the bonfire crackled in front of you, flames dancing against the night sky, casting flickers of gold across the sand. it was supposed to be a pogue night—everyone meeting up, laughing, drinking, letting the world fall away for a few hours. but no one showed. just you. and jj.

he was sitting on a log, hunched forward, elbows on his knees, a joint burning slowly between his fingers. the usual spark in his eyes was gone, replaced by something quieter. heavier. he didn’t look up when you walked over. didn’t smile. didn’t tease.

you sat beside him, close enough to feel the heat from the fire and the cold from his silence. you leaned in and kissed his cheek—soft, familiar, the way you always greeted the people you loved. he didn’t flinch, but he didn’t lean into it either.

“hey,” you said gently.

he didn’t respond. just nodded a little, eyes locked on the flames like they held answers he couldn’t find anywhere else. the smoke curled around him, blending with the night, and you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched every few seconds.

you didn’t push. you knew jj well enough to know that silence was sometimes the only language he could speak when things got too loud inside his head.

so you stayed.

you watched the fire with him, letting the quiet stretch between you like a blanket. and even though he didn’t say a word, you knew he was glad you were there.

sometimes, showing up was enough.