𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫, 𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫 | 𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤

48. twigs between the toes.

F O R T Y - E I G H T
twigs between the toes.

CONTENT WARNING: Mentions and thoughts of suicide and self-harm. It's nothing graphic, but as always, if this is something that is going to negatively affect your mental health, do not read this chapter. It's just sad drivel.
I'll catch you next time. Look after yourself <3

Sitting in my high-up hiding place, I can't help but wonder what it'd feel like to jump to the shallow water below.

If, for a second, it'd feel like flying.

Then I'd hit the shallow water and go splat against the rocks. If the impact doesn't kill me, drowning will, and if drowning doesn't, hopefully, a shark will take me out. There are worse ways to go.

I spend most of my time up here, pretending JJ doesn't hover just in the treeline, watching me like a crazed stalker.

He doesn't seem to understand that I want to have space, room to breathe.

In the desperate attempt to feel something, I pick at the wounds slowly healing on my knees. The walk up and down to my place could use a little paving, or at least trimming of some of the tree roots; I've eaten shit too many times. At this rate, I'll die of blood poisoning from my grubby hands picking at fresh scabs before anything else.

Perhaps not before the temptation to test my flying theory. Are there even any sharks near me? That could be a problem.

"I think sitting up here is more dangerous than jumping off that cliff." So he did it. Probably did a backflip just to prove he could. I was there when Kie dared him, the way JJ looked at me as if asking for permission pissed me off. I just walked off, hiked all the way up here and hoped he wouldn't do that.

Kie tried to stop me; she told me that he'd be fine. "Frankie, it's JJ. He'd survive anything. A cliff jump won't kill him." A cliff jump won't kill him. Well, I've seen that cliff, and if he doesn't jump far enough, he won't be JJ, he'll be J...J. Torn apart by the jutting rocks.

Because, despite what everyone likes to think, JJ is a person. Vulnerable to snapping in half, just like anyone else.

My... whatever JJ is now... sits beside me. He smells like charred wood and salty water.

I hiss as the scab tears a little too far, and instead of raw skin, a drop of blood rolls down my knee. The sharp pain floods my system like a drug, it makes my hands shake. It's nice, or at least preferable to the bone-deep ache of sorrow.

JJ grabs my wrist, pulling my hand from my knee. "You need to leave your knees alone. We don't have penicillin."

"I'm allergic, you should probably know that." It's meant to hurt his feelings. I hate that it works. It's exactly what I wanted to happen, but watching him absorb the blow and fold in on himself a little makes me want to just jump. "Sorry," I apologise after a beat of charged silence. "I was trying to be mean."

His hands drag down his face, it seems like even my presence exhausts him. I can't imagine finally getting the life you never thought you'd get, not one full of riches, but one that's devoid of all the things that have historically weighed down on you, and instead of being able to enjoy it, having to endure someone who is just fucking miserable.

"It's fine," he, of course, doesn't stick up for himself. JJ has become a dog, rolling over at the first sign of trouble. Bending to whatever whim I've decided to be a stickler to. "Come down to the shore with me, I'll teach you how to fish."

The offer falls flat. "JJ, I refuse to eat what you catch. What makes you think I'd want to be a part of catching it?" I snip.

"You don't have to, it was just an offer," he backtracks. "Let me–"