𝟏𝟏𝟏.    𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧

only love can hurt like this  ────  paloma faith

☀︎ 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐥𝐲𝐧'𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐯

𝖨 𝖶𝖠𝖵𝖤 𝖦𝖮𝖮𝖣𝖡𝖸𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖧𝖮𝖬𝖤 𝖶𝖤 𝖢𝖱𝖤𝖠𝖳𝖤𝖣．

I wave goodbye to each and every memory that was tucked into the walls of our home.

I wave goodbye to the person I was when I was in that house.

I wave goodbye to home.

I wave goodbye to the dinners we shared, where we found that Pope eating spaghetti was so not attractive. I wave goodbye to the nights we spent watching movies, where I introduced the boys to some of the classic rom-coms. I wave goodbye to JJ and I being alone in our bedroom, where we were caught in between the sheets with the brightest smiles on our faces, not a single care in the world. I wave goodbye to those times I spent drawing, where I was then interrupted by a clingy boyfriend whose ring I now wear.

I wave goodbye to fighting with my brother over the smallest of things, where a game of Monopoly got a little bit out of hand and I threw the top hat piece at him. I wave goodbye to the sleepovers I had with the girls, where the five of us attempted to fit into one bed. I wave goodbye to Emory smashing not just one, but two mirrors, where we've now been graced with years of bad luck. I wave goodbye to introducing Matilda to a place she could call her own, where we spent our days drawing and talking.

I wave goodbye to the happiness.

I wave goodbye to the laughter you can hear if you listen closely.

I wave goodbye to the person I was when I was inside that house, where I was happy and free and safe.

I wave goodbye to home.

I wave goodbye to it all.

When I turn away from my beloved home, I'm faced with something else I need to wave goodbye to── him when he's in this broken state.

Sitting on the ground is my utterly broken, utterly devastating, utterly beautiful fiancé, a bottle of alcohol tight in his grip that he takes big gulps from, not even flinching as it seemingly burns at his throat. I just stare down at him, knowing I need to fix this, but having no clue on how to stop him from bringing himself over this dangerous edge, especially after all John B spewed.

I feel a presence next to me── Emory. Now, compared to me, she obviously knows how to deal with such a situation, especially when she often throws herself into similar dilemmas whenever things hit rock bottom.

Like brother, like sister, if you will.

Speaking of my brother, I haven't spoken a word to him nor offered him any kind of look since this boat began to sail across the water with Rafe as the one behind the wheel while the rest of us stand together, trying to figure out what our next steps will be now that we're on the water.

Though, I am not interested in everybody else.

I'm only concerned about one person and he's currently drowning his head in alcohol.

I want to help, I do, I just don't think he's going to let me, especially when he made a comment about me being better off without him which is insane and something he would never, ever say under any other circumstances. Why are these circumstances different? I mean, we've been in shitty situations before, this is no different, so why is he doing everything possible to shove me away? I need to help even if he continues to push until I'm hanging off the edge.

I will help him. In sickness and in health, right?

"So, what, we're just on our way to Africa now?" Reentering my head, my eyes are brought off JJ and to Kiara who stands beside Emory. "Quick little weekend trip?"

"Think it'll take longer than a weekend, babe."

I don't want to stay in Morocco any longer than we have to, especially when I have somebody counting on me to come home.

"What about Rafe?" Pope asks, looking over his shoulder at Rafe who is at the wheel, unaware that we're talking about him. "We know what he did to the cross. And now we want to go after the crown with him? That makes zero sense."

"Doesn't take Pope to figure that part out."

"Sarah, you're his family. How do you deal with Rafe?" John B inquires, looking to his wife who is just shaking her head, obviously unsure on how to deal with her brother. I know the feeling.

"I don't know," she replies, shoulders lifting in a shrug. "I really have no idea."

"Alright, well, it seems like we're stuck on this boat with him so we gotta talk to him," John B suggests, speaking it like that is an easy thing to do when it comes to Rafe Cameron. Speaking from experience, talking with Rafe Cameron and getting real information out of him is equivalent to pulling your hair out strand by strand.

In simple terms, he's a frustrating bastard.

"Talk to Rafe?" I look to JJ who scrunches his face up in disbelief, also knowing we can't just speak to him easily.

"Well, you're definitely not talking to him."

"Oh, I'm not doing it, right." I bite the inside of my cheek, seeing just how the alcohol is affecting him already. If he drinks anymore, I'm afraid of how'll he speak to me never mind anyone else. I mean, drinking whilst in such a depressed state is never a good idea, is it? "Okay, what did I do now?" JJ asks, looking to my brother.

