ɞ Y/N Cameron is trying to escape from her little bubble. Sad inside in this life, unsatisfied, prayin’ and waitin’. Was she meant to feel happy that her life? Was just about to change? Once she cross the line, will she be satisfied?
| JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader | Chapter 5
Warnings: breathing problems, smut, death, mental health problems, english is not my first language.
The Camerons' house was illuminated by the midday sun, as usual. It was like a calm coastline after a storm. Things had changed, things had been damaged, but tranquility had returned. Y/N clutched the package tightly as she walked towards the room next to the stairs. Last night had been pretty intense. It was very different from other Midsummers, which unfortunately didn't bode well.
"Hey," she said, trying to make her presence known.
When she entered through the open door, she saw John B, with whom they will now be sharing a home, tossing and turning awkwardly in his new bed. She was glad that he and her sister weren't kissing or cuddling.
“Oh, what’s up Y/N?” Said John B.
"I wanted to stop by and see how you were doing after last night."
John B shifted, pushing himself up against the headboard with a small wince, like his body hadn’t gotten the memo that the danger had passed.
“Still breathing,” he said lightly. “Which feels like a win, all things considered.”
“That’s definitely a win.”
Y/N gave a faint smile and stepped further into the room, closing the door behind her with deliberate care. She glanced around—everything was still untouched, too perfect, like the room hadn’t decided whether it accepted him yet.
“I bought you something,” she said, lifting the package slightly.
John B’s brow furrowed. “You didn’t have to.” Sarah's smile widened, and she looked at her sister, thanking her.
“I know.” She crossed the room anyway and placed it on the edge of the bed. “But I wanted to.”
He peeled back the paper carefully. Inside was a not very ostentatious —soft, worn at the cuffs—and a small brown envelope tucked beneath it.
"Think of it as a welcome-to-home gift." And she added, "By the way, don't even think about selling it, I bought it with the money I earned working at the golf club."
“Thanks again.” He said it quite sincerely. “And thanks for that thing too, I know you helped Sarah.”
She couldn't help but glance at the door before speaking. “You have to tell me later what you found. I made a lot of sacrifices for that map."
“Like what? Even though you was keeping watch, dad caught me.”
“I flirted with Topper." she said, as if revealing something apparent.
“I have to admit, Sarah, this is a difficult thing."
“Right! Vlad gets me sister, not you.”
John B looked at her with a weary expression. "Great, Y/N knows too?"
"She read the note you gave me."
"Don't worry, I don't judge you. I've seen worse." Sarah gently slapped her sister's arm, not hard enough to hurt her.
Sarah walked to the window and cracked it open, letting in the salt air. “Rules are simple,” she continued. “Don’t wander the house at night. Avoid Rafe. And if Rose asks you anything—say as little as possible.”
Y/N frowned. “You make it sound like a witness protection program.”
“It kind of is,” Sarah replied.
“Oh by the way, Rafe does not stay at here for a while.”
Sarah looked at her with a confused expression. “What do you mean?”
Y/N sprang up on her tiptoes. “Well, a few things happened, and because of that dad kicked him out of the house."
“I didn’t understand a shit.”
She sighed, as if wanting to drop the subject. "It's the usual stuff, Sarah, don't get on my nerves."
John B walked to the window, resting his palms against the glass. Outside, the island looked deceptively peaceful. Like nothing bad had ever happened there. Like it wasn’t built on secrets and sunken things.
“This doesn’t mean I’m one of you,” he said quietly. Not accusatory. Just factual.
Sarah stepped closer. “It doesn’t have to.”
Y/N joined them, standing on his other side. “You’re still you,” she said. “This house doesn’t get to change that.”
