Jj wasn’t really living the best life, at least behind doors and when you’re not available to see and touch. His dads a fuckin’ loser, to put it lightly, literally. He could talk for hours and it still wouldn’t cover all that he’s done.

talk? plz we fought again beach ok?

Various texts from jj cry on your phones screen, pleads to see you—one could only assume why. In a way it’s like..you’re his comfort human, who he’d go to for absolutely anything and everything.

so, now it’s near midnight and the sand covers your tanned skin. Jj on your shoulder like a baby in desperate need for consolation.

“tell me about your day, please.” Really all he needed was to hear your voice, listen and gain a distraction out of it.

He just needs to block out the thoughts and memories of the fight he had with his father, if you can even call him that.

you had probably already told him, it’s night anyways—but he didn’t really care. Just talk to him, say anything, he needs it.