Y/n’s POV
“Party at the boneyard 10pm.” – John B 💕
The text message illuminated my phone screen, John B’s name flashing. A sigh escaped my lips. Parties weren’t always my scene, but when John B, my boyfriend, was the host, I knew an unforgettable night was guaranteed. He had this infectious energy, turning even mundane moments into adventures. Living closest to Pope in our friend group meant we usually walked to these gatherings together. Tonight, however, Pope was already with John B, leaving me to embark on this short journey solo.
“Ok I’ll be there! Love you.” I quickly replied, hitting send. Almost instantly, his response chimed back – a simple “Love you” followed by a heart emoji. This boy truly held my heart captive, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Grabbing my pre-packed bag – a haphazard collection of spare clothes and random essentials, anticipating an overnight stay at John B’s – I headed out the front door.
The sound of shuffling behind me halted my steps. Turning around, I was met with the unwelcome sight of Rafe Cameron. Of all people. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Dealing with Rafe was always a draining ordeal. “What the fuck are you doing? Couldn’t you have just waited on the steps like a normal person?” I questioned, irritation lacing my voice as I descended the porch steps.
“Nah, that’d uh, be too easy,” he smirked, his hand snaking out to grab my arm, roughly pushing me against my car parked in the driveway. “What do you want, Rafe?” I asked, a tremor of fear running through me. The ghost of past bruises lingered in my memory. Rafe and I had been together for two tumultuous years. The first year and a half had been blissfully normal, but then darkness had crept into our relationship. Jealousy and anger became his default settings. It was around that time I later discovered he’d started using coke with Barry. His drug use was a bitter pill, but the physical repercussions I endured were far worse. I became adept at concealing bruises, weaving elaborate lies to my friends, the Pogues, about my clumsiness. Rafe had always resented my Pogue affiliations. I straddled a strange in-between, not quite a Pogue, not a Kook either. I lived on the Cut, yes, but my home was well-maintained, a testament to my mother’s financial success, though she had zero desire to reside in Figure 8. Perhaps her disdain stemmed from the long-standing animosity between my dad and Ward Cameron; whatever the reason, we kept our distance from the Kook world.
“I want you back, Y/n! Come back to me,” he pleaded, a desperate edge to his voice. “We’ll be happy again, I promise I’ll stop the drugs.” His words were a hollow echo of promises past. This pathetic display only intensified my eye-roll. “No, Rafe, it’s not happening. I’m with John B now, you know that. So just leave. I’m not going back to you,” I stated, my voice wavering slightly, betraying my fear. The last thing I needed was another bruise, another lie to concoct for John B and JJ’s ever-watchful eyes. Pogues had no secrets, it was an unspoken rule.
He simply laughed, a chilling, humorless sound, and shook his head. “Sorry, I wasn’t clear. I wasn’t asking.” His jaw clenched, and the air around us thickened with menace. He pulled me away from my car, dragging me towards his imposing truck. I fought back with every ounce of strength I possessed. Kicking his shins, stomping on his feet, even a weak attempt to scratch his face – but my efforts were futile against his brute force. “Rafe, let me go!” I screamed, panic rising in my chest. My parents were away, and no one knew my whereabouts before the party. I was utterly alone and vulnerable. “Rafe, stop, you’re hurting me!” I yelled again as his grip tightened, attempting to shove me into the cab of his truck.
“Hey boy, what are you doing!?” A booming voice shattered the tense silence. Rafe froze, and I craned my neck to see Pope’s dad, Hayward, striding purposefully into view. “Nothing, sir, we’re just leaving,” Rafe stammered, attempting to feign nonchalance.