He glanced at her, searching her face as if checking whether she meant it. She held his gaze steadily. John B understood he was in love with Sarah while standing on top of the wooden shack, but her sister was a completely different story. He had known her for a long time, albeit from a distance. He remembered their brief conversations while he worked there, and all of them were different from the usual Kook's behavior. She greeted him every time she saw him. She'd give him one of the beers he'd helped steal, and she was also always the one who delivered his paychecks. John B didn't use that word often, but Y/N Cameron was a quite likeable? He tried to recall a wrongdoing she had committed, but he couldn't remember one. And on top of all that, yesterday she had also helped steal the map.
“Okay,” he said finally. God only knows how others would have reacted when he will bring Cameron sisters along. While Kiara was still angry about Sarah, he was bringing another bomb with him.
“Y/N is just as involved in this as you are. She can come to the meeting at Chateau.”
Y/N stiffened almost imperceptibly.
Sarah turned to John B, surprised. “Wait—what?”
He shifted his weight, suddenly very aware that he’d just said something that couldn’t be taken back. “I mean… she already is involved. Whether we like it or not.”
Y/N let out a short, disbelieving breath. “John B, you don’t have to—”
“I do,” he interrupted gently. “You helped us. You covered for Sarah. You took heat from Topper. From your brother.” His jaw tightened at the last part. “You’re already in this.”
Sarah searched her sister’s face. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”
Y/N hesitated. For a fraction of a second, the house seemed to close in around her—the white walls, the expensive silence, the expectations humming in the air like electricity. This was the line. One step further and things wouldn’t be easily undone.
Then she straightened her shoulders. “If I don’t go,” she said calmly, “I’ll spend all day pretending nothing’s happening. And I’m really bad at pretending lately.”
John B nodded, relieved. “Okay. Then it’s settled.”
“Not exactly,” Sarah said, narrowing her eyes. “Kiara already hates me. Pope barely tolerates the idea of me. JJ—”
“They will survive,” John B said dryly. “We Pogues always does.”
Y/N’s lips twitched despite herself.
Sarah sighed. “Fine. But you need to understand something.” She turned fully toward her sister now, voice softening. “Once you step into that place, it’s not just Pogues and Kooks anymore. It’s dangerous. For real.”
“I know,” Y/N replied. “And, I'm not going to let you have all the fun by yourself.”
Hours later, Y/N and Sarah were sitting side-by-side on the sofa on the veranda of Chateau. The wood was warm beneath them, sun-bleached and splintered in places, like the house itself—held together by stubbornness more than care. Pope sat to their left, posture stiff, like he already regretted agreeing to this meeting. JJ lounged beside him, one foot hooked on the railing, all restless energy and sharp edges. Across from them, Kiara paced, arms folded tight, boots scuffing the boards.
Y/N had greeted Pope briefly when they entered, but hadn't looked at JJ. Or rather, she couldn't. Their last meeting had been in Midsummer, and Y/N couldn't understand why she felt uncomfortable around him. They didn't know each other, and she couldn't expect JJ to be completely nice to her just because she'd helped him. Still, it felt strange.
“You brought her in here. Actually you brought two of them here! Was there a buy one get one free campaign?”
“What the hell is that mean?” Sarah said.
“It’s mean just because you left your nice homes and came here, does that mean you have become one of us!"
“Look, all I care about is they cut come out of your share John B.” Y/N laughed sarcastically when JJ said that.
“Is there any problem Sugar?”
She, recoiled from the irritating nature of her nickname. That nickname is for family, not for him. Y/N finally looked at him. Slowly. Deliberately. “No,” she said evenly. “Is there one?”
JJ’s mouth twitched, half a smirk, half something sharper. She really looked like sugar in that dress today. But her tongue was pretty sharp, so actually JJ could call her sour sugar. Her dad must have paid tons of money for that dress and necklace on her pretty neck.
“Just checkin’.” He said. “You laughed like I’d personally robbed you Sweetcheeks.”
“You did,” she replied without missing a beat. “Emotionally. Back at the Island Club.” And the moment she said that, she froze. Why had she said that? Why? What the fuck are you doing Y/N? She couldn't control herself, and the words just spilled out of her mouth.
Sarah let out a quiet groan. “Please don’t start.”
