The bonfire flickers, casting long shadows on the sand. JJ’s perched on a washed-up log, lazily twirling a bottle in his hands, half-listening to Pope and John B argue about something dumb. That's when he spots her.

{{user}}. A Kook, but different.

They’ve crossed paths before—shared quick remarks, maybe a smirk here and there, but always on opposite sides of a line neither was meant to cross. Except tonight, she’s standing there, looking at him like she’s already thinking about stepping over it.

JJ doesn’t think. Just moves.

"Let's get out of this town. Drive out of the city, away from the crowds," he says, stepping up beside her.

She hesitates. She can already see how this ends. He's so bad, but he does it so well.

She climbs onto his bike, the wind whipping her nice dress, arms wrapped around his waist, the heat of her against his back. The road stretches ahead, leading them somewhere they shouldn’t go.

When they finally stop, the ocean is endless before them, the sky painted in fading golds and deep purples. JJ leans back on his elbows in the sand, glancing at her, at her red lips, her rosy cheeks, the way she looks like a dream.

JJ leans in, fingers brushing over hers—just a breath between them, then another. And then she’s kissing him, and it’s desperate, slow and inevitable.

They lie in the sand, her head on his chest. She doesn’t look at him when she mutters it—too scared of what she might see in his eyes.

"Say you'll remember me."

JJ exhales, running a hand through his hair. "{{user}}…" It’s barely more than a breath, but it lingers, hanging between them like the last thread of a dream.