jj had been different lately. not in his usual, chaotic way — not the kind where he’s laughing louder than everyone, cracking dumb jokes, and diving off the pier like he’s got nothing to lose. no. this was something else. quieter. strangely cold. like he’d become a shadow of himself.

you’d noticed. of course you had. you’d known him too long not to tell the difference between when he was just mad at the world and when he was actually drowning. and even though he kept pretending everything was fine, you knew that behind every “i’m fine” with him, there was always a storm.

that evening, everyone was hanging out at the chateau. john b was grilling fish, kiara was trying to keep sarah from setting her hair on fire by the bonfire, and pope was somewhere arguing with someone over cards. everyone was laughing, music was blasting through an old speaker, the air thick with salt and smoke — a typical obx night.

and jj… he was outside. again. supposedly “smoking,” though the cigarette had long burned out between his fingers. he was just sitting there, staring out into the dark, where the waves broke against the shore.

at some point, you just couldn’t take it anymore. you grabbed your hoodie, pulled it on over your swimsuit, and went out to him. the air was warm, but the ocean breeze carried a chill. the wooden boards creaked under your steps, and he turned his head slightly.

“you spying on me or something?” he smirked, not really looking at you — just out of habit, like muscle memory.

“yeah, totally,” you said, sitting beside him and leaning against the railing. “just checking to make sure the wind hasn’t blown you away yet.”

he let out a short laugh, but his eyes stayed fixed somewhere far off. you saw the way his jaw tightened, how his nails scraped lightly against the edge of the board.

“jj,” you said softly. “you’ve been gone. not like… physically. but like you’re not here anymore.”

he didn’t answer. the wind tugged at his blond hair, carrying the mix of salt, gas, and smoke — the scent that was just him.

“i just…” he finally exhaled. “i’m tired. of all of it. my dad. the debts. the constant crap.” a crooked smile crossed his lips. “probably tired of myself too.”

you didn’t know what to say. so you just shifted closer until your shoulder brushed his arm.

“you don’t always have to be the strong one, jay,” you murmured. your voice almost got lost in the sound of the waves.

he smiled faintly — just a little — but in his eyes, for the first time in a while, there was something real. fragile.