tides | jj maybank x oc

ep. 20 ~ little reunions

Luna B was used to her tides by now, so much so that she could already predict the come up she would feel whilst she'd been rotting in bed the past few days during a depressive episode. she couldn't move but she knew that soon enough she wouldn't be able to move enough. wouldn't be able to get her full. to burn enough down to the ground.

she only hoped she could catch topper in that fire. or maybe shoupe.

by the time she got to midsummers she was almost vibrating with energy, and it was just searching for an outlet.

~~~

(b)
Midsummers made me feel a special sort of sick, the specific class driven sort of sickness when someone who has everything goes above and beyond to remind those who have nothing that they are not the same. that they are better than us.

Even if i'm not quite a pogue myself, i know the feeling of being different, of being less than someone else.

I'm glad when Pope sends me back out to the truck. grateful for the time away from the twirling mass of frills and suit jackets, the breath of fresh air.

but i have to go back all the same, cool box in hand, cap still settled securely on my head. backwards. as jj would wear it.

It's a pleasant surprise when i find jj stood with pope, by the barbecue. well, maybe a little more than that.

when he comes right up and hugs me, hands clasping shoulders, the back of my head, arms wrapped around my neck, i barely even flinch. and it doesn't make him let go.

it's somehow gentle and all consuming, like i wouldn't, couldnt, move away even if i wanted to. i think some part of me really didn't want to.

when he pulls away his hands secure themselves on my arms, ever so gently, mine go to his face before i even think about it.

"you- whoa hey..." he trails off, twisting me left and right, as close to examining as i think jj could ever get.

i brush my thumbs over this cheeks, unable to help myself. he's a little worse for wear, a little beat up and bruised but... he's still jj. and this is more genuine affection than he's shown me in a long long time.

"what happened to your face?" i ask him, unable to hold back my burning curiosity.

"i could ask you the same thing." he replies with a little chuckle.

"jj..." i ask sadly, worried about just what shoupe might have done to him once in that cell.

"was it- did shoupe do this?" asked pope as if reading my mind.

jj just shakes his head, still frowning at me. his eyes move across my whole body, like he's searching for the part he could fix. then, ever so gentle, he pulls my hands from his face and examines the scabs across my knuckles too. they're thick and burning red round the edges from where they keep cracking open every time i move my hands.

it's annoying more than painful.

"what did you do?" jj asks then, quiet and teasing like he's trying to calm some sort of wild animal.

"i ate shit." i shrug, unable to stop my eyes from flicking past the boys to where topper's stood with his gaggle of kooks. he's already looking at me.