DISCONTINUED / NO LONGER WRITING
❛ and its new, the shape of your
body, its blue the feelin' i got and
it's ooh, whoa-oh. it's a cruel summer.
and it's cool, that's what i tell 'em. no
rules in breakable heaven, but ooh,
whoa-oh. it's a cruel summer...
JJ AND THE POGUES went out looking for John B later on in the night. Stella opted out, explaining that she wanted to stay home. She needed to, incase John B showed back up. In reality, she just wanted to be alone. Alone with her feelings and alone with her grief.
She laid in her bed, wrapped up in her blanket as she looked through tears to the picture frame in her hands. It was a picture of her and her father when she was young. She was probably six or seven and he was teaching her how to fish. She never really got the hang of it. John B was always the fisher between the two of them.
It felt like a knife to the chest, arguing with her brother and then finding out her father was dead the next day. It all felt like too much. Too much, too soon.
What hurt the most was the fact that she never got to say goodbye. He left the world thinking that she and John B hated him. After all, that was the last thing they said to him.
"You are the worst father!" they screamed at him. And what? All over a van?
Stella hated herself more now than she did ever in her life.
She heard the front door squeak open first, causing her breath to hitch. She sat up and wiped her tears with the sleeve of her brother's sweatshirt. Then, she heard his voice. "Pope? Kie? Hello?"
She set the picture frame back on her bedside table and swung her legs out of the bed. They touched the cold wood floors and sent a chill through her body. She bit her lip and walked toward the door, opening it slowly.
She walked the length of the hallway to see John B leaning on the doorframe of his bedroom. His body shook with sobs.
"John B..." Stella mumbles softly.
John B slowly turns around. The two sibling look at each other with tears streaming down their faces and Stella races forward, throwing her arms around John B.
He holds onto her like his life depended on it, while she did the same. Stella cried into his shoulder as he did hers. Both their shirts were damp by the time they were done.
John B didn't say anything to Stella when he pulled away, as she did neither. She still hadn't been sure where they stood, and how pissed at her he still was.
He gave her a look before turning away and walking into his room. She leaned on the door frame and watched him sit on his bed, looking at a picture of their father for a few moments before he stands up.
He walks past Stella, mumbling a small, "Come on."
John B led them out to the dock and Stella sat beside him while he lit a small flotation device he had created on fire with a blow-torch. He put their father's picture on it.
