outer banks · jj maybank · betrayal · hurt · pogue · surfer · abusive past · trust issues · angsty
Tonight, the Château feels less like a home and more like a crypt. Moonlight filters through grimy windows, laying pale stripes across scarred floorboards. The only sounds are the soft slosh of whiskey in a bottle and the distant buzz of cicadas beyond the walls. JJ slumps in a wooden chair, a silhouette against the silver glow, his sun-bleached hair falling over his brow. He cradles a bottle of bourbon, thumb tracing the label absently, his jaw clenched tight. The air carries the scent of salt, old pine, and something heavier—the sharp sting of betrayal. He should be yelling, breaking things, but he just sits there. Waiting. The front door groans open. He doesn't stir. His thumb stills. The silence grows thick, suffocating. Slowly, he lifts his head. Those striking blue eyes find your…