"Look, it just might be easier if we handle it, okay?" Kiara speaks softly, attempting to be kinder as John B certainly ain't in any kind of forgiving mood. "You might trigger him and that's, like, the last thing we need."

"Trigger him?!" JJ exclaims, tone rising. "Yeah, I trigger him because I get shit done, alright?"

"Yeah, like felonies and forcing us out of the country for potentially the rest of our lives," John B comments, voice monotoned. "So why don't you park your ass right there and just sit this one out?"

"Hey," Emory jabs. "Lay off him, alright?"

John B scoffs, moving away first, the others following quickly. JJ shakes his head, going to take another sip from the bottle, and I stay put for a moment, wondering if I should say something now or leave it.

Leave it, Brooke. You'll make it worse.

I open my mouth as I never listen to my head just as Emory's fist nudges my arm. "Come on," she utters, also looking to her brother with the same concern I have.

Reluctantly, deciding I'll talk to JJ later, I move with Emory to where the others went, watching as John B raises his fist to knock on the door, catching Rafe's attention as he looks away from the open water to us.

"Hey. I just wanna talk."

"Alright, let's talk," Rafe replies nonchalantly, allowing each of us to step into the cockpit.

"We're on a long trek. So let's just──"

"Right, just so you know..." Rafe lifts up the hem of his shirt, revealing the gun that he holds in the waistband, letting us see that he can and will use a weapon if necessary. I could almost laugh because who does this guy think he is? "See this? It's a peacemaker, alright? You guys be cool, I'll be cool."

"So now you want peace?" He's made each of our lives hell for such a long time from trying to kill Sarah to hurting Pope to aiding in putting my brother behind bars. I can't stand this guy on a good day, and today is a bad day where I am not in the best of moods, so he can threaten me with a gun all he wants, I'll hit him harder.

"I just saved all your asses," Rafe points out, saying it again as if saying that will erase the last few years. "How about a 'thank you'? You know, no good deed goes unpunished. It'll be just like in Barbados. Right, B? You remember?"

"Brooke," John B pushes out. "Her name is Brooke. You remember that, alright?"

Well, despite how angry John B might be with me, at least he'll still come to my defence.

Rafe scoffs, looking to me, and I'm reminded of that cold gaze I met when we talked at the Boneyard right after he attempted to kill his own sister. I spoke to him like I would a friend, confiding in him in a way I never expected to, and now he's subtly reminding me of that night with how he looks at me. This time, though, he thinks he has the upper hand because he has a weapon even though he stated that he wouldn't kill me. Though, maybe that's changed.

"Okay, here's the situation, alright?" he starts, bringing his eyes off me and back to John B. "I don't want any part of your little fairy tale treasure hunt bullshit, alright? I'm just looking for Groff. I get you to North Africa, you get me to Groff. Deal?"

He can do whatever he wants with Groff, I don't care. If that man dies, at least there will be one less asshole in the world. While I promised Shoupe he'd have Groff, I never stated whether he'd be dead or alive, right?

Preferably, I'd like his head on a stick.

"We want the same thing," John B tells, and Rafe turns away to refocus on the water.

I feel somebody barge past me, and before I realise who it is, JJ's voice registers in my ears. "Hey, Rafe." I look forward, watching JJ bring his hand back just as Rafe turns, unable to react fast enough as JJ's fist greets the side of Rafe's face.

I gasp, surprised as he was literally just sitting outside, drinking his weight in alcohol, and now... Rafe is unconscious right before me.

"Oh, shit."

I hear Emory snort beside me, obviously all for her brother's antics. I swear, she'd clap if we weren't all confused on why he did such a thing when it seemed we were actually working shit out with him as crazy as that sounds.

"Jesus, JJ!" John B shouts.

"Oh, that felt good," JJ breathes out, dragging a hand through his hair. "Whoo! I didn't see that one coming either."

"What the hell are you doing?!" John B yells, crouching down next to Rafe to check he's fine, but he obviously will be fine. He's out cold, yes, so he'll likely wake up later.

"You weren't seriously going to trust what he was saying, were you?" JJ speaks, a slur in his voice.

"I mean, honestly, if he didn't do it, I was gonna do it," Pope says, and I don't doubt that for a second. After all the hits he's taken from Rafe, I know he'd love to knock him unconscious. Honestly, I think we'd all like to.

