golden wings melt like blue slushies // JJ Maybank

-Are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods?-

JJ peered into the dark.

He was pretty sure he was on the right dock, but it was very dark, and he might've taken a few wrong turns.

So far all he could see was a tinny and a pile of yabby nets piled at his feet, and that was only because of the streetlight a few meters back. Nevertheless, he continued stumbling down the rotting wood, the drinks in his hands freezing his fingertips while the rest of his body sweltered in the summer heat.

"Where the-"

Violet, blue, green, red, to keep me at arms-length don't work

JJ grinned and swung around, backpedalling a few boats down and then recognising the blue foam duct taped to the side of the fishing boat turned home after one too many cracks in the side during bad weather. He hopped over onto the deck and crept around the starboard side. Then he realised that was probably a bad idea, so he stomped a bit louder as to not give Iggy the fright of her life. That was probably even creepier. He cursed.

When he saw her, he figured there wasn't a lot he could do to make her feel worse. Which was both a comforting thought and also made him want to get hit by a bus.

You try to push me out, but I just find my way back in

She was laying on her stomach, phone bright in her hand as her eyes stayed fixed to it, smudged mascara and red eyes lit up in tech blue. Captain snorted through the smoke that wafted over him as he thumped his tail pathetically next to her. His head was on his paws.

Iggy didn't seem to notice; she just took another breath of the cigarette and licked her lips.

JJ spent a moment trying to figure out if she was ignoring him, or was so lost in the nicotine and quiet music that she hadn't realised he was there. He chewed his lip. "...uh, Ig's?"

Her phone clattered to the deck. It was only protected because of the military grade green case she'd had to buy. Captain liked dropping it into buckets of bait. JJ stepped back, fearing for his life when Iggy glared at him, the cigarette between two fingers. She looked a little bit deranged.

"Don't call me that," she hissed, and JJ noticed that the whites of her eyes were as pink as the blotches around them.

He squinted at her. "Are you high?"

"Don't call me that," Iggy muttered again, and pressed the cigarette to her lips again like it was the only thing keeping her from smashing her phone over his head or slitting his throat with a fishing knife. It probably was. She turned back to her phone and then turned up the music.

Violet, blue, green, red to keep me out I win

"I brought slushies?"

"Don't call me that," Iggy said, but he figured she wasn't actually listening to what he was saying. He tiptoed over and at Captains disapproving glare, slid the icy red drink over with his shoe instead of sitting down. He still stuck his tongue out at the golden retriever, but figured the dog was right.

JJ leant against the side of the boat and picked at the peeling paint job with his shaking hands. He knew he had to fix this, it wasn't an option, he just didn't know how. He wished he could just telepathically send all of his emotions into Iggy's brain so that she would understand how much he wanted to take back everything and just be perfect instead of the dumbass who couldn't think straight that he was. She'd figure out how much he loved her then too, but pity was better then hatred. In everyone else who ever existed cases it was hatred. but when Iggy hated him, he contemplated staging his own murder to make her feel better.