Kiara stopped pacing and turned on them both. “No, actually—let’s start. Because I don’t get this.” She gestured between Y/N and Sarah. “You two don’t just get to show up here and suddenly be part of this.”
Y/N shifted on the sofa, folding her hands together. “I didn’t say I was.”
“Then what are you?” Kiara pressed.
"Oh my God Kiara!” Y/N snapped before she could soften it. “Why are you suddenly being so rude to me? Just a few days ago we were painting a surfboard together!" Kiara sighed, turned away, and left the question unanswered. Sarah ditched her, but things weren't that bad between her and Y/N.
“I told you.” Sarah said.
“Told him what exactly? That you are a liar?”
“No,” her sister shot back. “That you’re a shit-talking bitch.”
"Then watch how you talk to my sister, Kiara!" Sarah cut in, sharp as a blade. The tension thickened. John B glanced at Sarah—really looked this time—and saw something he hadn’t expected. She wasn’t playing about her sister, that’s her line.
“You two show up here like it’s a field trip. Like you can just step out of your Kook lives and play outlaw for a night, and guess what? We are not a vigilante gang. Neither of you will ever be Robin.”
Y/N clutched the pillow in her lap, as if trying to suppress the rage welling up inside her. "Yes, we're Kook, Kiara, and you know what? At the end of the day, you're no different from us, are you? You drive your brand-new car back to your family's beautiful house. You can smoke weed and hang out here as much as you want. You're no better than us."
Pope cleared his throat. “Okay. New rule. No killing each other on the porch.”
Sarah leaned closer to Y/N, voice low. “You don’t have to prove anything.”
“I know,” Y/N murmured. Then, louder, to all of them: “Look, we are not here to be a Pogue. We are not here to be a Cameron either. We are here because whatever this is—” she gestured vaguely toward the house, the map, the mess “—We both already tangled in it.”
Kiara watched her carefully. “And when it gets ugly?”
Y/N didn’t hesitate. “It already has.”
JJ let out a slow breath through his nose, shaking his head. “Jesus. Cameron girl’s got guts.”
Kiara sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I just don’t want this turning into… something else.”
Y/N nodded. “Neither do I.”
JJ stood up abruptly, pacing a few steps before turning back toward her. “You’ve been avoiding lookin’ at me since you walked in.”
She met his gaze this time, steady. “Because the last time I did, you made it very clear what you think of people like me.”
His jaw tightened. “I say a lotta things.”
“That doesn’t make them harmless.”
Silence fell. Even the cicadas seemed to quiet. JJ exhaled slowly. “Fair.”
His words hung there, awkward and exposed. It wasn’t an apology, but it wasn’t nothing.
John B’s comment cut through the tension like a blade. “I don’t know where this conversation between the two of you came from, but sort it out between yourselves.”
JJ scoffed first, breaking the tension. “Yeah, ‘cause we’re totally famous for our healthy communication.”
Pope shot him a look. “He’s not wrong though. We’ve got bigger stuff to worry about.”
JJ rolled his shoulders once, then dropped back onto the arm of the sofa instead of sitting properly—like he didn’t want to choose a side of the space. His knee bounced. “Fine. Sorting it out. But I'm telling you, Sugar is just getting angry on her own. There's nothing wrong with me.”
Y/N knew he'd said those things to annoy her. There really wasn't anything to it besides her silly feelings, but he still couldn't resist making fun of it.
Sarah bristled immediately. “Look, We didn’t exactly invite ourselves.”
“No, John B did,” Kiara shot back. “Which is kind of the problem.”
John B straightened. “Hey, okay everybody shut up. Look Kie, you are my bestfriend right? And Sarah you…”
“You are my girlfriend.” Y/N chuckled in surprise. When had they even reached the dating stage? She wanted to say something sarcastic that would spoil the atmosphere, but the expression on John B's face was quite sincere. And then, when she looked at his sister, her eyes were sparkling with happiness. So she kept her mouth shut and leaned back. After all, John B was a way better than Topper.