Sadly, JJ beat us to it this time around.

With Rafe down, the boys choose to move him, dragging him to the teeny, tiny, claustrophobic room where the toilet is. He's then tied up and left on the floor to rot, not a final glance being offered his way as he deserves this.

He's hurt each of us numerous times, and just because he does one good thing, doesn't automatically mean he's in our good books, not by a long shot. He's put us through too much to be forgiven so easily, so leaving him tied up and on the floor for the duration of our journey is the least of what he deserves.

With Rafe── the one who was steering the ship── tied up, the boys concluded that we'd take the wheel in shifts. Instead of one person manning the boat, we'd all be just as responsible, forcing each and every one of us to work together at some point.

We're going to be on this boat for several days, the journey to Morocco being long, and with it being so far away in North Africa, we've got to keep ourselves fed, watered and awake.

So, over the next few days, we work, work, work like good Pogues do.

Pope and John B were in charge of fishing up some food for us while Sarah and Kiara were in charge of cooking. I did a little bit of everything, you could say, trying to help where I could, my expertise on cooking very poor, yes, but according to Kiara, I'm very good at covering the fish in different spice and herbs.

I'll take it. A win's a win.

Emory and Cleo were down below with the pipes, Cleo knowing what to do in that area as she's worked on boats in the past. Emory was just trying to keep herself busy as I suspect she is just as desperate for a drink to take her mind off everything, but her brother is keeping the bottles away from her, instead using them for himself, drinking various alcohols while barely eating.

When I wasn't dishing plates with Sarah and Kiara or hosing the deck down with Pope, I was keeping an eye on JJ who was stumbling over his own feet and drowning himself in anything and everything. I repeatedly expressed my concerns, even snatching the bottle from him a few times, but this boy always found something. So, realising that snatching bottles off him and displaying my worries wasn't working, I just decided to stay close to him.

We're currently in the control room, both of us reading off the map as Pope steers the ship, minding his own business, and things feel... tense, more so now that we both know JJ hasn't been sober for a single day on this boat.

"Next stop..." JJ pins his finger on Morocco. "Payback."

"Damn straight," I breathe out, looking to him, feeling this tightness in my chest as I know this single moment of peace is going to be crushed. Not a smile, not a laugh, not a touch of acknowledgment from him will be offered in my direction nor anyone else's and that pains me.

I'm so worried about him, and he doesn't even know it. I don't even think he'd care.

"So why'd you do it?" JJ then asks, looking over his shoulder to Pope, and I'm lifting my head to listen in on them, assuming JJ's referring to Pope throwing himself at a cop and being placed on probation.

"Why'd I do what? Save your asses?"

I appreciate Pope doing what he did. He did save our asses from being shot. He helped us, and while it was stupid as he ended up being shoved in a jail cell that night, I appreciate him greatly.

JJ looks away, head shaking. "I don't know why you threw it away, Pope."

"Yeah, you know me. I don't need an excuse to crash out," he speaks.

"Well, congratulations, Pope. Because now you're gonna end up just like me." His eyes lift, dazed ones greeting mine for a moment. "I mean, look at Brooke, already screwed because she's with me." I scoff, finding that to be a ridiculous comment as being with him is so far from being screwed. Being with him is the exact opposite.

"What was I supposed to do?" Pope asks.

"Maybe just let them shoot me," JJ replies, making me rear my head back, surprised by such a statement. "Would've been doing me a favour."

"JJ, I──"

"You take the helm," JJ interrupts, snatching his bottle of alcohol again. He then moves past me, shoulder barging my arm── intentionally or accidentally, I don't know, but it hurts nonetheless to have him brush me off so carelessly. "I need some fresh air."

JJ moves away, and I'm left to stand and stare at Pope who just shakes his head, looking away first. Is he not going to say anything? Our best friend just said he would've been fine being shot, and he's just going to shake his head and look away? I would say something to him, and maybe I will later, but I have somebody to check on.

I follow JJ, reaching him quickly as he's barely in any kind of state to walk straight. "JJ." He ignores me, instead moving towards the end of the boat. "Hey, JJ. Look at me."

He stops suddenly, turning around to lean back against the edge. "What?" Taking another swig, his eyes hold mine, though his eyes don't reflect what I'm used to. He just seems so faraway, so out of reach, so... gone that my heart only squeezes harder. "What is it, Brooke?"

A scoff falls past my lips. "W-What? JJ, you just said you wanted that cop to shoot you."

