he just gave it to me so easily. I honestly believed he'd just take it, I don't know. I think Emory thought the same thing, but I can't be sure. I'd have to ask her later, but it doesn't matter as I'm holding it in my hand.

This is the only keepsake I have of my mother, so I hold on tighter, more so when I watch Groff and Emory slot the casket back into its place, covering it back up again which, I think, eases some of the anxiety sitting on me.

We then move out of the mausoleum, Groff going to shut and lock the door behind us. "Hey," I voice, Adam's apple bobbing in my throat. "Are you cool if I come by here on my own?"

"Of course. Anytime." I nod, relieved he agreed as I think I want to come back here, pay my respects to my mother properly and away from everybody else. Although, maybe I could bring Brooke here so I can introduce her to my mother, as ridiculous as that sounds given that she's dead, but I want to bring her here nonetheless.

I'd like to think that my mother would've loved Brooke, though I'll never get to truly know.

I spin away from Groff, chucking the lens into the air, catching it smoothly. "Hey, J. Do you ever wonder why you are the way you are?" Both Emory and I look to our father, confused. "Why both of you are the way you are?" he corrects, seeming to remember that he has two kids, not just one. "Always doubling down, going for the big prize. That's me, kids. Apples. Trees."

"I'm allergic to apples," Emory quips, and I'm ninety-nine percent sure she's lying.

Before Groff can comment, not that he would, we hear the sirens of a cop car nearby. "Oh, shoot."

"What the fuck?" Emory utters.

"Quick, quick, hide," Groff insists. "Quick, hide. Get back in the mausoleum!" He grabs both me and Emory, shoving us towards the doors that he didn't even lock.

"In the mausoleum?" I question, feeling like we can find a more suitable place to hide rather than inside here.

"Yes, yes, get back in." We're shoved inside, Emory nearly tripping headfirst onto the floor.

"Bastard," she curses, using my arm to stay balanced.

"Here, quick, give me the lens," Groff then says, holding his hand out, and I realise that he's not letting me keep the lens, not right now anyway.

"No," is what I find myself saying. "How do I know you're coming back?" I hold the lens away from him, the thought of him not bothering to come back once he has the lens being at the forefront of my mind.

"Hey, I'm your father, JJ. You either trust me or you can go with that lens and this adventure is over," Groff argues.

"Hey," Emory fights, jabbing her finger in Groff's direction. "Watch your mouth. You might be his father but that doesn't give you any kind of right to spit out orders." I sense that Emory doesn't want me to just hand off the lens, but I decide that, if I'm going to give Groff any kind of chance, I need to trust him.

Slowly, and with Emory staring at me intensely, I hand the lens off to Groff.

With the lens in Groff's hand, the door is shut behind him, leaving Emory and I alone in the dark of my family's mausoleum. What's worse is that we're locked in here, the sound of the lock clicking as Groff steps away to greet the cop.

Did I do the right thing? Will he come back? Was trusting him the right thing to do?

Shit.

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❀ soph speaks

if you think brooke hates groff, emory is a fucking protestor of groff's entire existence

next chapter is a groff and brooke confrontation which, uh, does not end well

i have two ideas for what to do with matilda as i obviously don't think it would be wise to have her come to morocco bcos hello she's a child,, i just need to figure it how to write it and have it make sense bcos matilda is important in this story

i rlly love emory and jj and that i wrote about them being siblings cos its lowkey fun,, i can't wait to write more about them

currently working on a new jj maybank fic that i aim to publish after im finished with sunshine which is approaching very soon :'(

thankyou so much for reading!!