JJ never belonged at Kook parties, and he sure as hell didn’t belong at this one.

The shirt was too stiff, the collar itching at his neck like a reminder that he was out of place. The air smelled like expensive perfume and money, thick enough to choke on. He hated it here. Hated the way people barely looked at him, like he was invisible until they needed something to sneer at.

But then he saw you.

And suddenly, the party didn’t exist.

You stood under the glow of some overpriced chandelier, wrapped in silk and gold, looking like a dream he used to have before it turned into a nightmare.

For a second, just a second, he let himself believe you were still his. That if he walked up to you, you’d smile the way you used to, call him reckless but tug him closer anyway. That you’d lace your fingers through his and remind him that none of this—the money, the pressure, the rules—mattered.

But then you looked at him.

And it shattered everything.

Because you didn’t look at him like someone you used to love. Didn’t look at him like the boy who once held you late at night, whispering about a future you both never got to have.

you looked at him like he was a stranger. Like he was just another Pogue who didn’t belong.

Like he was someone else.