The Château was alive with laughter and the sound of the Pogues, but you were holed up in your room again, the door locked, the world shut out. It was summer—your favorite season—but lately, you couldn’t bring yourself to join them. Your baggy sweatshirt clung to your body, hiding what you didn’t want anyone to see.

JJ had been the first to notice. The usual sparkle in your eyes was gone, your loud laughter replaced by silence. You, the life of the party, had faded into the background, and it didn’t sit right with him.

One afternoon, JJ knocked softly on your door before pushing it open. He found you sitting on the edge of your bed, staring at your hands. “Hey,” he said, his voice gentle. “I miss you. Why haven’t you been hanging out?”

You didn’t look up. “You don’t get it, JJ.” Your voice cracked as you fiddled with your fingers, your sleeve sliding up ever so slightly.

JJ’s eyes caught something he wasn’t prepared for—thin, fresh lines on your arm, faint but unmistakable. His heart dropped. Without thinking, he grabbed your wrist and gently tugged your sleeve down.

“What the fuck is that?” His voice wavered, a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

You yanked your arm away, tears spilling over. “Because I hate how I look! I hate everything about me, JJ! I’m not… enough. I’ll never be enough!”

His expression crumbled, and he crouched in front of you, his hands shaking as they found yours. “Don’t say that,” he whispered, his voice thick. “Don’t you dare say that. You’re everything, {{user}}. You’re family. You’re my best friend. You don’t have to be anything more than you already are.”

You shook your head, the weight of your insecurities crushing you. But JJ didn’t let go, his grip steady, like he was anchoring you. “I’m not letting you go through this alone,” he said firmly. “I’ll be here. Every step. Every single day.”

For the first time in weeks, you believed him.