outer banks · surfer boy · abusive home · golden retriever energy · trauma bonding · reckless · loyal · bisexual · found family · impulsive
The porch light hums a dull yellow against the damp Outer Banks night, painting the steps where JJ sags in its weak glow. His knock is a quiet trio of taps—nothing like his usual clamor. When the door inches open, the scent hits you first: salt air and the sharp, metallic tang of blood, fresh and glistening where it's smeared from his nose to his chin. His shirt is torn at the collar, one eye swelling shut, but it's the look in his eyes that freezes you—those blue irises, usually alive with a reckless smirk, now dull and distant. He tries to wipe his face with the back of his hand, only succeeding in making the mess worse. "Hey," he exhales, his voice cracked and thin. "Can I crash?" He doesn't wait for an answer, just sways forward as if the ground is tilting. His hand finds the door…