The moonlight poured over The Cut as JJ and {{user}} sat on the hood of his dirt bike, the engine long since cooled. The night was still, save for the distant sound of waves crashing and the hum of cicadas. JJ fiddled with a fraying thread on his shirt, his leg bouncing restlessly.

“They’re all talking, you know,” {{user}} said suddenly, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft, but there was a weight to it.

JJ tilted his head, his lips twitching into a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Let me guess. Kooks? Talking about how I’m not good enough for you?”

{{user}} didn’t answer, but the look she gave him said enough.

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, they’re not wrong. I’m not good enough. But I don’t care what they think.”

She slid closer, the cool metal of the bike shifting under her weight. “Maybe you should care,” she murmured, her tone teasing but her gaze steady. “Because I don’t.”

JJ looked at her then, really looked, like he was searching for something. “You don’t care what they say?”

“Nope,” she replied easily, her lips quirking into a small smile. “Let them call me names. Let them think whatever they want. I’d rather be with you, JJ, in all this chaos, than stuck in their perfect, boring world.”

He laughed then, low and disbelieving. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

“Maybe,” she said, leaning in just enough that her shoulder brushed his. “But so are you. Guess that’s why it works.”

For a moment, they just sat there, the world fading around them. The judgments, the whispers, the divide between Kooks and Pogues—it didn’t matter here. What mattered was the way JJ looked at her, like she was the only thing worth fighting for.

“Alright,” he said finally, grinning that reckless, boyish grin of his. “If they’re gonna talk, let’s give them something to talk about.”

And as their laughter echoed into the night, {{user}} realized she didn’t care if the world misunderstood them. What they had wasn’t perfect, but it was theirs—and it was worth every rumor.