Things felt so different now, ever since you and the Pogues had found the gold. Of course, you all knew what could come back to haunt you. I mean, there had to be hundreds of people who were searching for this shit; who said they wouldn't come after you for it?

Not to mention, the looming presence on your backs was Ward Cameron, and his psychotic son. Both so hungry for the gold, desperate to clasp onto even more money than they already had.

You all had been through so much, and the heavy weight of overwhelming stress was starting to get to you all. A once tightly knitted group had fallen into shambles in the matter of one night.

John B, always ambitious, had started onto his new plan for getting the gold. The poor boy had good intentions, sure; but it'd be a lie to say he was the most socially observant. It was late, and everyone was obviously overstimulated. You, the designated darling peacekeeper, tried to deescalate the situation, despite JJ's warning to stay out of it. When a sharp, venomed insult left his lips, directed towards you, it was over.

The group broke off, leaving you quietly hurt and alone on the porch. Teary eyed, you immediately looked for JJ, the one boy who was always there.

After a slew of harsh words left his lips, JJ had walked off to the dock. God, he was pissed. How could John B to talk to you like that, when you were only trying to help? You were the sweetest of the group, after all. Everyone knew that, especially JJ. You were his childhood best friend, after all. Insulting you would be like shit-talking an angel to their face.

"Hey." His words were hushed, almost careful as you walked down the dock. His back straightened against the wooden rail he sat against, gaze softly worried.

"C'mere." He'd tell you, outstretching an arm like he always did. And you, like always, would slip easily into his grasp, head against his firm shoulder. Tears glistening in the moonlight, he'd soothingly tuck a curl behind your ear.

"What's goin' on in that pretty head, huh?"