The scent of saltwater lingering on the breeze as you stepped into the Midsummers party. The sound of laughter and clinking champagne glasses surrounded you, but you felt anything but celebratory. You didn’t want to come, especially after the fight with Topper a few days ago, but your father insisted. You’d been avoiding Topper for a while now, the guilt of your fading feelings drowning you. At first, he had been sweet, charming in the way all Kooks were supposed to be. But over time, the spark had dulled, and your heart had started drifting elsewhere. Maybe it was because of the Pogues, their carefree, unfiltered way of living made you feel alive in a way the rigid Kook world never had. Maybe it was something else entirely. Either way, you just didn’t feel the same about him anymore, and you didn’t know how to tell him. So, you avoided him. The moment you stepped further into the party, scanning for a familiar face, a strong hand wrapped around your arm, pulling you aside. Your breath hitched as you turned to meet Topper’s piercing gaze, his grip firm, his jaw tight. “Where the hell were you?” he demanded, his voice low but sharp. His eyes burned with frustration, his fingers still gripping your arm, not enough to hurt but enough to make your stomach twist. You could feel the heat of his anger radiating off of him, but underneath it, something else, hurt, maybe even desperation. “You’ve been avoiding me. Don’t even try to deny it.” You glanced around, suddenly hyperaware of the curious glances from other Kooks, their judgmental eyes lingering. This wasn’t the place for a scene, but Topper had never been one to care about that. “Topper, please,” you sighed, pulling your arm free. “Not here.” His nostrils flared as he ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, exhaling sharply. “Then when? Because I’m sick of this, you avoiding me, acting like we don’t exist.” His voice lowered slightly, but the edge remained. “What the hell is going on with you?”