“Is she your girlfriend now? What was all that talk about you were just using her for information? Get a map, cut her loose.”
“What the fuck John B?” Y/N said angrly.
“You said you were using me?”
“Look, love just walked in, okay?”
"That was the most ridiculous explanation I've ever heard."
“That’s corny.” Pope said and JJ chuckled.
“Cut the bullshit John B, if they in I’m out okay?” And she added. “I like you Y/N, you know that. You didn’t screwed me, but this is different okay?
Silence followed Kiara’s words, heavier than the humidity pressing down on the porch. Y/N felt it settle in her chest first. Not anger—something duller. Disappointment, maybe. She nodded slowly, absorbing it instead of deflecting it.
“I get it,” she said quietly. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”
Kiara looked at her then, really looked at her, and for a moment her resolve wavered. “It’s not about you,” she insisted, though it sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as anyone else. “It’s about what this turns into. Every time someone new gets pulled in, things go sideways.”
JJ scoffed under his breath. “Newsflash, Kie. Things were already sideways.”
“Not like this,” Kiara snapped back. “Not with Camerons involved.”
John B stepped forward again, hands out. “Okay, okay. Nobody’s leaving. That’s not happening.”
“You don’t get to decide that,” Kiara said.
“No,” he agreed. “But I do get to say this—we’re already in too deep. All of us. There’s no clean version of this anymore.”
Y/N swallowed. She hadn’t planned on speaking again, but something in Kiara’s face—fear more than anger—pulled the words out of her. They had said whatever came to mind to each other, but she couldn't stay angry for long. A small part of her understood Kiara. This wasn’t about her. Not really. It was about fear. About losing the only thing that had ever felt stable to them.
“I’m not here to replace anyone,” she said. “And I’m definitely not here to mess this up. If walking away makes this safer for you, I can—”
“No,” Sarah said immediately, gripping her hand. “You’re not doing that. You and I gave the map, not just me.”
JJ leaned back, stretching his legs out. “Great. Group therapy session over?”
John B rubbed his face, relief and stress colliding. “So… we good enough to move on?”
Kiara stopped pacing. The cicadas were loud again, like they’d been waiting for permission to breathe. She turned to face John B, eyes sharp, jaw set. “John B,” she said, voice tight but controlled, “Me or them. Choose one.”
The words landed heavy. Not dramatic—final. Y/N felt her stomach drop. She didn’t look at Sarah. She didn’t look at JJ. She watched John B, because this was his moment and she knew it. Knew how much weight he carried in silence.
John B didn’t hesitate. “Both,” he said simply. “I want all three of you, okay?”
For half a second, Kiara looked like she might argue. Like she might throw something, say something she couldn’t take back. Her eyes flicked to Sarah, then to Y/N—not accusing, just wounded.
“Right,” she said. “Of course you do.”
She grabbed her bag from the chair, slung it over her shoulder. “Have fun playing house.”
But she was already walking off the porch. The screen door slammed hard enough to rattle the windows. Silence followed. Thick. Awkward. Permanent-feeling. Y/N stared at the empty space Kiara had occupied, her chest tight. She hated this part—the part where people got hurt in ways that didn’t bleed.
She let out a slow breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her chest felt tight—not panicked, just heavy. She stood up, smoothing her sleeves out of habit. “I think… we should go too,” she said quietly.
Sarah nodded immediately. “Yeah. Probably.”
John B turned toward them, guilt flashing across his face. “You don’t have to—”
“We do,” Sarah replied gently. “We need space. And so do you apparently.”
Y/N met his eyes. “We’ll talk later, dinner at six.” He nodded, clearly wanting to say more, but not knowing how.
They walked down the steps together. Sarah’s shoulder brushed Y/N’s, grounding her as they crossed the yard in silence. Neither of them spoke until they were far enough away that the porch was just a shape behind them.
“You know Sarah, it’s kinda have a point.”