"Oh, come on, Brooke, I was just kidding, alright?" The harshness of his tone suggests otherwise, but I don't say that. "You take everything so seriously," he jabs, bringing the lip of the bottle to his mouth, taking another large gulp.

"JJ, I'm worried," I push out, stepping forward as he looks away, bringing this eyes off me. "T-This is not... This is not you, JJ. This is──"

"No, Brooke, this thing is..." His gaze refocuses on me, though part of me wishes he'd continue to look elsewhere as I didn't realise just how hard this inevitable conversation would be, especially with his eyes on me. "...this is me."

"No, it's not," I exclaim, sucking in a sharp breath to ease the tension in my chest. "I don't like this. You drinking all day, you saying you want to be shot and... I-I don't understand, JJ. I mean, I get that things have been shitty lately, I do, but this is... this is so unlike you. I'm worried. I'm really, really worried."

"Well, Brooke, just stop worrying about me."

"No." His eyes roll, the bottle touching his lips once again. "It's my job to worry about you, JJ. It's my job to take care of you. Please just talk to me without drinking, without the..." The thought of him having suicidal thoughts is concerning, making me want to tie him up somewhere as I'm scared he'll try to... God, I don't know. I'm just really fucking worried. "Please just talk to me. I-I want to help you, JJ. Let me."

"I don't need your help, Brooke. I don't want it, alright?" He points the bottle towards me as he talks. "So just..." He sighs loudly, shoulders shrugging. "...just leave me."

"No, I-I won't leave you." I shake my head, hating that he's not speaking to me, that he's not confiding in me, that he's drowning himself in all this pain without trying to turn to me. He's just slowly giving up on himself, and I can't let him. "Not when you're like this, JJ. I won't leave you."

"You can't just leave well enough alone, can you?" he snipes, tone harsher than before, and I know what he's trying to do. He's just trying to shove me away by sniping at me, but I won't back down. I refuse to give up. "You always have to..." He waves his hand at me. "...always have to try and fix me, Brooke, and I-I don't need it. I don't want it. Just stop trying to help. Stop trying to save me. I can't be saved."

Since meeting him, we've helped one another. We've protected one another. We've cared for one another. We've saved one another. Now he's standing here, letting himself actually believe that I'm not here, that I'm not somebody who can stop him from throwing himself off this boat even though I've been helping and saving him since we were eight-years-old.

I will never, not under circumstances, stop trying to save him. I will now, until the rest of my life, protect him because, I'll be honest, it's like second nature to me. I mean, I was willing to get shot by that officer earlier for him as the thought of anything bad happening to him terrified me.

I will always, without a doubt, save JJ Maybank.

I just worry that, this time, I'm going to fail in saving him from his own head. But I swear to God, I will die trying.

"JJ, stop. Please just stop," I beg quietly, head dropping as I try to figure out the best thing to say in the hopes of fixing this. "I-I get that things have been hard, but that doesn't mean you can just turn to a bottle as a way of fixing it."

"Yeah, well, I don't care."

"I care!" I shout, bringing my head back up. "JJ, I'm right here. I'm here to help you. I'm here because I want to be here. I'm here because I love you, JJ, so please just stop..." I step forward, feeling safe to go to him, hoping I can touch his hand or his face and promise him that I am right here in his orbit, ready to help. "Talk to me."

"And say what, Brooke?" He breathes out a laugh, eyes narrowing. "That my life is shitty, that I have not one, but two crappy dads?" His head tilts, scoffing. "Or maybe about how your brother blames me for all this shit? Is that what you wanna talk about, Brooke?"

"I'm sorry about what John B said, okay?" God, he was a fucking idiot for making such a comment at JJ, especially when he's been blaming himself for just about everything lately. It was so uncalled for, and I'll make him hear it later. "I'm sorry about your dad... dads, and I understand that you're in a lot of pain, I do, but──"

"You don't get it," he fights, eyes glossing over my face. "Your dad hits you once, that doesn't mean you and me are the same, Brooke."

He's trying to hurt you. He's trying to──

"Dad hit you?"

That voice does not belong to JJ. No, he's just looking down at me, hand still gripped tight around the bottle of alcohol. Slowly, I turn away, looking over my shoulder to find my brother standing mere meters away from us, the words belonging to him.

I never told him, not about Dad hitting me as, like JJ so kindly pointed out, it was a one time thing. After Dad died, or even when he was alive, I never wanted John B to think poorly of our father so, naturally, I chose not to tell him about Dad hitting me because, again, it was just a one time thing that never occurred again.

