LIVING in a mansion her whole life, Eden has no clue on how to build a home.

Marble floors, perfect electrical systems, everything polished to the point of sterility—that was what she knew. But building a home? Starting from dirt, splinters, and decades of rot? She had no clue where to even begin.

The only thing Eden knew about homes was that it was the people who made it that, not necessarily the material or look. The Pogues could create a surf shop made out of sticks rocks and she'd smile and happily live beside them in it.

But, of course, they weren't just building a place that was theirs—they were building a place where they could work and make money. It needed to look good, be approachable, and by all means, pass a health hazard evaluation.

Starting up was slightly difficult. With JJ spending the majority of the money on the property, the group didn't have a lot of remaining cash to work with when it came to materials for the shop.

So, working with what they had left, Pope took the lead. Digging into their situation with a practical mind, he started making budgeted lists of all the required materials they would need to make this—hardware, secondhand furniture, salvageable wood, interior design, etc. With the ideas of the group pitched in, he mapped out the surf shop.

A plan was laid out, frugal to the bone. Secondhand materials, discount hardware stores, a lot of manual labor.

Finding wood ended up coming first, an idea from JJ that only got green lit after he not only begged to be let back into the process, but promised to stay on plan and to budget properly.

The Maybank drives them, minus John B. and Sarah who stay to start cleaning the land up, to an old building, deep within The Cut and abandoned. The group walks up to the house, and coming close to it, Eden can already see the mold resting on the slabs—no wonder it was abandoned, it was nothing but rot.

"'Kay, so we're gonna have to do this Pogue-style." Pope repeats for the hundredth time—after what JJ has, he finds it keen to make sure everyone knows and understands the plan. "That means DIY, scavenge, whatever materials we can find."

"Look, we might have paid a little bit over on the dirt, but it's some of the best dirt, okay?" JJ speaks in reassurance, wrapping an arm around his friend. "And we'll make it up in construction. Because these boards right here—" He grabs a crowbar from the bag Pope's holding, and taps on the side of the shack. "—if we plane them, they're gonna be as good as new."

Eden glances at the boards in front of her, lips pursing in slightly disgust. "Are you sure, J?"

"Yeah," Pope's lip curls upward as he slides a hand over the wood. "These boards are rotten as shit, man."

JJ shrugs, casual. "They're free as shit, as well."

"You're gonna be on strike number two if this doesn't work, JJ." The Bexley hesitantly moves closer to the rotten planks. Glancing at Kiara, who shares a similar expression of disgust beside her, she questions, "Do we really have to touch these?"

Kiara sighs. "My question, exactly."

Cleo, used to the grime of life, is quick to put her hands on a board and pull it off the house with ease. Peering inside, she calls, "Look, not all rotten."

"Alright, yeah. Thank you, Cleo." JJ hums as he stands next to Pope, the two boys working together to pull another slab off with their crowbars. Setting it down, he sends a snide look over his shoulder to the Bexley. "Strike number two, my ass."

Eden rolls her eyes. "Okay, sure. Not all of them are rotten."

"No, just admit I'm a genius for this idea, Ed'."

"No, you're not, we're only gonna be able to get like five slabs from this piece of shit."

Pope, still inspecting the planks, admits, "Okay, but... five decent boards is better than zero decent boards. I mean, it's something."

JJ immediately turns to Eden, smug grin blooming like wildfire. "Boom. You hear that? That's Pope—voice of reason, mastermind behind the budgeting plan—saying I'm not wrong. Which means...?"

Eden exhales slowly, eyes flicking from the sad little pile of salvageable planks to JJ's triumphant expression.

"Okay, fine." The Bexley drawls. "You, JJ Maybank, are a genius."

"For...?"

"....for giving us five rotten planks." Eden has to hide the amused smile toying around the corners of her lips.

"Thank you. Appreciate it." JJ rings, pulling off another slab. He then nods the Bexley over. "Now, get your hands dirty, your majesty. Let's go."

Eden did get her hands dirty—it was hard not too, when building from scratch.

Surprisingly, progress came faster than she expected, the Pogues moving through Pope's checklists and working rather quickly—quicker than Eden expected, given they were working off nothing. Then again, the Pogues had always known how to make something out of nothing.

Between Pope's detailed checklists and budgeting plan, John B., Cleo, and JJ's hands-on craftsmanship, and the design instincts of Sarah, Kiara, and Eden, things started coming together. It was a strange blend of chaos and control, but it worked. Every day there was a new task at hand, and each day everyone came together to work until it was finished.

