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Assistant: Title: Sweaters and Sunsets
        Author: iamamuggle14 iamamuggle14 
        Chapter: 2/6 
        Summary: "My f@ck@ng shirt is wet." It's all she can focus on to stop from completely losing her calm so she says it and doesn't realize he's pulling off his own sweater and handing it to her until it's in her hands, in her shaking hands, and the warmth from the material brings her back a little. She squeezes it, feels the softness against her fingertips before finally lifting her head to his."or 5 times where JJ gives his sweater to Kiara and the 1 time she takes it.
            
            Kiara wonders if it's delirium that causes her to lift her legs from the floor, if it's her feverish temperature that has her practically laying in JJ’s arms under the blanket. She questions if it’s all the cough syrup she took that allows her to feel JJ lean into it, tugging the blanket closer, shamelessly making himself at home.
        Contents: Chapter 2: 2.
    

    

        
          
          
            “No, I’m serious, Kie! I know plenty of people think that that sh@ts okay but it’s not. And the problem with hearing it as often as you do- “ She runs a hand down her face, not ready to hear it, “is that you start to believe it.” 
          
        

      
        
          Ooh, emotions, emotions, emotions.
      
  

  
  
    
    
  "The sunset melts into the waves, 

  the colors fade into the sea, 

  and it makes me wonder,

  if you'd ever drown in love with me."