I open my mouth, going to speak, but JJ beats me to it. "Secret's out, Brooke. Sorry."

I ignore him, swallowing down the nagging emotion at my throat. "W-What are you doing here?" I ask, instead choosing to look to John B.

"I came to talk to JJ and── Brooke, Dad hit you? When?" He's moving towards me, looking both annoyed and concerned. "What's going on?"

"N-Nothing," I stammer. "Just..." I look back to JJ, seeing him minding his own business as he continues to take big gulps from the bottle. "We can talk about it later, John B, okay, just──"

"No, w-why──"

"We can talk about it later," I repeat, a gentle urgency in my tone. "Okay?"

John B looks down at me, seeing that I'm obviously desperate to not relive a painful memory that I've only ever detailed to JJ. I never thought he'd throw it back in my face, and while I know he's trying to hurt me in the hopes of getting me to hate him, he sure knows which strings to tug on.

He's hurting, Brooke. He doesn't know what he's saying, not completely.

"You wanted to talk to JJ, so..." I shake my head, needing to get away for a minute so I can refocus and stop myself from breaking down before I've even crossed the extent of JJ's issues. "Just talk to him," I push out, barging past John B and moving away, needing a second.

The moment I'm away, I press myself against the nearest wall, heaving in a sharp breath as I fall forward, hands gripping my knees. I sensed myself going to fall over this edge── over this edge of a painful, never ending anxiety attack, but I had hoped that it wouldn't present itself, not yet.

Should've known it would as I'm not too great at controlling such attacks, not when they often arise suddenly and quickly, hitting me harder than I'd like.

My stomach twists, my chest burns, bile itching at my throat, and my breathing turns erratic while the rest of my body tingles and warms in the worst possible way. I then let myself slide against the wall, choosing to sit as a wise person once told me to sit the last time I had an attack this bad.

"You should breathe," she had said, demonstrating what I needed to do by inhaling a steady breath of her own before releasing it. Squeezing my eyes shut, I attempt to remember how easy it was for me to breathe, how easy it was to relax and exhale when in her presence. "Count to ten in your head. Or you can count out loud." I can hear her voice like a delicate whisper in my ear, counting for me as I focus on breathing steadily and to the count of ten.

I wish her hand was in mine like it was then. I wish it was her sitting beside me like she was then. I wish she was here for me like she was then. I know that all I'd need is to see her face for all this worry, all this anxiety and fear to disappear.

All it would take is her.

I hope, for our sakes, she got my message that I left in my sketchbook on the final page she drew us on. I wrote a message telling her that I'd be home soon, that I'd get to her and she wouldn't be alone for long. I then wrote that, when it's safe to do so, she should try and get back to the house, see if she can find either my cracked phone or Sarah's phone as I know Sarah left hers at the house. If Matilda gets to either someone's phone, we can contact her from Morocco.

Well, I hope we can contact her. I'm unsure if we'll get the chance as the cops may stake out our house for the foreseeable future until we arrive back on the island, but I'm holding hope that Matilda can get in there easily and find a way to get through to us.

I need a miracle and I think she is that miracle.

Since the minute she entered my life, she's been this great beacon of hope, and God, I've never needed to be back home more than I do now. Not only do I think I would benefit from being anywhere but here, I think JJ would benefit from being anywhere but here.

If I could, would I go back? Yes.

I don't want to go to Morocco, not now, not ever. Hell, I didn't even pin it on the map above our bed── that's how much I didn't wanna go. I'm afraid of going which, in itself, is surprising as I've been to several places over the last few years and I've never been that afraid, but this time feels... I don't know, different, and I'm fucking scared as to why.

With Groff and the mercenaries about to crash land in Morocco right before us, it's only reasonable to think that we will be greeted by them and not in a friendly manner. If we aren't careful, I'm afraid we're each going to be killed, and I can't stand for that, not when I need to get home, not when I need to get us home.

I need to get home because I made a promise.

"If you talk, you might feel less... scared." A smile touches my lips as I bring my head back from my knees that I had pulled up to my face, imagining myself being in front of Matilda as she says that. While I haven't explicitly spoke, my head has done it for me, taking me down a tangent of thinking of Matilda and considering what will happen once we arrive at Morocco, but it's calmed me, just like Matilda said it would.

I sniffle, exhaling a steadier breath this time. "Thanks, kid," I utter, wishing she could hear me.

