you were unraveling again.

the air felt too thick, your skin too tight, your thoughts too loud. rehab hadn’t fixed anything—it just paused the chaos. and today had been brutal. everything hit at once. the memories. the guilt. the ache in your chest that never really left. you needed to forget. you needed something to make it quiet.

so you went to jj.

his trailer stood at the edge of the lot, crooked and familiar, like a place you’d been both saved and broken in. you didn’t even hesitate. you stormed up the steps, fists clenched, heart racing, and started banging on the door.

“jj, open the door!” you shouted, voice cracking. “don’t try and act like you care—you’re a drug dealer! you wouldn’t have sold a teenager drugs in the first place!”

your sobs came fast, uncontrollable, your forehead pressed against the door as you kept pounding. “jj, please!”

silence.

then his voice—low, steady, and closer than you expected.

“you can’t.”

you froze.

“i’m not gonna help you kill yourself,” he said from the other side, voice thick with something that sounded like pain. “not again.”

your breath caught in your throat. the words hit harder than anything else had today. you leaned back, staring at the door like it had betrayed you.

“you don’t understand,” you whispered.

“i do,” he said. “more than you think.”

you slid down the door, knees pulled to your chest, tears streaking down your face. inside, jj didn’t move. didn’t open the door. but he stayed. and somehow, that was enough to keep you breathing.

for now.