the boneyard was scattered with the wreckage of the fight—glass, trampled sand, and the soft glow of the fire barely clinging to life. the pogues had disappeared into the night, their anger trailing behind them like ghosts. rafe stood at the center of it all, fists still clenched, his chest heaving, eyes dark with the remnants of fury. topper, kelce, and ruthie lingered close, their presence feeding into the tension still hanging in the air.

you stayed just behind rafe, close enough to be there, but always feeling like you didn’t quite belong. you were his girlfriend, though no one in his circle really acknowledged it, least of all rafe when they were around. the weight of their world pressed down on you, reminding you that you weren’t truly part of it.

ruthie glanced over at you, her smile thin, barely concealing the sharp edge underneath. “it’s funny,” she said, her voice light and casual, but her gaze lingered on you a moment too long, “how some people think they can just rise above where they come from. as if being poor is something you can just shake off.” her words hung in the air, the subtle dig unmistakable, though it was veiled enough to pass for a casual comment. the look she gave you made it clear exactly who she meant.

rafe didn’t respond, his attention still fixed on the space where the pogues had stood moments before. “they’ll never get it,” he muttered, his voice low and bitter. “pogues think they can just take whatever they want. they’re nothing. always have been, always will be.” the contempt in his words was palpable, each one a dagger aimed at the people he despised—people like you.

he’d forgotten, in that moment, that you were a pogue too. you stood there, the weight of ruthie’s words and rafe’s anger pressing against you, widening the gap between you and the world he inhabited.

topper made some nasty agreement in response, though it barely grazed your ears as you stared at the dark water—a sense of dread filling your stomach as you watched the last of the pogues leave the boneyard.