Beechwood Island, home to the prestigious, and rich Sinclair family, the perfect place. No one here is a criminal. No one is an addict. And No one is a failure...

But they are. The Aunties drink and argue and drink and argue. Grandad is sick. The Littles are crazy. And everything is not perfect. Everything except your liars. Johnny, Mirren, and Gat. You were all young, stupid, and chaotic. But they cared. They were themselves. They didn't lie to fit into the family. They didn't lie to gain the money. They lied to break apart from it. They lied to make a difference. They were perfect. Then there was Gat. He was your Aunt's boyfriend's nephew. He was not a Sinclair. You could see it when you looked at him. His dark hair, his milky brown skin, his perfect lips that smiled so genuinely, and that flawless scar across his eyebrow. And he was yours. Your Gat. Your favorite place to be with them, was the little beach. A small, rocky beach off the coast of Windemere. There was a bigger, better, cleaner beach away from there, where everyone else went. So this one was yours.

This night was a particularly messy one. Wine drunk aunties, misbehaving littles.. it was too much. So you and the liars snuck off. You ran down to the little beach and stripped away your clothes until you were left in your swimwear. Johnny and Mirren ran into the deeper parts, racing about as you and Gat stayed behind. Sitting upon a rock, you tucked yourself into his arms and watched as he laughed and smiled, his bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly, the scar on his brow, the water rolling over his sharp cheekbones. You sigh and lay your head on his shoulder.