Some days the accomplishments were smaller; Sarah, Pope, and Cleo scoring a cooler from a store owner, who, knowing what the Pogues trying to accomplish, handed it off for free—though, of course, Pope still tipped him; JJ and John B. spending hours sawing wood down with Eden watching in a backwards and tacky sunglasses—assisting when allowed, JJ guiding her, which only ended in laughter and sawdust everywhere; Kiara, Eden, JJ, and Pope spending hours rummaging through junk looking for spare parts and items, walking out with colorful sails, and a giant shark figurine of all things.

There were bigger days, too, such as JJ choosing his promised new boat—The Snapper. She was a rusted thing, with a green and white exterior. Despite it, the Maybank claimed her as 'the one' and purchased it without another thought.

Another bigger development? Eden became a plant mom.

It started innocently enough. Kiara had pitched the garden idea to Pope with the usual eco-warrior charm she could turn on like a switch. She threw words like sustainable and nurturing the earth, and promised him it could both save and make them money. Pope gave in and sent her the go-ahead after three rounds of budgeting and a guilt trip about food waste.

Once given the green light, Kiara wasted no time getting Eden to help plant the first patch of seeds. Eden rolled her eyes originally, but the first batch ended up becoming two batches, and eventually, the Bexley was gardening without complaint.

She hadn't exactly expected to enjoy digging holes in the dirt under the Carolina sun, but it felt good. Peaceful. Almost healing.

Of course, it didn't stay innocent, though.

"Okay, hear me out," Kie said one afternoon, wiping sweat from her brow as they knelt in the soil together. It was more often than not that when everyone else was working, they were here. "What if, along with all of this, we grow a little something extra."

Eden squinted at her, adjusting the bandanna over her forehead. Dirt clung to the sweat on her temples. "Extra as in what? You know Pope has us on a crazy budget with these seeds."

Kie glanced around casually. "Weed."

Eden hesitated. She wasn't against it—God knows she and JJ had smoked enough together to justify a personal supply—but growing it? That sounded more complicated. Certainly risky. Illegal.

But, turns out, growing weed wasn't much harder than any of the other plants Kiara had selected.

Yes, they did it. And not only did they manage to keep it discreet, but they produced good weed, too—surprisingly good. Eden hadn't planned on becoming a weed farmer, but it wasn't the weirdest turn her life had taken lately. Not by a long shot.

Besides, there was something oddly satisfying about it—tending to it, watching it grow, knowing exactly what they'd made with their own hands—and when JJ lit up that first joint from their own stash and dramatically declared it 'the shit', Eden had to admit that maybe Kie had been onto something after all.

The weed was also what gave them a deck.

JJ had gone to one of his dad's old friends, Buffy, to help them set up deck pilings—he had the proper tools and equipment, and would certainly be cheaper than hiring a real guy. At first, the man had said no, but after the Maybank went to the Twinkie and returned with a jar of 'home batch, lifetime supply ' of weed from the girls, the Pogues found Buffy at the property the next day.

"Hey! Put it over there!"

From the house, the Pogues stand and watch as Cleo ran back and forth, waving her hands in the air to direct Buffy—who seems to be in a different world entirely, as he maneuvers the crane he's in, wooden beam in it's grasp shaking. Ten beams are already situated in the water, all of which angled and tilted to the side, staggering at different heights. It's messy, and certainly not what JJ promised.

"Let it go! Let it—hey! Yo!"

"I'm by no means an expert, but...." Kiara trialed off, squinting.

John B. purses his lips. "That shit don't look right."

"....that shit does not look right."

Having heard about the trade that was made to get Buffy here, Eden amusedly looks at JJ. "How much weed has he smoked, exactly?"

Sarah doesn't seem as amused as the Bexley. "You didn't think to maybe give it to him after?"

"Maybe like a reward system?" John B. shrugs.

"Bro, hey—he was gonna be baking either way, alright?" JJ zips up a pair of work overalls, glancing over his shoulder to see the scene. "You can't stop Curry from shootin'."

"Please go stop him before he kills Cleo with that wood." Eden deadpans, watching as Cleo continued to wave her hands in the air at Buffy, desperately so.

"Yo, Buff!" JJ calls, like the man can hear him through the wind and weed haze. "Get it together, bro!"