I then bring myself up, sliding back up the wall and deciding to go and check on my brother and JJ, hearing commotion and yelling the closer I get to where I previously was. I then find John B pressing JJ back against a barrel, his hands gripping his shirt tightly.

Well, it seems their talk went well.

I watch JJ lean his head back, laughing softly while my brother glares at him. When his head is brought back, he plants a hand on John B's shoulder harshly. "Yeah, John B. You're gonna be a great dad." He pats John B on the cheek, his tone otherwise sarcastic which is so not fair.

John B told JJ. I mean, I figured he would eventually, but now is definitely not the time to offer him good news, not when he's in this state of spewing all kinds of crap just for the sake of hurting those around him, and I suspect that's exactly what he's done to John B.

"I am gonna be a good dad," he states, and I nod slowly, moving to hide just as John B shoves JJ a final time before stepping away, walking straight by me without realising that I heard the backend of their supposed argument.

I emerge from where I was hiding, knowing I need to talk to JJ, especially after this argument he just had with my brother. I need to try and get through to him, try and help him out of this hole he's digging. I watch him push off the barrel, straightening himself up as he takes another sip from the bottle.

I step forward, hands clasped in front of me. "He is gonna be a good dad," I speak, catching his attention for a moment as he stumbles back to where he was stood before, his back against the rim of the boat. "What did you say to him?"

"Why? You gonna yell at me too?"

"Maybe," I reply, afraid of what he's about to declare after he obviously upset John B. "What did you say to him?"

"He asked me to be godfather," he tells, though I'm not entirely surprised as I am godmother. JJ's his best friend, the closest thing he's had to a brother, so I understand why he'd want JJ to be the godfather to his baby. "Told me your godmother. Nice, isn't it?"

"You're his best friend," I say, speaking calmly in contrast to his drunken tone. "He trusts you, JJ. He loves you. Of course he'd want you to be the godfather."

"Yeah, well, I told him he wouldn't want me around his kid," he declares, another airy laugh rippling out of him at the ridiculousness of it all.

I sigh, head shaking. "JJ, come on..."

"No, Brooke, you come on. You know I shouldn't be around that kid, especially not as a godfather, like... no." He takes another swig, coughing slightly when he brings the bottle back. "I'll screw up that kid. John B will screw up that kid. Just like our dads did to us."

I blink at him, mouth agape. "You told my brother that he'd screw up his kid? You said that to him?"

"Yeah," he jeers. "I was just being honest."

"Well, I'm sorry, but that's the biggest load of shit ever," I scoff, taking a single step forward. "John B is gonna make a great dad, okay? That kid that he and Sarah are gonna have is so lucky. I-I can't believe you'd say that to him. I-I mean, why would you..."

"Brooke, he knows nothing about raising a kid."

"JJ, he practically raised me," I jab, crossing my arms over my chest, knowing I have to defend my brother as, hello, he's my brother. It doesn't matter how annoyed I am with him, I'll always back him. "He's an incredible brother so I trust that he's going to be an incredible father, and you should trust that too. He's your best friend, JJ. He's practically your brother."

"Yeah, well, as his best friend," he spits, swiping his hand across his mouth. "I just told him the truth. That's what friends do, right?"

I shake my head, feeling a burn at the back of my throat that's either emotion or bile. Either one is not preferable. "Right," I grit out. "The truth. So, when you said earlier that I was better off without you, was that just another truth?"

"Yep."

"Well, I think that's bullshit too, JJ."

"Well, you can think all you want, Sunshine, it's true." Hearing him call me by my nickname makes this all harder, especially when he says the name without any kind of thought or meaning behind it. "I am not good for you."

"I think I'm very capable of deciding what is good for me, JJ."

He tilts his head at me, eyes burning into mine. "You've nearly died because of me, Brooke, so you're obviously not thinking straight about what is good for you," he speaks, tone slurring, and I try not to let his words eat at me, especially when he's not thinking straight himself. "You lost Matilda because of me. You nearly got shot because of me. The truth is, Brooke, I am going to keep on hurting you, so it's better you cut me loose."

I rear my head back, nose scrunching at his choice of words. "Cut you loose? What does that even──" I pause, realising just what he means. "No." I shake my head frantically, refusing to accept such a thing. "No. Nuh-uh. I am not cutting you loose. I'd never, ever do that, JJ. What the fuck?"

"Well, I will cut you loose, Sunny, alright?"