“You two acting like a Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr. You unfairly excluded her, and you were mostly to blame for it. Not Kiara. You're pushing people away.” When Sarah opened her mouth angrily, she silenced her.
"Stop before saying something you'll regret. You know I'm right."
"I didn't know you were in love with Kiara."
Y/N rolled her eyes. "Look, Sarah, this is our only chance. It's the last opportunity for both of us to feel alive before the husbands my dad set us up with. We can't miss this, understand?"
She wanted her sister to understand her. She wanted a sign of life in their lives. "When I turn thirty, and I'm just a drunkard with three kids, all I want is something to remember."
"Then fix things with Kiara, I don't care how you do it. I'm not saying you should become best friends again or anything. Just get that mountain out of between you."
Sarah sighed in frustration, but she knew her sister was right. This was their only shot, and the ball was in her court. If she took her shot correctly, they would win. “Okay, I’ll try.”
“Thank you Sarah, you know I love you so much.” She said while hugging her sister. “You are my favourite person.”
Sarah squeezed Y/N once more, then pulled back with a small, determined nod. “I’ll fix it,” she said again, more to herself than anyone else. “I promise.”
Y/N smiled, tired but sincere. “I know you will.”
Sarah lingered for half a second after the hug, like she wanted to say more, then seemed to think better of it. She glanced past Y/N’s shoulder, caught sight of someone approaching, and her expression shifted—knowing, deliberate.
Y/N frowned. “Sarah—” But her sister was already walking away, giving her space without asking permission for it. Y/N watched her go, irritation and gratitude tangling in her chest.
Then a shadow fell across the dirt path. “Hey.” JJ’s voice came from behind her—rougher than usual, like he’d run to catch up and didn’t want to admit it. Y/N turned.
He held her wallet out between two fingers. The leather was scuffed at the edges, familiar in a way that made her stomach sink.
“You dropped this back there.”
Her heart skipped, sharp and stupid. “Oh.” She took it, their fingers brushing. The contact was brief, accidental, but it lingered anyway, and of course JJ let go first. “Thanks. I didn’t even notice.”
They stood there for a moment, neither quite sure how to start. The air was thick with late-afternoon heat and things left unsaid. He shifted his weight, hands slipping into his pockets. “So,” JJ said finally, nodding back toward the Chateau. “That was… a mess.”
“Yeah,” Y/N agreed. “That’s kind of the theme lately.”
She expected sarcasm from him. A joke. Something sharp to deflect. Instead, he frowned, eyes fixed on the ground like he was choosing his words carefully—something she hadn’t pegged him as capable of.
“I don’t hate you,” he said finally. “In case that wasn’t clear.”
Her chest tightened unexpectedly. “I didn’t think you did.”
“Yeah,” he replied. “Well. I didn’t make it obvious. I run my mouth when I don’t know what to do with a situation.”
She let out a soft breath. “And, that’s one way of handling things.”
“Yeah,” he said. “It’s not a good one.” ”
She studied his face—sunburned nose, restless jaw, eyes that looked tired in a way sleep wouldn’t fix. For the first time, she wondered how often people mistook his sharpness for confidence, his recklessness for ease.
“You don’t have to like me,” she said quietly. “I know what I look like to you.”
JJ glanced up at that. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“A Cameron,” she said. “A shortcut. An assumption.”
He opened his mouth to argue, then stopped. Closed it again. “I don’t think you’re… fake,” he said, like the word tasted wrong. “I just don’t trust things that come with safety nets.”
The honesty in it caught her off guard. “You think I have one?”
He shrugged. “Don’t you?”
The truth pressed up against her ribs, aching to be said. She thought of her house, her father. The expectations waiting for her like a locked door she’d never been given the key to. “Not the kind you think,” she said.
That made him look at her again—really look this time. Like he was recalculating. Like maybe the version of her he’d built in his head didn’t quite line up with the one standing next to him.
