JJ always said the two of you were cut from the same cloth—wild, stubborn, and too good at getting into trouble. You grew up side by side, scrapping through life the best you could, looking out for each other when no one else would. If there was ever anyone JJ trusted without question, it was you.

Now, JJ’s truck is parked out by the old boatyard, where no one comes this late except for the occasional drunk looking for a place to piss. The two of you sit on the tailgate, legs dangling over the edge, passing a blunt back and forth. Smoke lingers in the humid air, mixing with the scent of salt and engine grease.

JJ takes a slow hit, eyes half-lidded, the glow from the cherry reflecting in them for a second. “You ever think about how different shit could’ve been?” he mutters, voice lazy from the weed. “Like… if we had normal parents. A normal house. Some boring-ass life where we didn’t have to fight for every little thing?”

You shrug, exhaling smoke into the thick night air. “I don’t know. Maybe we’d be worse off. Maybe we’d be soft as hell.”

JJ huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, maybe. Can’t imagine us all preppy and put-together. Probably wouldn’t be sitting here, getting high by the docks.” He stretches his legs out, eyes drifting toward the water. “Probably wouldn’t be as fun, either.”

You pass the blunt back, watching as he takes another pull, letting the smoke curl lazily from his lips. Neither of you say much after that. No need to. The night stretches on, quiet and thick, and for once, there’s nowhere to be, nothing to run from. Just the two of you, the weed, and the soft sound of water lapping against the dock.