"Hey! This man's an idiot!" Cleo yells against the wind to her friends, before turning back to the crane. "Hey! Hey, man! Hey! Let it go, let it—"

Eden cringes as the wooden beam falls out of the crane, and into the marsh awkwardly.

There's a gruff yell from the crane. "Help!"

JJ starts sprinting like a maniac towards the scene. "Buff! Come on! Get it together! Get out!"

Eden slowly turned to Kiara. "That's our weed making him that high."

Kiara tries to hide her smile, lowly offering her hand for a high five. The Bexley slaps her hand against the Carrera's, not even bothering to hide the smirk on her lips.

The piling did ultimately get set up—JJ took the rest of the stash away, promising Buffy he'd get it back after the job—leaving the Pogues to finish the rest of the deck up themselves.

Weeks passed in a haze of sunburnt shoulders and sweat-slicked backs, spent nailing and drilling planks to Buffy's piling under the relentless sun. Normally, they'd split up and work on different parts of the property, but the deck was something they all took on together, day in and day out. It came together slow but steady—step by step, nail by nail.

After weeks of work, the deck was completed up to midland—which Eden liked. She preferred her feet touching the ground rather than doing parkour and testing planks over the marsh.

"I need some more nails." Kiara insists, balancing on an already-set plank.

Sarah hums. "Yeah, we do."

John B. glances at the Maybank. "Is this how the line is supposed to go?"

"Sweet—close enough." JJ shrugs, unbothered. He stood in the grass, working a pipe through the open slots of the deck. "You got the other end?"

Sarah jumps on a board to test its sturdiness. The Routledge nods, holding the rest of the pipe. "Yeah. Yeah, I got the back."

For the last month, the sound of hammering and drilling has been the soundtrack to Eden's life. She's grown accustomed to splinters and random bruises, to aching muscles from all the handy-work, to dirt under nails. She's never felt more down to earth, more domestic, than now—more Pogue, really. Despite all the running and adventure, this was Pogue life she'd been craving for years.

"Working on a cramp, working on a cramp," JJ says, twisting awkwardly under the decking, trying to get the pipe through.

John B. mutters. "Super story."

"We're cramping."

"I don't want to hear shit about cramps." Eden snapped flatly from where she was sitting on a half finished plank, back pressed against one of the railings. She'd been sitting out most of the day, clearly miserable and moody—her time of the month had decided to show up, and cramps had kept her doubled over half the morning, and now just left her nauseous and aching.

John B. rolled his eyes, not even looking up from where he was hammering a nail. "We get it, you're on your period."

Sarah reprimands her boyfriend with a light slap over the head. Kiara lets out a short laugh, continuing to nail. "Could be worse, Ed'. Remember when you got it on Poguelandia?"

"Oh my God," Sarah winced, voice soft with faux sympathy. "That was a dark week."

"She bit me." John B. added.

"I grazed you." Eden muttered.

"On the shoulder." The Routledge proceeds, "And you only let Pope and Sarah speak to you. You know how hurtful that was?" His face scrunches in a fake dramatic.

"I was free bleeding on an island."

Sarah just leaned over and gently cooed, "He's being a dick. You're doing amazing, sweetie."

Eden groaned louder and dropped her head back against the railing.

JJ popped up from under the deck, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He squinted at her, smirking. "You wanna give it a try, your majesty?"

Eden raised an eyebrow. "What kind of try?"

"Nothing hard," He said, beckoning her over. "Just twist a little thingy so you can feel productive. Come here."

The Bexley stands up, carefully maneuvering to the opposite side of the deck. From there, she slid out from the deck frame, landing on the ground with a soft thump. JJ takes her hand and wraps it around the red pipe.

"Twist that on," He murmurs. Eden does as he asks. JJ then hands her a tool and places his hand over hers to help her use it, guiding her through the motion. "Now, you gotta squeeze this."

The Bexley does as he asks again, a weak smile coming up on her face. She could tell he was trying to make her feel better, and, well, it was working.

"Beautiful handiwork, Ed'." JJ muses, the Bexley stepping to the side to let the Maybank continue. He turns towards the Routledge atop the dock, "Alright, you got the other end?"

From where he sat watching the scene, Pope speaks up. "No—no, dude. Do that again."

JJ does a double take. "....Why?"

"Because it's not right, okay?" Pope eyes the handiwork again, before setting down his hammer and moving in to fix. "It has to be—"

Eden frowned, her lower lip jutting out dramatically. "I thought I did good."

