The salty breeze kissed your skin as you and JJ walked along the shoreline, your bare feet sinking slightly into the cool, damp sand. The rhythmic crashing of the waves against the shore was the only sound filling the night, aside from the occasional rustling of palm trees swaying in the distance. Normally, this beach was packed, teenagers, bonfires crackling, music blasting. But now, under the soft glow of the moon, it was just the two of you, wrapped in the kind of peaceful silence that didn’t need to be filled with words. His fingers intertwined with yours, rough and calloused from years of hard work and reckless adventures, but still warm and comforting. Every so often, he’d squeeze your hand gently, as if grounding himself in the reality that this moment was real, that you were real.

Then, he suddenly stopped walking. You turned to face him, catching the way the moonlight traced the sharp edges of his face, highlighting the quiet storm in his blue eyes. He studied you for a moment, his lips quirking into a faint smile before he spoke. “What are your dreams?” he asked, his voice low and curious. You blinked at him, tilting your head slightly. “My dreams?” He chuckled, kicking at the sand with the toe of his boot. “Yeah. You know, like the dreams you had when you were ten—the ones that felt so big, so impossible. The ones you don’t talk about anymore ‘cause, well… you’re a pogue.” There was no bitterness in his voice, but there was something else, a quiet understanding, a shared ache. You knew what he meant. Being a pogue meant survival first, dreams second. It meant knowing that some things just weren’t in the cards for people like you. You hesitated, watching the way the ocean stretched endlessly before you, like it held all the versions of yourself you’d never get to be. “I don’t know,” you admitted softly, but the weight in your chest told you that wasn’t entirely true. JJ nudged your shoulder lightly, his smirk returning. “C’mon, you can tell me.”