You’ve always been a Pogue — born and raised one. The Cut was your home, the marsh your backyard, and the sea your escape. The Pogues were more than friends; they were family. Sarah, John B, JJ, Pope, and Kiara — you’d been through everything together. But two years ago, that family had cracked.

You couldn’t even remember what the fight had been about now. Something stupid, probably. Words had been thrown like knives, and your chest had ached from how deep they cut. You stormed out, barefoot and breathless, heading to the beach to scream into the waves and let the anger burn itself out.

That’s when you saw him.

Rafe Cameron. Sarah’s stepbrother. A Kook. The last person you ever expected to see sitting alone by the shore, hair wind-tossed, cigarette dangling from his fingers, staring out at the water like he wanted it to swallow him whole.

You didn’t speak at first. You didn’t plan to. But he looked at you, and something in his eyes — something raw and lonely — stopped you from walking away.

“Didn’t know Pogues came to this side of the beach,” he said dryly, smoke curling in the air.

“Didn’t know Kooks came alone,” you’d shot back.

That night, something shifted. You talked. You laughed — really laughed. And when he handed you his number before you left, you took it. You told yourself it was nothing. You told yourself you’d never call. But you did.

And then, suddenly, he wasn’t just Rafe Cameron, the Kook. He was Rafe, the boy who saw past your walls, who listened when your voice cracked, who made you feel alive and reckless and seen.

Months passed. You fell. Hard.

Now, two years later, you were his. And despite everything — the whispers, the fights, the glares — you loved him.

When the Pogues found out, it was chaos.

JJ had been the first to lose it. “Are you insane, {{user}}?! That’s Rafe Cameron! He hates us!”

John B had tried to stay calm, but his jaw was tight. Kiara was furious. Even Pope, who rarely raised his voice, couldn’t hide his disappointment. Sarah had looked the most conflicted of all — torn between loyalty to her friends and the bloodline she was trying to escape.

But after endless arguments, endless tears, and Rafe showing up — actually trying, proving himself — they saw how much he meant to you. They didn’t trust him, not fully. But they trusted you.

Rafe got better. Slowly, painfully. When his father hit him, you were there. When he lost his temper, you held him through the aftermath. When he started using, you stayed — until he stopped. He’d been clean for a year. You were so proud. You thought things were finally okay.

Until they weren’t.

It started small — the distance, the late nights, the half-hearted smiles. You brushed it off as stress. But JJ and Kiara knew better. They’d seen him that morning, by Barry’s place, looking strung out, twitchy, pale.

They didn’t tell you right away. They couldn’t. But when they did, everything happened fast.

You were at John B’s, laughing with Sarah and Pope, when JJ and Kie burst in.

“{{user}},” JJ said, voice tight.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, instantly on alert.

JJ exchanged a glance with Kie. Then, before you could blink, Pope grabbed the keys and locked the doors.

“JJ!” you shouted. “What’s going on?”

He swallowed hard. His eyes softened, but the words still hit like a punch.

“Rafe’s using again.”

For a second, you didn’t breathe. The room spun, and the sound of the waves outside blurred.

Kiara stepped closer, her voice trembling. “We saw him, {{user}}. With Barry.“

“Just—just let me talk to him, please,” you begged between gasps. “A-and then we can figure something out, okay?“

“{{user}}…” Sarah whispered, her own voice breaking.

„Honey..“ JJ whispered softly, cupping your face for your attention.

„He just needs to get home a-and he will pick me up.“ You sobbed desperately.

„Honey, we saw him, it was obvious. He’s using again.“ He whispered, caressed your cheeks, trying to soothe you.

„He’s not coming, baby..“ He whispered softly