  Paul Perry
2.The sun had finally set and Kiara could not push down the admiration she felt for the sky. Maybe it was in her head, but the particular oranges and pinks that stretched across the horizon she stared at now signified the end of the week and it never failed to pull her attention towards it. No matter what she was doing she never let the sun disappear without seeing it off, either finding a window to peak out of or just flat out perching herself at the end of a dock or in the grass of her backyard. It was her personal ritual, one she started when nothing else would calm her mind that buzzed from the oftentimes stressful happenings of her day. Over time, winding down became a difficult task, one that she learned the hard way she had to take part in if she wanted a full night's rest. Sometimes she meditated and sometimes she cleaned. Sometimes she buried herself in freshly cleaned blankets on her bed and listened to the sounds of rain, euphonious tracks from a playlist Pope recommended to her, the same one he listens to when he can’t focus on his homework. They always did share the struggle to ease their obnoxious tendencies of worrying and overthinking, it only made sense they would share remedies. The sunsets were consistent and in a way that reassured her -- one that she’d probably never tell anyone about from how outlandish it sounded in her head when she tried to make sense of it. They reminded her that everything had an end, that permanency was just an illusion and that thought alone was comforting enough. If she had a bad day, she didn’t have to have a bad week. The worry she carried at 6 p.m. didn’t have to bleed into 6 a.m. if she didn’t want it to, and a bad memory didn’t have to follow her around if she felt the need to let it go.Sometimes recognizing insignificance in the heavier parts of her life lifted a weight off her shoulders and sunsets were reminiscent to not get too lost in those parts.  A more trivial yet similarly endearing routine of hers took place typically after her Friday night shifts at The Wreck and it included grabbing her canvas bag from the break room and immediately climbing into the 1960’s-esque beat up Routledge-owned van, usually involving a comment or two about how trashed it was inside. “Hippie vans are supposed to be messy, it adds to the whole aesthetic,” JJ claims, talking over the joint between his lips as he raises the lighter in his hands up to it. “The aesthetic of living like a six year old, maybe,” Kiara mumbles, taking the joint he’s handing her.“Plus it’s John B’s and since when is anything he’s responsible for ever clean?” Pope adds, softening the blow with a smile towards John B in the driver's seat, who’s rolling his eyes.“I’m basically a six year old at heart so make of that what you will, I live for the six year old aesthetic. First grader me would be proud,” John B says, just to annoy everyone. He succeeds, receiving incredulous giggles and a random soda bottle thrown at his arm. He looks satisfied regardless. They were superficial but fun nonetheless, their trips to the Boneyard. And maybe someday Kiara would look back on them and cringe at how predictable and corny they were, how she got excited from being young and dumb and not having to give a f@ck about anything if she didn’t want to. Except sometimes she did. When Kiara decided that her three best friends would be three boys, she knew what she would have to put up with because of it. Not that she ever regretted them -- sure, her social life in general would’ve been easier if she had chosen to mingle with a girl, perhaps, but she didn’t need easy when the Pogues provided everything she wanted and needed -- but that alone didn’t stop anyone from making the comments and accusations.And to put it shortly, she was sick of them. Being with the Pogues was one of if not her favorite place to be; it’s where she felt safest and most herself and with everything she’s been through, having people who are able to provide that means the world to her. Maybe more. She couldn’t ask for more than John B’s brotherly teases or Popes failed attempts at keeping them all out of trouble or JJ’s effortlessly addicting energy. They all understood her without even trying and that was something she thought she would never have. So when she overheard a comment about her ‘true intentions’ for ‘slumming’ with the boys, she couldn’t really overlook it. It made her feel dirty which she despised beyond words, putting a sick feeling in her stomach every single time. The longer she stuck with the boys the more degrading every comment felt and she could no longer just sit and take it. As she stood, feet buried in the cold sand and hair blowing in the gentle wind, staring at the bonfire, she clutched the solo cup to her chest as drunk voices floated around the cool air. She wasn’t stupid, she knew that just by showing up to a kegger, sometimes people were purposely looking for trouble. It was only about an hour into the night when she felt a hand on her shoulder, twisting her around. “I heard you told my boyfriend to go f@ck himself.” Kiara immediately shakes the hand off and rolls her eyes, turning away from the tipsy redhead girl and wonders vaguely when her own drink will kick in.Honestly maybe it already has because for the life of her she can’t remember telling someone off tonight. That doesn’t mean she puts it past her though. “Hello?” the girl slurs loudly, making Kiara want to punch her teeth in all of a sudden.“Maybe that’s what happens when he has nothing better to do than hit on random girls on the beach,” Kiara mumbles into her cup as she tips it back, only taking a sip when the girl steps in front of her, eyes glazed, a little too close for comfort. Kiara raises her eyebrows, not stepping down. “What, you’re just gonna ignore me?” the girl goes on, glancing back behind her to another girl who seemed to be watching from a distance. “You know, it’s kinda funny, Kiara. You ignore me but not him. I’m really surprised you could keep your little hands off him, actually. With you and your reputation, that’s big for you! Should we call it a milestone?”Kiara drops her cup in the sand and pushes the girl away, causing her to stumble back a few steps. She curses before her foggy eyes focus back on Kiara. Kiara’s half way from turning away when she feels a cup of beer splash into her side, foamy and sticky, soaking her shoulder and hair. She gasps as the cold liquid hits her face and ear, blinking rapidly. “What the f@ck!” “F@ck@ng sl@t!” the girl calls out, making Kiara step towards her again to push her further away. Kiara gets a punch in before she feels a tight grip on both of her arms, pulling her off the girl. “Get the f@ck off me!” She thrashes around and pulls on the grip, yanking and turning in one motion to kick whoever grabbed her, finding some guy who she assumed was the girl's boyfriend. Which would make this the second time tonight he’s bothered her. “Stupid b@tch!” the girl shrieks when Kiara kicks him, just before he half composes himself and lunges for her. She feels her stomach jump into her throat before another voice and another pair of arms break up the fight.