Aurora Lili Routledge, or as everyone calls her; Rory, is the twin sister of John B Routledge. With the summer approaching, Rory and John B have made a perfect plan along with their friends; JJ, Pope, and Kie to have a good time, all the time.
With...
We were shut like a jacket. So do your zip... We would roll down the rapids.. To find a wave that fits. Can you feel where the wind is? Can you feel it through.. All of the windows.. Inside this room?
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Third Person Perspective~
JJ'S nights had transformed into a delicate dance between supporting Rory and numbing the pain that gnawed at his own heart. The Chateau became their refuge, a dimly lit haven where the weight of reality could be momentarily set aside. The air hung heavy with the scent of smoke and the faint echoes of laughter that didn't quite reach their eyes.
As they stepped into the darkened room--JJ having come back from his job at the Island Inn as a waiter and Rory...well from her rebellious adventures from down the streets-- the dim glow of yellow lights flickering overhead, JJ couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness.
Rory hadn't spoke a word since she met JJ halfway on the way to home, except for the chaste she planted onto his lips. She entered inside the Chat and quickly changed her dripping wet clothes. JJ--though confused as hell, at her behaviour, knew not to push the answers out of her--as he led Rory to their couch after she was done changing her clothes, the worn leather cushion providing a comfort that words couldn't express. The atmosphere was a mix of tension and longing, a silent acknowledgment of the wounds that lingered just beneath the surface.
The clink of glasses echoed as they poured out their usual drink – a potent mix of alcohol that could temporarily drown out the ache. JJ watched Rory carefully, her eyes glazed over with a mixture of grief and something darker. He could sense the rebellion, the unspoken cries for release etched across her face.
They clinked their glasses together, the liquid amber swirling within. The alcohol burned on the way down, a harsh reminder of the pain they sought to escape. The silence between them spoke volumes, words unnecessary in the face of shared tragedy.
JJ observed Rory, her fingers tracing the rim of the glass. Her mind seemed to be a million miles away from present, lost in the labyrinth of memories and regrets. The flickering lights in the living room cast shadows across her face, revealing the weariness etched in her eyes. As they downed their drinks, the warmth of the alcohol mingled with the chill of their haunted souls.
Their fingers intertwined rested between them on the couch, offering a fleeting connection in the abyss of despair. JJ's gaze never wavered from Rory's face, the lines of worry etched on his forehead. He wanted to be her anchor, the steady force that could pull her back from the edge. The pain of losing John B lingered, but the desire to save Rory consumed him.
The night wore on, the music pulsating through the walls, a distant beat to the rhythm of their unravelling lives. JJ could feel the walls closing in, the weight of grief pressing down on them. Yet, in the haze of smoke and dim lights, he found solace in the closeness he shared with Rory.
