Jiara Oneshots

False Alarm

He's fighting, punch after punch into the boy's face. In JJ's defense, he deserved it. It started simple, a party that most of the Pogues had been invited to. He brought Kiara as his plus one, and she didn't decline his offer.

They arrived with John B, Pope, Sarah, and Cleo. Each took their respective route, and JJ was no different. He went to get he and Kiara a drink, and the trouble ironically started at the punch table.

"Are you guys an item?" He was a plump, expensive looking boy. "That Kiara girl. She's fine, dude."

"No shit." JJ shrugged, chuckling. "She's my girl."

"Not for long." He guy had laughed. The blonde boy didn't laugh at that.

"Hilarious." Came his sarcastic response.

Then he was leaving, rolling his eyes. As soon as she saw him heading back, she was grabbing the drinks to set on a table. He nearly went back to get a sip of his own, but she grabbed his hands next.

It was a childish, seventh grade jumping around kind of dancing. It was fun, though, and JJ kept a genuine smile for a long time. His eyes did catch the boy from earlier a couple times, but he figured there was no need to be upset anymore.

At least until Kiara says she was going to the bathroom. He nodded, feeling considerably saddened when she left. He would've just waited until she got back, but the boy opened his mouth again, and he couldn't exactly ignore him.

"She gave me her number." He was taunting JJ, who chuckled knowingly. "I'm serious."

"She wouldn't do that."

"Except she did."

The blonde boy glared at him and then made a face. "Prove it."

JJ wasn't proud of it, but he was staring intently at the evidence on his phone. His blood boiled at the numbers he'd memorized.

"I told you, man. I got that W rizz."

The Maybank took a look at him again, letting the music around them fade into his subconscious. And then his fist made contact. Once, twice, thrice, and then JJ stopped counting.

His head was stuck in a bubble, popped only by Kiara's worried yells. "JJ, Jesus, STOP!"

Then he shoved the boy to the floor, straightening back up to look at her. "You gave this asshole your number?" He said between breaths.

"No? I don't even know who he is!!"

He gave Kiara a look that suggested he didn't believe her. "Kiara, don't lie to me."

The look on his face was absolute betrayal. She looked at the boy on the floor again, pausing to squint at the open phone screen beside him. That's when Topper came into view, mouth agape.

"Shiiit!" He gasped. "When he asked me to put him on, I didn't think it would end like this."

Both Pogues glared at him. And that's when it clicked for Kiara.

"You have this asshole my number?!" She yelled, incredulous.

The boy giggled and JJ punched him again. This time, John B pulled him away with a unsatisfied expression. While Kiara explained the situation to the unsuspecting Routledge, JJ broke free and set off toward the Twinkie.

It didn't take long for Kiara to run after him like she always did. It was a short walk, but it separated them from the crowd and chaos. Two knocks on the window let her in the back with him.

It was relatively quiet. JJ had taken her hand to let her inside the van, but he hadn't let go when they were situated. He wanted to apologize for the misunderstanding, but it felt like they'd been through this situation too many times. He always overreacted, ended up with blood on his hands. He hated to think that he got his temper from his father.

"JJ, it's okay." Kiara says, when he doesn't follow his usual script. "I'm not mad at you. You didn't know."

He's surprised at the choked feeling in his throat. He feels like a child. But this, too, he remembers talking about. What Kiara had said to do when he felt that crushing weight on his shoulders, or the liquid brimming in his eyes.

She hadn't witnessed any of his emotion yet, worries creasing her forehead at the unexplained silence.

"Can I have a hug, Kie?"

He still doesn't look up, but the sound of his voice told her everything. "Of course you can."

She pulls him closer by the hand he still hadn't let go. The girl let her thumb rub over his shoulder blades, and the tension leaves his muscles in small increments. He melts beneath her touch.

Then, a small, "Thank you..."

He swallows directly after, as if to ground himself. She waits until he pulls away, and then she smiles at him. He's uncomfortable at first, but his smile follows her shortly after. "God, what?" He grins.

"I'm proud of you."

His smile drops. "Alright... don't do that."

"Don't do what? I'm serious."

The words he wants to say are caged within his mind. He knows better than to refuse her compliments.

"I... Okay."

And it's that small step that makes him realize he might be making progress.