"You did do good." JJ says. "Pope, it's fine."

Pope doesn't seem to agree. "It's not—it can't just be fine."

"It's fine—Pope, it's fine."

The Heyward comes in front of the Maybank to fix the pipe. "It's a dock. This isn't just like a school project, man. This is our dock, right? Our dream."

"Yeah, it is..." JJ leans against the wooden beam above, mumbling under his breath about the Heyward's actions.

"So, it should be perfect."

The Pogues watch the familiar bickering between the boys with fond smiles. Despite everything that had happened to them, certain things still stayed the same. Eden was thankful for that.

"You know what the key is here?" JJ glances at his friends as Pope continues to redo the Maybank's work. "You just gotta make it a little janky and then he does it for you." He massages the Heyward's shoulders. "I love you, Pope."

Pope brushes off the affection. "I'm sorry, but I want my dock to be safe."

"I feel safe." John B. admits, and Eden can't help the light smile that toys on her lips at the familiar line. "I feel—I feel so safe."

"It's not as funny when you say it." Eden looks at her brother, still smiling. "Like, you're just quoting yourself."

Once the deck was completed, the Pogues moved on to the real structures of Poguelandia 2.0.

The plan had always been ambitious—two functional businesses on the same property. The first was JJ's charter shack, small but practical, meant to sit right on the end of the new deck. The second was the surf shop, a bigger, more permanent structure nestled in the yard. They decided early on to take them one at a time; trying to split focus would only end in disaster.

Framing JJ's charter shack came first. None of them were professionals, and it showed in the amount of trial-and-error that went into every cut, every nail, every piece of wood they hauled down the deck. Pope's blueprints became their bible. He'd crouch over them with a pencil behind his ear while JJ and John B. argued over measurements, the girls waiting impatiently for instruction.

Framing was difficult. At first, it looked like nothing more than an awkward collection of vertical beams sticking out of the dock. But slowly, day after day, they added crossbeams, reinforced the corners, and squared it all up until, one afternoon, the small wooden outline actually stood on its own against the marsh. Seeing it for the first time—stable, upright—felt like a win. They all stepped back, sweaty, exhausted, but buzzing. JJ, specifically.

Once the charter shack's skeleton was finished, they shifted their focus to the bigger project: the surf shop. This one was different. It wasn't a tiny shack at the water's edge; it was their main shop, the centerpiece of the property, and they wanted it to feel like more than a thrown-together hut.

The process was the same in theory—measure, cut, frame, secure—but everything was larger. Heavier boards. Taller walls. A bigger roof span. They dug post holes in the yard, set beams in concrete, then spent hours hauling lumber and raising walls that needed all seven of them to keep steady until they could be braced.

There were long days under an unrelenting sun, laughter breaking up the tension when something inevitably went wrong—which happened more than enough times. But, after each mistake, they'd curse, then laugh, then fix it and keep going.

Piece by piece, plank by plank, the structure grew. First a floor. Then the framing for walls. Then rafters that turned into a roof line. Each step made it feel more like a real building and less like a wild idea they'd scribbled in a notebook months ago.

The roofing and painting was done next. Once more, they started with the small structure of the two. Whilst Sarah, Kiara, and Cleo went to paint signs and roofing for the shop, Eden ended up with the boys at the charter. Specifically Eden ended up on the roof with JJ, back against the beating sun as John B. and Pope hoisted up rusted metal panels—not only were the worn panels cheaper, but they provided a more homey aesthetic to the charter. Together the Bexley and Maybank slid the panels into place and drilled them down.

The same work was done on the surf shop, and once that was done, they moved to the final step of it all—painting and decor.

They had a business now, technically two. But, that hadn't been the point. This needed to feel like theirs—stamped with their fingerprints, their inside jokes, their chaos and charm. And so, they poured themselves into every detail, no shame, no second guessing. The little things mattered to the Pogues.

Each Pogue pitched in with what they wanted—no filter. Eden hand-painted all the lettering on the signs, her steady hand and paint-flecked fingers turning scrap wood and surf cards into storefront staples. One board, painted onto a little surf-board, read 'Kildare Island Surfboard Co.' and hung proudly above the main surf shack. A larger, bolder one for the charter shack read 'JJ Maybank Deep Sea Charters: Live Bait, Tackle, Provisions' with JJ's doodled designs— a sharks and a lightning bolt—added exactly where he wanted them. An arrow pointed off toward the mainland, marking the shack as an 'extension' of the surf shop.