"No," I fight, voice raising ever so slightly. "No, JJ. You are not just going to fucking give up, not on this, not on us."

"You don't deserve this shit, Brooke. You deserve better than me," he says, sipping from the bottle again, and I notice that it's close to being done again, though I know he'll just find another. He always, without a doubt, seems to find another.

"No, JJ. I get to decide what I deserve, and it has always been you," I yell, not caring if somebody hears us. I just need him to hear me loud and clear. "I have loved you since I was eight, so if you think I'm just going to walk away and leave you when you're like this, you're completely insane."

"I am insane, Sunshine," he states, laughing once again. "I'm insane for thinking I could ever be good enough for you." He pushes off the edge, placing his bottle down for the first time today, and he goes to move towards me and because, of course, I'm not afraid of him, I stay planted where I stand. "You deserve better than what I can give you."

"No, JJ, I deserve you," I push out, watching him step forward until he stands before me. "I deserve to be loved by you." With him now standing before me, I jab a finger at his chest, attempting to be clearer. "And you... you deserve to be loved. God, you deserve everything, JJ, why can't you see that? You don't deserve to be suffering, not on your own, so please let me in. I just want to help, JJ. I just want to be here for you."

"God," he coughs, breath reeking of whatever alcohol he's consumed, but I don't shy away. I won't shy away. "You can't just leave it alone, can you? You can't just leave me alone."

"No, I can't."

"Why?"

"Because I have always been here for you. Always!" I hit my hand at his chest again, breathing growing heavy, and I fear I'm on the edge of another anxiety attack that won't be so easy to cure with him standing before me. "We've always been there for each other through everything, JJ, through every shitty thing that's ever happened, so why is this different? Why are you so insistent on pushing me away this time?"

"Because I hurt you," he exhales.

"You didn't hurt me!"

"Yes, I did, and I won't do it again. I can't do it again."

"JJ, you didn't hurt me, I already told you that." I'm not sure how many times I have to say it until he really, really listens. Hell, maybe tattooing the fucking words all over my body will be the only way to get him to hear me, and I'm willing to try just about anything. "I told you not to blame yourself."

"Well, I do, alright? I do, so does your brother. I could've gotten you killed, Brooke." I will help John B not blame JJ for me being hurt, but it's much harder to convince JJ. Even though I thought I'd succeeded the other night when we talked, but I guess I should've known that he would ignore me, especially when he believes somebody should be blamed for me being harmed at the end of the day. "But I can stop myself from hurting you in the future."

I don't like where this is going. I need him to stop going down this path. I need to help.

"JJ, what are you──"

His hands take my face, silencing me. "I love you, Brooke, I do. I've never loved anyone or anything as much as I love you. You have been the best part of my life every day for the last eleven years, Sunshine." I just stare at him, tears collecting at my eyelids, the blue in his eyes glossing as he speaks. "And I know that you don't deserve this. You don't need this. I'm a mess, baby, a complete fucking mess and I won't drag you down with me, not anymore."

A tear falls. "What?"

"I'm not going to marry you."

He leans forward, lips pushing against my forehead as if he's sealing the promise of not marrying me, and I just stand frozen, so completely stunned.

Never, in all this time that we've been engaged, while short, did I ever doubt that he wanted to marry me. While, yes, his proposal was not traditional in any sense of the word, I truly believed that he wanted me in that way── that he wanted me to be his wife one day.

I never, ever imagined being wrong, not with that.

His thumbs swipe the tears that trickle down my face before his hands fall away from my face entirely, taking that piece of him away. He then steps back, going straight for that fucking bottle.

Now, maybe it's because I'm emotional or because I'm not done talking, but I move to the bottle too, though I don't have any intention of drinking from it.

I snatch it from his hand, going to smash it, and he doesn't even attempt to take it back from me, he just watches me throw it at the ground,

Sorry, Pope, you'll have to hose down the deck again.

"So what, all that shit you said about our future, about loving me for the rest of our lives, that was all just a fucking lie?" A sob is wrenched from deep within me, and I hate to hear it as I don't want to look weak, not right now. "You wanting to marry me and travel with me and have kids with me and grow old with me and live in a treehouse with a fucking dog and cat── that was all just a big, stupid lie? Really?"

"Brooke..."

"Was it a lie?"

"I will love you for the rest of my life."

"My life," I repeat, bottom lip trembling. "Not our life anymore, right? It was all just a fucking lie."