“Hey, watch it! F@ck@ng watch it!” JJ shouts, with the same level of panic and defence he usually has when breaking up a fight with one of the Pogues. Kiara stumbles away in the sand, her hearting beating out of her chest as she watches them brawl. She never enjoyed watching JJ fight someone, as often as he did it, hated seeing him in a position where it was hurt or get hurt. “JJ!” She pushes herself up onto her unsteady legs, shuffling over to where he stood and grabs his arm. “JJ, just leave him.” JJ stops kicking and almost loses his balance into her side. She pulls him away from the crowd that has gathered around them, both of them pushing past people who are trying to see what’s happening. She hears the word ‘sl@t’ again just when JJ roughly pushes past someone, nearly causing them to trip over their feet. Their breaths are loud and labored by the time they reach a quiet stretch of beach, one darker and more secluded from the rest of the party. Kiara tries to slow her breathing, unable to catch her breath from how quick her heart was beating. “F@ck!” she nearly screams, making JJ flinch from where he stood beside her, glancing between the ground and behind them. He studies her body with wide eyes, as if searching for an injury. “What?”She doesn’t answer, feeling the knot in her throat tighten all of a sudden. She shakes out the front of her wet shirt, flipping her beer soaked hair to the side. “Kie, what?” he asks, this time more worried and stern, making her glance at him. She notes how he was gladly left with no bl@@dy noses or lips and she’s relieved but she can’t really show it from how livid she felt. She sniffs annoyed, swiping at her cheeks absently just in case any tears felt like falling just then. “B@tch got beer on my shirt,” she chokes out, stopping to swallow down the pressure she felt building in her chest. She hears it in her breathing, the utter frustration. Being called a sl@t never failed to bring her to the brink of a panic attack and that seemed to be what really sends her over the edge every time. ‘They’re just words.’ her mother had once told her as she held her against her chest, rocking until her sobs died down. That was the problem though. Kiara wanted so badly for them to be ‘just words’ but they always seemed to hurt more than any punch or skinned knee or hangover could ever live up to. JJ seems to sense it too, stopping their trek away from the party to step in front of her and cautiously holding his arms to her sides. She stops too, holding her hands on her hips as he dips his head to catch her gaze. “Kie, calm down, alright? You’re okay- ““My f@ck@ng shirt is wet.” It’s all she can focus on to stop from completely losing the calm she’s finally managed to work herself down to so she says it and doesn’t realize he’s pulling off his own sweater and handing it to her until it’s in her hands, in her shaking hands, and the warmth from the material brings her back a little. She squeezes it, feels the softness on her fingertips and finally lifts her head to his. She can barely make out his face in the moonlight but what she can see is the familiarity that she never got tired of. It looked like messy blond hair and dimples and eyes that usually said more than the mouth ever got around to sharing, mostly from having experienced the consequences of too many slip ups one too many times. Sometimes they were slurred from too many drinks, sometimes they were spat from being cornered but nonetheless, the older he got, the more he held back. And Kiara could tell when JJ was holding his tongue. If he wasn’t kicking or throwing he was still, with tense shoulders and cold eyes, the same eyes she saw now. Not directed to her but maybe that was worse, she thinks, glancing back towards the crowd of people. A cool breeze blows through the trees, drowning out what little was left of the music from down the beach, causing her sticky hair to brush along her neck. She notices he doesn’t have anything underneath the sweater he just handed her but he doesn’t seem to care so she doesn’t feel the need to fret over it. It wasn’t terribly cold out anyways. She starts to pull her shirt off when she realizes she too has nothing underneath. “Can you turn around?” she mumbles, glad to hear her voice is no longer stiff with withheld emotions. He sits for a second before catching on. “Ah, yeah.”“Thanks.”She supposed any other time he would’ve tried to joke around and catch a peek but he seems to sense her still grasping for composure, still trying to avoid a complete breakdown so he stays facing away from her as she switches out of her sticky shirt for his sweater. Once she’s done, she drops her damp shirt in the sand and tells him she’s good. He turns and watches her as she slowly starts walking towards the water, scooping up the shirt and slinging it around his neck before following her. They sit on the sand, their feet just barely reaching the water, for a few long minutes before she speaks up, twisting her necklaces around between her fingers. She peers over at him, squinting to make out his face. “Sorry about that.” She makes out a little shake of his head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” She wasn’t sorry for getting in the fight, she hardly ever was when it came down to it. But being called a sl@t was something she was forced to deal with on her own during her so-called Kook year, something she mostly internalized and hid because it was ugly, the whole thing, and she wanted no one