They walked a few steps in silence, side by side now. JJ kicked at a rock, sending it skittering off the road. “Midsummer,” he said suddenly. “I was outta line.”
He stopped too, turning toward her, shoulders tense like he expected her to throw that moment back in his face. She could’ve. God knows she’d replayed it enough times in her head. The way his words had stung more than they should have. The way she’d pretended they hadn’t mattered.
“Yeah,” she said simply. “You were.”
He nodded once, accepting it. “Doesn’t mean much now, I guess.”
“It does. Just… later than you think.” she added quietly. “You didn’t just embarrass me.”
His jaw tightened. He nodded once. “I know.”
“You made me feel stupid for thinking I could exist somewhere I wasn’t invited.”
He swallowed. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
“I know,” she said. And she meant it. “But you did.”
The honesty didn’t explode between them the way arguments usually did. It just settled. JJ didn’t deflect. Didn’t joke. He took it, like pain he’d decided not to dodge for once.
“I grew up thinking people like you didn’t notice people like me,” He let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Guess we’re both bad at seeing past the surface.”
That seemed to ease something in him. Not fully, but enough. Suddenly, Y/N mumbled as if she had remembered something important. Her hand slipped into her pocket without her thinking about it. She felt the familiar plastic bottle and hesitated, then pulled it out.
JJ’s eyes dropped to it immediately. “What’s that?”
She held it out. “Painkillers. Strong ones.”
He frowned. “Why are you giving me those?”
“Isn't it obvious? I'm a drug dealer Maybank."
"I don't think drug dealers dress and doll themselves up like that. Believe me, I know enough people to know."
“You’ve been favoring your side since the Chateau,” she said. “You were limping at Midsummer too, remember?”
For a moment, he didn’t take it. Just stared at the bottle like it didn’t belong in his hands—or his life. Then he reached out and wrapped his fingers around it. But he is still staring at the bottle like it might bite him. “And what,” he asked carefully, “do I owe you for this?”
She frowned, genuinely confused. “Nothing.”
JJ let out a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah. That’s not how it works.”
“I took them for you,” she replied lightly. “They help. Take one if it gets bad, but don’t be stupid with them.”
The sentence landed wrong in his chest—too deliberate, too personal. He looked up at her sharply, like he was checking whether she’d misspoken. She hadn’t. Her face was calm, almost casual, but her eyes gave her away. She’d thought about this, more than once.
“You… took them for me?” he asked quietly, like repeating it might make it less real.
She nodded. No joke this time. No deflection.
“Yeah. I told you, I noticed you were limping at Midsummer.” She hesitated, then added, almost apologetically, “I figured you wouldn’t go to a doctor. Or anyone.”
That part hit harder than she intended. JJ’s jaw tightened. He looked away toward the trees, the water beyond them glinting in the late light. People passed him all the time without seeing anything worth worrying about. Pain was just… background noise to most of them.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he said.
She nodded, eyes steady but warm. “You were hurting. I could tell.”
That did it. He looked at her again, really looked this time, like he was trying to memorize her face in case the world took it away too quickly. The wind lifted a strand of her hair, and she tucked it behind her ear absentmindedly, unaware of how gentle she looked in that moment. A gentle smile spread across her beautifully shaped lips. At that moment, JJ could have helped her completely wipe away her smudged lipstick.
JJ swallowed. He looked down at the bottle, then at his own hand holding it, like he didn’t recognize either of them. No one ever prepared for him. No one ever thought past the immediate chaos. He was an afterthought at best, collateral at worst.
“I wanted to.” That was even worse. Wanting meant intention. It meant she’d gone out of her way, stood in a pharmacy aisle, made a choice with him in mind. JJ felt something tight twist in his chest, something dangerously close to grief.
“I’m not exactly… worth the trouble,” he muttered.
She frowned instantly. “Don’t say that.”
The air felt thick between them. JJ nodded once, more to himself than to her. “Are you sure these are okay?” he asked. “I mean—strong stuff like this.”