"I mean, I proposed to you in the middle of a crash out, so..." He shrugs, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. "...I wasn't in the right kind of mind, you know, so I shouldn't have proposed. I was going through it, so I-I just needed something to be... to be happy about for a second, but now..." He swallows harshly, bringing his eyes off me like a fucking coward, but I won't stand for it.

"You look at me when you break my heart, Maybank," I demand.

Reluctantly, he lifts his head, blue and brown meeting and being locked out, no longer welcoming the other home. "...now I realise that it'd be stupid for us to get married."

You stupid, stupid girl.

"God, it would be even more stupid for me to be a father, Brooke."

"You are not your dad── either of them," I tell him, but he's heard that a thousand times already too.

"Yeah, well, you don't know that yet," he sighs, bringing his head back up, eyes meeting mine. "Give it time, and I'll be exactly like them both, but at least by then... you will be far enough away from me that you won't have to worry because I'm not gonna hurt you anymore."

"You never hurt me before," I speak, voice cracking as he's hurting me now, crushing my heart with his words even if part of me knows he's not in any kind of right mind to say such things.

"It's in my blood to hurt people, Brooke, so yeah, I have and I will hurt you, so that's why you need to be rid of me now."

"No, JJ..."

"I am not marrying you," he repeats, a firmness in his voice that suggests a finality, but there cannot be a finality to something like that, not when we've had our futures mapped out since before he even proposed. "I am not going to be your husband. I am not going to be the father to your children. I am not going to let you be a Maybank. I am not going to hurt you anymore than I already have."

"I-I don't..." I'm at a loss for words, feeling utterly devastated and lost on what to say or how to navigate what's happening. I genuinely feel as though I'm living somebody else's life because there is no way the boy I fell in love with at eight-years-old is saying such things to me.

There's no way this boy who has called me Sunshine since, like, forever, is doing this to me. There's no way this boy who made me a bracelet that I still wear to this day is doing this to me. There's no way this boy who kissed me in front of our entire class just to prove that I was worthy of a kiss is doing this to me. There's no way this boy who ran through fire to retrieve my sketchbook is doing this to me. There's no way this boy who built me a treehouse and got a tattoo with my signature is doing this to me.

There's no way this boy who saved me several times is doing this to me. There's no way this boy who took me to Paris in our minds and made me feel so loved every time since is doing this to me. There's no way this boy who knows every secret, every desire, every wish of mine is doing this to me. There's no way this boy who has laid beside me every night for the past two years is doing this to me. There's no way this boy who proposed whilst saying he's never been more sure of anything is doing this to me.

There's no way JJ Maybank is breaking my heart right now.

"Don't cry over me, alright?" He moves forward, going to step past me again, obviously wanting to get away, but I can't just let him go, not after all this. "I'm not worth the tears, Sunny."

"JJ, stop." I snatch his hand, turning with him as I can't let him go. I'm terrified of letting him walk away from me as I truly fear that this will be the end, that he'll let us go right along with our future we've crafted. "Don't do this."

"I'm protecting you, Brooke."

"I need you."

"No, you don't. Nobody needs me."

"I do," I exclaim, hating just how low he feels right now, how he's feeling so down that he can't even fathom the thought of somebody needing and loving him anymore. "I love you!"

"And look where loving me got you?"

"JJ, none of what's happened over the past few weeks has been your fault," I repeat, wishing he'd just understand it, but if he's so far in his head, there's no hope of ever getting him out. "You have to know that. You need to understand that I don't blame you."

"You should," he breathes out.

"But I don't!"

"Let me go, Brooke."

Letting him go is something I've never, ever wanted. I can't, not in any circumstance, bring myself to let him go even though he's done every possible thing to hurt me.

I can't let him go.

"No. I-I can't..."

"Let. Me. Go."

"I love you," I cry, holding his arm tighter, needing him more than he will ever accept. "JJ, please, don't do this. I-I need you. I-I love you."

"I love you, Sunshine."

Harshly, he snatches his arm back and moves away as quickly as possible, and I find that I now have nothing to hold me up, not from falling under the weight of everything that's just happened.

A sob wrenches out of me again, this one ripping at me in the same way JJ's words did with my heart. My legs weaken, the weight crushing me from above as I let myself fall, though I don't hit the floor, not like I had hoped.

Instead, it seems I fall into the arms of another── into the arms of my best friend, Kiara.

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❀ soph speaks

so uh yeah it rlly hurt to write this shit

thankyou for reading!!