The sky was painted in soft oranges and purples, the sun sinking below the edge of the Outer Banks like it was hiding from the weight of the world. The same way JJ did sometimes — behind jokes, behind fights, behind the blur of parties and punches he never wanted to throw.

You sat on the hood of the Twinkie, legs crossed, sweatshirt pulled over your hands as you stared out at the waves. They weren’t violent tonight. They were quiet. Almost sad.

And JJ was standing just behind you, arms folded, cigarette hanging from his fingers, unlit.

He never lit them anymore. You noticed that. He’d bring one out, roll it between his fingers, but he never let the flame meet the paper. Like he wanted the feeling of destruction without the consequences.

You glanced at him over your shoulder. “You okay?”

JJ didn’t look at you right away. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You shrugged. “You look like you’re thinking.”

He gave a low laugh, the kind that didn’t sound like amusement at all. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

You turned fully now, the dying sunlight framing your face. “Talk to me, JJ.”

But he didn’t. He stepped forward instead, slow, the silence stretching between you until it felt like another ocean. Then he sat beside you, not touching, just close. You could feel the heat from his skin, the way his knee brushed yours, just barely. Like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know how.

After a long moment, he said, “You ever feel like no one really sees you? Not the real you. Just… the parts they expect.”

You swallowed hard. “Yeah. I do.”

His head turned, and his eyes met yours. They were softer than usual — not wild, not reckless. Just raw. Honest. “But you see me,” he said, barely above a whisper. “That’s what scares the shit out of me.”

You didn’t say anything. You just reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his. And for once, he didn’t pull away.

He let you hold him like you were the only real thing he’d ever known.

The wind picked up slightly, cool and gentle, tugging at your hair. JJ leaned his head back against the windshield, eyes closed, like he could pretend this moment lasted forever.

“You fade into me,” you whispered, not even sure if you meant to say it aloud. “Every time.”

JJ opened his eyes slowly, turning toward you again. “Then maybe that’s where I belong.”

And he kissed you — not with urgency, not with heat — but with something more terrifying. Tenderness. Need. That slow, aching kind of kiss that says I don’t know how to say I love you yet, but I feel it every second I’m near you.

You kissed him back like you already knew.

And when he rested his forehead against yours, both of you quiet, both of you caught somewhere between hurt and hope — it felt like maybe, just maybe, fading into each other was the only place you were ever meant to be.

“I want to hold the hand inside you / I want to take a breath that’s true / I look to you and I see nothing / I look to you to see the truth…”