#carraeras

[localsalt]

❛  don't you think you've already done enough damage for one day?  ❜

he scoffs whilst throwing his silver lighter up in the air, catching it in his fist before doing so again. god, he was so sick of this shit! " see, that's the problem right there, " john jacob says with a slight laugh to his tone, his fist encasing the lighter as his pointer is held out in the direction of kiara, however not in the slighest accusatory. it was a rarity that he'd heard any one of the other pogues reprimanded in the same way they did him. the blame always seemed to land on him, without fail, and he was tired of it; tired of feeling like the black sheep, the one who was constantly out of line and causing issues. couldn't they see that what he did was for them? " i mean, " he begins, shaking his head with a tight lipped smile. " why don't you ever give it to john b or pope, huh? why is it always my ass being chewed out all the time? they had it comin' anyways, y'all know that! " his voice raises at the last minute, his patience worn thin and the uncomfortable feeling of being outcast by the people he considered family was beginning to become all too much to process. he felt itchy, soiled; truly feeling the weight of what it was to be a maybank. never accepted, socially outcast and inevitably seen for the white trash local salts that they always had been. " y'know what? doesn't matter anyways, " john jacob's shoulders lift upwards carelessly, shoving his lighter into his pocket before he dips down to pick up his cap from the sofa on the chateau porch. without a second thought, he slips it on his head and slings his backpack upon a lone shoulder with bootfalls echoing towards the porch screen door. " 'm outta here. "

[localsalt]

the outer banks: paradise on earth. john jacob maybank can't pinpoint the last time he had been on kildare island. he felt as if he were a ghost, walking through the streets of his youth; haunting his childhood friends, standing from the outside looking in. he stood at the front of the chateau for a moment, hands firmly in the pockets of his jeans with his hood drawn up around the hat he'd actually worn faced frontward to obscure his features. it was as incognito as he could get, but at this late hour it was more than enough. john booker routledge had cautioned jj that he wouldn't be the one to break the news to @carraeras, that he had to be the one to confess that he wasn't dead, but very much alive. which was why he was here in the first place. john jacob had never been a subtle man.

his heart thud inside of his chest so loudly that he felt deaf, the throb felt in his eardrums. kiara carrera wasn't the type of woman to welcome him with open arms: she would curse him out, she would yell, hell, he deserved more than all of that. yet, jj forced himself to keep walking and without giving himself time to turn tail and put the pedal to the metal; he finds himself flinging the screen door of the chateau porch open. “ so, ” he breathed out, clapping his hands together in front of his chest, rubbing them together. truly, it was a way of disguising his hands preparing to defend his face. “ y'all been bored with me or what? ”

[localsalt]

"do you ever feel like. . . bad things are going to happen, and you can’t stop them? you can’t do anything, you just have to wait?" smoke billows in a defeated exhale, his heart thudding inside of his chest; john jacob's profile was slightly inclined towards @carraeras, though avoiding her gaze.

[localsalt]

❛ don’t mind me. just enjoying the view. ❜

he was lost in the labyrinth of his own mind; trail of thought bounding from topic to topic, mulling over his work load for the day ahead, wondering about the tides, reminding himself that he'll have to venture on back to the chateau after work tomorrow. for the sake of privacy, john jacob had driven straight from the garage to kiara's apartment, unable to shake the happiness that warms his heart; they had settled into a comfortability that jj never envisioned himself having. he'd used the spare key, bee-lining for her bathroom in order to wash the oil and sweat that coated his person; he found himself anxiously waiting for the front door to open again and to hear her voice call out to him. droplets of water pooled at the ends of his sandy blond tresses, trailing down the flushed skin that was a direct result of the scalding shower he had just taken.

john jacob hadn't noticed that kiara was leaning against the doorway to the bathroom, her honeyed hues drinking him in as he dried his hair on the bathmat, entirely in a world of his own as he wrapped the towel around his waist out of habit. as he goes to take a step forward, jj halts almost comically as his gaze trails up her own frame and settles upon her bemused expression; jj is unable to refrain from mirroring it. "when did you get home?" there is almost a bashfulness to his tone, a tenderness that is reserved only for her. he hadn't even noticed that he'd referred to her apartment as 'home', that no matter where they were, home was with her. his gait carries him towards her, arms snaking around her lithe waist, humming as he captures her lips in his own; a kiss that unmistakably displays how he had missed her all day. "i can think of a better one," john jacob muses, his smile against the softness of her mouth whilst firm hands trail down to cup the curve of her ass.