She nodded. “They’ll help. Just don’t take more than you should. And don’t mix them with anything stupid.” A pause. “I mean it, JJ.”
He huffed a soft laugh. “You sound like my conscience.”
“God help you, then.” That earned a real smile—quick, bright, gone almost as soon as it appeared, like he hadn’t meant to let it show.
“I’ll take one if it gets bad,” he promised. “I won’t be stupid.”
She smiled, relieved in a quiet way. “Good.”
He slipped the bottle into his pocket, more carefully than he’d ever handled anything that wasn’t stolen or broken. “Thank you,” he said, and this time there was no sarcasm in it at all. “For… caring, you know.” This earned a genuine smile from Y/N.
They walked a few more steps in silence before the road split, Sarah waiting near the car ahead. JJ slowed, already half-turned like he was preparing to leave things there—unfinished, but quieter than before.
He stopped for looked back at her. She hesitated for someone who usually chose her words carefully, this one felt heavier than it should have. Maybe because it wasn’t about strategy or survival or playing a role—it was about him.
Y/N clasped her hands together. She couldn't help but feel like an 8-year-old again, asking her father for permission to go out into the garden.
“Would it bother you,” she asked, voice even but softer underneath, “if Sarah and I stayed in this? The gold. All of it.”
His expression shifted, something subtle tightening around his eyes. Not anger. Not jealousy. Something more complicated.
“Why do you care if it bothers me?” he asked.
She met his gaze. Didn’t dodge it this time. “Because you’re part of this. And because I don’t want to be another thing people take from you without asking.”
That caught him off guard. He looked away briefly, jaw working, then back at her. “I don’t own it,” he said. “The hunt. The gold. None of it.”
“I know,” she replied. “But feelings don’t exactly follow rules like that.”
JJ leaned back against the fence, arms crossed. For a moment, he looked younger. Less like the guy who always had to be ready for the worst. “Does it bother me?” he repeated. “Yeah. A little.”
Her chest tightened, but she didn’t interrupt.
“Not because you don’t deserve to be in it,” he continued. “But because people with power have a way of walking out fine when everything blows up. And people like us…”
Y/N absorbed that, nodded slowly. “That’s fair.”
“But,” he added, pushing off the fence, “You already crossed the line back at the map. And again today. You’re not pretending this is a game.”
She exhaled, relieved in a way she hadn’t expected to feel. “So?” she asked.
“So,” he said, meeting her eyes again, “It doesn’t bother me if you’re in. It’d bother me if you acted like you weren’t.”
Her lips curved into a small, genuine smile. “I can promise you that much.”
He nodded once, satisfied. “Good.”
Relief loosened something in her chest she hadn’t realized she was holding tight “Thank you,” she said. Not lightly. Not casually.
He shrugged, trying—and failing—to make it seem like it didn’t matter. “Just don’t prove me wrong, Cameron.”
Y/N smiled, small but certain. “Same to you, Maybank.”
They stood there another second, the air thick with things neither of them named. Then JJ stepped back, turning toward the road. “See you around,” he said.
“Don’t worry, you will. ” She smiled faintly. “So we’re okay?”
JJ cracked a crooked grin. “Yeah, Sugar. We’re okay.”
She rolled her eyes at the nickname, but didn’t correct him this time. “Take care of yourself,” she said.
He tapped his pocket where the bottle was. “You already did.”
For a second, it felt like there was more to say—something important, something fragile—but JJ just gave her a two-finger salute and turned away. As he walked off, Y/N watched him go, realizing with a quiet, unsettling certainty that this wasn’t just about gold anymore, and JJ knew it too. Whatever this was between them, it wasn’t easy.
I haven't been able to write for a while because of my finals, but I'm available now.
English is not my first language! So please do not hesitate to politely point out if I make a mistake. I won't be reporting any physical characteristics for Y/N in the story, it's just as it should be. I'm writing this story just to unwind, it's nothing serious. Please keep that in mind and enjoy it together! Thank you for reading!