to see it. Never talking about it was her strategy because not doing so would only draw attention to it, she told herself over and over again. That was the last thing she wanted out of all of it. Early on, she had also made it clear to the boys she didn’t need someone to throw her punches for her just because she was a girl. And over time they’ve proven that when they do throw a punch, it’s with her and not for her. But for some reason, her mind was playing tricks with her. Watching JJ tonight put a shameful feeling in her bones that she can’t quite shake. She looks back over to him tentatively. “Yeah, but… I don’t like seeing you fight like that, JJ.” “And I don’t like seeing guys thinking they can just do and say whatever they want around girls!” She can see him fidgeting with one of his rings as he glances over to her, shrugging stubbornly. “I’m not just gonna sit back and watch you deal with that sh@t, either. I won’t- “She looks away, not knowing if she was ready for this conversation. “I know, but you don’t have to protect me- ““Trust me, I know.” Silence. Only the sound of the dark water lapping over itself, climbing up towards them only to get pulled back, fills her ears. She feels his eyes on her, feels him shift beside her as his voice lowers. “Kie, if it bothers you then I’m sorry, but I wanted to do it. That was my choice and it had nothing to do with your… patriarchal protective b@llsh@t thing” She exhales in a weak laugh, caught off guard from the sarcasm in his voice, only to deflate at his next words. “It’s the fact that someone’s calling you sh@t that they shouldn’t be able to get away with calling you- “ They shouldn’t. But they do. And they have. And they will, somehow, for some f@ck@d up reason.“JJ- ““No, I’m serious, Kie! I know plenty of people think that that sh@ts okay but it’s not. And the problem with hearing it as often as you do- “ She runs a hand down her face, not ready to hear it, “is that you start to believe it.” She wants to tell him that she doesn’t, that it doesn’t matter and that he’s looking too far into it but the scary part is he wasn’t and she never liked to lie to him. In fact, it was as if he was pulling thoughts right out of her head, the way he did sometimes, because now her throat is tight again and she’s wrapping her arms around herself, feeling the warmth from the sweater making it feel as though crying would be okay. JJ’s always had that effect on her, making everything feel okay, somehow. Sort of like sunsets. Instead, she pulls her knees up to her chest and tilts her head to the side, resting it on his shoulder. Without hesitating, he wraps an arm around her back, in the relaxed manner she loved so much. She felt safe now, like this. Close and with his arm around her like it was the most natural thing he’d ever done. “Just…” he starts quietly, squeezing her arm softly, “don’t start believing it.” She lifts her head to look at him, noticing him nervously biting his cheek before he catches her staring at him. He nods once, confidently, a joking tone in his voice, cocking his head to the side fondly. “I know you’re stubborn enough to block ‘em out, Kie. I’ve seen you do it.” She interrupts with a chuckle, eyes dancing around his relaxed face. “Especially when JB says sh@t like ‘I live for the six year old aesthetic.’ Honestly, what are we gonna do with that kid? What the f@ck do you even say to that?” She can’t help but laugh now, at his impersonation of their friend and the way he shakes his head as if he’s all a lost cause. “Wouldn’t be the first time we all just went with it. You especially! D’you even realize how often you feed into his schemes?” “Couldn’t call me his bestest friend if I didn’t. Also ‘the best surfer he knows’ isn’t an easy title to take either.” “He doesn’t call you that.” she teases, although she knows it’s probably true. “Oh, but he does.” He gives a light giggle, as if reminiscing on old times, fidgeting with her shirt wrapped around his wrist. “He’d be lost without me and you know it.” She nods after a moment, fully agreeing with the sentiment as she rests her head back on his shoulder and looking out at the dark horizon, the sky only a bit lighter than the water. She feels the warmth radiate from his body, making goosebumps run up her arms as she thinks about the sky again, picturing the sun dip out of sight, casting warm hues, only a couple of hours ago. The idea of talking about the light hours in the dark ones felt like talking about an old friend, someone she hasn’t seen for a while but misses their presence nonetheless. It automatically instills a sense of vulnerability in the air and she knew JJ was always more open at night anyways. “Can I tell you something weird?” “Go for it.” She hesitates, rolling words around her mouth to see which would fit best. “Sometimes I think the sunset is kinda like a reset button. Like no matter what happens, the day still ends… and then it’s night but night is so different from day. And it’s relieving to know that some things are left in the day, ya know? Whatever b@llsh@t you go through doesn’t have to be as important as it seems in the moment because before you know it, it’s in the past, and everything passes, even if it feels like it’s at a different pace.” He’s quiet for a moment, making her feel like he’s gonna question how much she drank or some form of it but he doesn’t. It’s one of the silences that follows after she says something, one where he wants to just soak it in and maybe marvel for a second.“Makes sense.” JJ hums thoughtfully in response, squeezing her arm again. “And it’s not weird. It’s a Kie thing, so I like it.” A Kie thing. She has to bite her lip to suppress the wave of fondness that washes over her, fondness for everything about the boy beside her. What was her life like without him again?“But,” he interrupts her silent ‘let's think about everything I love about JJ’ party, a tenderness in his slightly humored voice, “I wouldn’t mind if right now passed at a slower pace. Right here.” She lets out a breath, leaning back with his hand in hers until she’s lying in the sand, watching him copy her and settle down beside her, bare back in the cold sand. She turns her head to face him, noticing the smirk on his lips as he gazes at the stars. “Agreed.”'
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