“Y/n?” Hayward’s voice was laced with concern as he stood a few feet away. I shook my head vehemently, my eyes pleading for help. “Let her go, Rafe!” Hayward commanded, his voice firm. Rafe scoffed, releasing my arms abruptly. He looked as if he was contemplating challenging Pope’s dad. “I’m sorry, old man, were you trying to tell me what to do?” Rafe’s voice grew louder, angrier with each word. “Don’t make me call the police, Rafe Cameron. Get out of the Cut and leave her alone. I’ve got 911 waiting for me to hit call,” Hayward retorted, glancing back at his house where Pope’s mom stood on the porch, phone in hand, screen illuminated, a silent promise of immediate action. Rafe hesitated, then spun around, shooting a venomous glare at me before scrambling into his truck and speeding off.
A sob finally escaped my lips as his taillights disappeared down the road. “Hey, Y/n, come on. Let’s go inside,” Hayward said gently, pulling me into a comforting hug. The party was the furthest thing from my mind now. “Come on, honey,” Pope’s mom soothed, guiding me inside as tears streamed down my face. “I’m gonna call Pope, get his friends to come here,” Hayward said to his wife, his voice heavy with concern. I sank onto the couch, curling into myself, knees drawn to my chest, tears soaking my jeans. A dark bruise was already forming on my arm, throbbing with each pulse of my heart. “Hon,” Pope’s mom said softly, settling beside me and placing a reassuring hand on my knee. “What was Rafe doing at your house?” she asked, her voice gentle.
Sniffles wracked my body as I tried to speak. “He… he…” The words caught in my throat, choked by sobs. She simply wrapped her arms around me, enveloping me in a motherly embrace, allowing me to cry freely. My own parents were often away, consumed by work or travel, so Pope’s parents had become my de facto guardians in their absence. Her hugs were a familiar comfort in times of distress. “Rafe, he and I used to, um… date. He hurt me… badly, and he wanted me back,” I managed to choke out, the fragmented sentence barely conveying the depth of my trauma. I felt her arms tighten around me, a silent reassurance of unwavering support.
“Y/n!” John B’s voice, laced with panic, echoed from outside, followed by the sound of pounding footsteps. John B. “Baby.” He sighed in relief, rushing towards me. I pulled away from Pope’s mom and John B engulfed me in a tight embrace, my sobs intensifying as I buried my face in his chest. “What happened?” JJ asked, his voice sharp with concern as he and Kie stood a few feet away, watching the scene unfold – their best friend weeping in the arms of her boyfriend, John B, the heart of the OBX crew. “Rafe Cameron came to her house. Tried to take her,” Pope’s mom explained sadly, her voice trembling slightly. “What!” JJ exploded, fury radiating off him. “JJ, stop. We’ll deal with him later. Right now, we need to get Y/n back to John B’s,” Kie interjected, her voice calm and practical. “Come on, baby,” John B murmured, pulling back slightly to look into my tear-streaked face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I ruined your guys’ night,” I mumbled, glancing at each of them, guilt gnawing at me. “Don’t you ever apologize for that, alright? You are way more important than any party,” John B said fiercely, cupping my face in his hands before gently kissing my lips, a silent promise of protection and love.
After profusely thanking Pope’s parents, John B led us back to his place, dropping Kie off at her house on the way, while Pope opted to stay with his family for the night. JJ decided to stay with John B and me, a silent sentinel. I lay in John B’s bed, clutching his pillow, the scent of him a small comfort. I’d changed into one of his oversized shirts, waiting for him to join me. “Night, JJ,” I heard him say softly before he entered the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He slid into bed beside me, pulling me close, my back pressed against his bare chest. “I love you,” he whispered, his breath warm against my neck. “I love you too. Thank you,” I murmured back, turning my head to meet his gaze. He leaned in, kissing me softly on the lips, then trailing kisses down my neck, sending shivers through me. A soft “I love you” escaped his lips again, and I smiled, a fragile flicker of happiness amidst the lingering fear. “I’m gonna kill Rafe Cameron,” he mumbled, anger simmering beneath his words. “Don’t worry about him right now, okay? Just focus on the fact that we’re together right now,” I whispered, my eyes locking onto his lips, then back to his reassuring eyes. He leaned in again, kissing me deeply, a kiss that promised safety, love, and a future where shadows of the past wouldn’t define us.