She also crafted menu-style boards listing everything they had to offer—all the bait, alcohol, gas, gear, supplies, the menu for the little kitchen Cleo had pitched in to create— as the rest of the group spent a whole day arranging their shop. They bought out supplies they planned to sell, set up the shelves and front counters, then added color in the form of stickers, pins, and doodles.

Eden brought old photos from her bedroom—planned and candid photos of her and her friends, from years back—and hung them around the surf shack to make the space feel lived-in, just as they wanted it to feel. They sat next to old license plates from boats and flea markets nailed to the ceiling beams, hanging over the vending machine and cooler JJ managed to wire into their makeshift electrical system.

Kiara strung up her Hobie sails on the second floor, catching the light and giving the space a wind-tossed, summery feel. She also painted custom boards—one for display, then another, and another—and when she pitched the idea of offering personalized board art for extra cash, the group immediately agreed. It was a Pogue-brained side hustle waiting to happen.

JJ, not to be outdone, remade the Poguelandia flag with the same chicken in a coconut bra, smoking a J with a bracelet around his ankle with Crocs design from the original. He hung it proudly outside the surf shack where it flapped in the breeze with pride.

Pope rigged up a pulley system with extra rope and a bucket they could use to haul things between each other from the first to second floor. The latter—originally just a rough loft space—was ultimately marked as Employees Only and became an extra sanctuary to the Pogues. They set it up with hammocks, a ping pong table, as well as a Foosball one, the wheel of a ship and a telescope, and an extra cooler stacked with drinks.

The final centerpiece was Bruce—the big, broken-down shark from the salvage yard. JJ insisted on hanging him right in front of the shop, slightly tilted and lopsided, just above the front door.

By the time they stepped back and looked at it all—everything they had built, decorated, argued over, and laughed through; months of their life—it was no longer just a project, or even just a surf shop and a charter shack. It was Poguelandia 2.0.

It was home.

Eden started to realize that at the close of it all, when they'd done everything except some final touches—tilting signs exactly straight on the wall, final paint touch ups, Pope making sure everything was just right.

The sun was setting in the OBX, leaving everything in a muted orange hue. The Pogues all stood inside the charter shop, finalizing everything. Sarah and Kiara had gone to retrieve water for the live bait tank, and JJ was grabbing one of Eden's signs to prop up on the dock.

Cleo and John B. stood near the front, focused as they worked together to drill one of Eden's hand-painted signs into the wall. The letters were crisp and stylized, the colors vivid against the weathered wood.

"There you go," John B. hummed as Cleo pulled the drill back. "That's a good one."

"Alright?" Cleo nodded, squinting at it. She positioned the drill again. "Make sure it's not slanted."

"...It's a little slanted, but that's okay."

"Oh, come on. They might have to read sideways." Cleo groans, glancing over to watch as Eden comes near. "Rich girl! Your boy can't hold things still!"

Eden passes by behind them, barefoot, with a small sign tucked under her arm and a hammer in hand. Without even looking over, she deadpanned, "Be careful, John. That's my handwriting you're working with."

John B. holds up both hands in mock surrender. "Yes, ma'am."

The Bexley doesn't stop walking, instead smiling to herself as stands at the top of the ramp—which led down to the dock—and places a sign on the wooden plank right in front of it; 'No Shirts, No Shoes, No Service', only the last line had been sloppily taped over and rewritten in bold, black paint to say: No Problem!

She stepped back to admire it, smirking proudly as JJ passed by on the dock with another sign under his arm, headed toward his boat. He paused just long enough to read her edit and shot her a look over his shoulder.

"That your idea of marketing?" JJ asks, sly grin on his face.

Eden doesn't miss a beat. "Well, if we're both gonna be working here, it's only right to have my touch here, too."

JJ raises an eyebrow. "You wanna work here?"

Not that he expected the Pogues to bail on him, but the surf shop was everyone. The charter? That was his. A one man show he could make happen, if everyone was too focused working at the shop to join him.

"Duh." Eden turned toward him with a shrug, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You're gonna need someone to man the counter when you're off doing all your fishing shit."

JJ stared at her for a second, like he hadn't expected her to say that. Then he grinned, nodding slowly, like he was trying not to look too smug about it. "Alright then. You're hired."

"Best job ever."

"More like first job ever."