[localsalt]

how long have you known?

he can hear the mingling of betrayal and hurt in the tone of kiara's voice, the expression on her face sending a jolt of pain to his chest; his stomach dropping at the sight. john jacob didn't want to lie to her: he wanted to keep her safe. "kie. . ." the nickname flows from his lips in a defeated sigh, brimming with emotion. it was chance that john b routledge had entered the chateau the one night that kiara wasn't there. it was choice that lead to jj ensuring that neither john b or sarah reached out to let kiara know that they hadn't died that day, but rather fled and covered their tracks. what he had been dragged into was dangerous, the universe that he'd been exposed to was still bouncing around in his head; it hadn't sunk in quiet yet. and he knew kiara: she would bound in with her own gun's blazing for their friends. it what what jj had done.

his gaze drops to his feet, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip as if it were enough to will the emotion's from his system. he had every intention of telling kiara the truth; he should have known that the longer he waited to do so, the worse the outcome would be. "they came to the chateau the night you worked late and said you were too tired to come over. i didn't know they were coming. . ." john jacob allows himself to look back up at his girlfriend, the one person who had stood by him through every mishap, every dark moment; he was wracked with a guilt so palpable that he'd never felt it before. it was eating him alive. "i had to–" a hand raises, his throat closing up as his brows knit together. he finds himself squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, his blond lashes dusting his cheeks. "i didn't want you involved in what was happening. it– jesus christ, kie, i'm still trying to wrap my head around that shit." jj takes a step forward desperately aching to touch her although he knows that kiara needs her own space to process. she will need time to get over how he had lied to her for an entire month. "i didn't want to lie to you, okay? please–" there's a sting in the corner of his eyes as tears brim, moving to stand a few paces before kiara as he silently begs for her to understand. though, he can't understand himself how she could provide him that. "i just wanted to protect you."

[localsalt]

"but what if they still hate me?" kie about the pogues after the academy.

he wanted to laugh at her question; the only thing holding him back from doing such is that kiara is never unsure of herself. despite all the odds seemingly stacked against her being who she was, her parents rejection, never being truly seen as a pogue despite her lifestyle and her company; she stood firm in what she wanted. the one thing john jacob would never understand is how mike and anna can continue to push the kook lifestyle upon their daughter who is almost oozing with the pogue life. that no matter how many events they dressed her up for and forced her to attend, regardless of the baseless expensive gifts given in attempt to flaunt the status of their bank accounts, and now the school they have decided to send her to; kiara would always be a pogue, would always be exactly who she was. he couldn't see how anyone could hate her for that.

jj shakes his head, turning finally to look at her directly in a moment of sincerity. he'd never truly known her to be a person to ask for reassurance, to show insecurity, and he knew that if she was; he needed to at least try to do something to help. “ kie, they don't hate you a'ight? ” though, he couldn't blame her for coming to such a conclusion; john b and pope's reactions to kiara attending the kook academy had been far from ideal. admittedly, jj had taken it a little harder than expected. out of all the pogues, kiara had always been the one person who understood him right down to the core; he missed that in the hell - hole they called high school. “ they're like, annoyed maybe and a little left in the dust but they'll get over it, it's not like you want to be there or anything. ” that much he did know, kiara hated it at that school and the other girls were insufferable; teasing her jewellery, the way she wore her hair, the fact that she was friends with the pogues in the first place. he hated it for her, all of it. “ i know they will, pogues for life, right? ” there was a light chuckle, his arm slinging around her shoulders to pull her closer to his side for a moment in hopes that she found the notion at least a little comforting. he'd never been good at it. but he'd try, for her.

[localsalt]

john jacob had been sneaking into the wilderness outside district twelve for years now, using the tranquility to both clear his head and hunt for illegal game; being the poorest district and raised by a man who's money was spent on anything other than food, it was the only way to survive other than taking out tesserae. this would be his last reaping and it was a miracle that his name had not been plucked yet. he turns his head, chewing the last of the bread that he had insisted @carraeras take most of, and purses his lips tightly after swallowing. “ this is the last time we'll be together before reaping in a few days, ” he admits, debating whether or not to voice what had been plaguing his mind during the lead up. there had been a niggling inside of him, one that convinced him that john jacob would hear his name called by the escort and he'd find himself whisked to the capitol to prepare for the games. “ and i don't think i'll see you again. ”

[localsalt]

alright, so he was flirting at the boneyard and maybe he knew that he shouldn't have been doing it; but it wasn't going to lead anywhere, it was harmless. well, at least that's what he was upholding. in reality, jj was sabotaging; when things go too well for too long, he doesn't trust for the ball not to drop and sometimes the anticipation of it happening ( or not happening ) provokes him to drop it himself. “ kie, nothing even happened so what's the big deal? ” his tone is drenched in irritation, brows furrowed as he waves a hand out as if to invite @carraeras to explain; as if he were clueless. “ nothing was even going to happen, you know that. ”