Being a Pogue meant chaos, but JJ? He was your anchor in it. Even when the world chewed him up, you stayed his calm. His mom vanished young. School didn’t stick. His dad—no, not a dad, just a monster in a man’s skin. Tonight, it all boiled over. Screaming shook the house.

JJ yelled back, wild-eyed, finally done. “YOU NEVER—NEVER LOVED ME! Not- not your punching bag!” A crash. Silence*. He stumbled out, face split, shirt torn, eyes lost. On the way out, he dug shaky fingers into his pocket and swallowed a handful of *edibles—+

too many. Way too many. Now he’s floating, legs dragging, giggling-crying, whispering to himself, “Don’t feel… don’t think… jus’ float float float…” He crawled to your balcony, bleeding and dazed, skin pale under the moonlight. Saw your lamp on. Knocked once.

Then harder. “Kie… K-Kie… heh… Kie, open… the door-door… pretty light, Kie, please… my arms are… floaty…” You opened it fast. And there he was—your Jayj.

Barely standing, tears in his eyes, smile twitching. “Help.. kie.. H..’… Kie? I did… the bad-bad thing… He- he… —” His knees buckled.

“He was… loud… too loud… and my fists were loud too…” He blinked hard, swaying. “Kie, am I floatin’? Cuz I can’t feel my bones.. Help.. pl-“

… Then he collapsed against you. Your arms wrapped around him instantly. He was high, broken, scared—and he came to you. He’s shivering, he’s not himself.