Eden rolls her eyes and goes back up the ramp. The boards are warm under her bare feet, the sun brushing golden across her skin as the orange haze deepens. She rejoins her friends within the charter shop.

"Alright, I got water." Kiara announces as her and Sarah return into the shack. "Got water for the bait tank."

She holds it out for someone else to take, and John B. comes forward, dramatically groaning as he lifts the container to the counter.

Kiara eyes the placement—she doubted it went there. "....Right?"

"Dunno." The Routledge shrugs. "That's JJ's department."

"Is that it?" Cleo nudges the Routledge to show him the final position of the sign.

"Look at that." John B. glances between the sign and the container of water.

Kiara thinks about the final check-list the Heyward had written out for them. "Last thing checked."

"It looks good."

"I think we're about done."

"Cool!"

Cleo holds her hand out, initiating the Pogue handshake with John B. The boy reciprocates the action with a fond smile at their hard work.

Eden watches them, then steps forward with a fake offense. "What, no handshake for the girl who brought that whole thing together? Hours of hand cramps—"

"Oh my God," The Routledge rolls his eyes, before pulling her close to do the handshake. When they snap, he asks, "Happy now, your majesty?"

Dramatically, Eden hums, "More than I've ever been, thanks to you, Bee."

The Routledge gives an exaggerated bow. "I live to please thee." 

"Hey, guys?"

The Pogues all turn at the sound of JJ's voice. He's standing on the dock with the ocean behind him, golden light brushing along his cheekbones and across his wind-tossed hair. He's turning his hat over in his hands, eyes flickering between each of his friends. His lips twitch with something restrained—like if he lets it take hold, he might float off the dock entirely.

"I think we did it." He breathes, a warmth swelling so big inside him it nearly knocks the air out of his lungs. It climbs from his ribs into his throat until he can't hold it back anymore. He throws his hands in the air and howls, pumping his fists. "We're in business, baby! Wow!" He starts spinning in circles, unable to stay still with the excitement and pride bursting through him. "Oh my gosh, this feels good!" 

The rest of the Pogues clump together on the dock, drawn to the commotion. The golden light hits JJ just right—his face glowing, his chest rising and falling quick with joy. There's something boyish and bright in his expression, something free that they haven't seen in a long time. They all smile warmly as they watch him move. 

"Look at this—look at that—look at that!" JJ points between different things upon the dock, things they made. He twirls around again before running down the dock. "Like, oh my God!"

 Cleo shakes her head, amused. "That boy's mad." 

JJ leaps onto The Snapper, holding himself up with one hand and yells into the wind in a British accent. "Captain Maybank at your service—now that has a ring to it! Nothing can stop a Pogue!" He leans back against the wind. "Nothing!" 

He leaps off of the boat and back onto the dock. Pure, unfiltered joy explodes out of him in movement and noise. It's the kind of joy that doesn't ask permission. It erupts.

It's his.

The dock. The shop. The friends watching him. This whole stupid beautiful dream—they made it real.

And for the first time in his whole damn life, JJ Maybank feels it; the solid, heavy warmth of something that belongs to him. Not stolen, not borrowed, not handed down in some string of desperation or pity—it's not something that can be taken, either. Not by Luke, or the cops, or the Kooks. 

It's all his. His, his, his.

"Woo!" JJ bellows. "That's what I'm talking about!"

John B. encourages with a, "Yeah!"

 Without hesitation, the Maybank breaks into a freestyle and improv dance routine, moving as the excitement tells him too. He's like a dog with zoomies, unable to stop until the energy is all out.  

Eden watches the Maybank, her expression nothing but fond. She glances at the Carrera beside her, chuckling, "He's like a golden retriever with zoomies."

Kiara shakes her head, amused at her boyfriend. "Oh, full zoomies." 

"Yeah, is he okay?" Sarah asks, doe eyes watching fondly.

"Yeah....yeah." The Carrera briefly tugs her eyes away from the scene to look at the Cameron. "He just never really had a home. He's happy." 

"Keep going!" John B. calls, bringing the girls back to the moment. They all watch as the Maybank balances on the toe of his boot. "Oh!"

"Now, do the full routine, to celebrate." Like a ballerina, the Maybank bends at the knee to create a plié. "A little plié. Now...now we do a little hot step—" He moved his feet, boots moving against the dock from heel to toe in a smooth grove. "A little hot step...."

"Wow." Cleo gapes, grinning. "Slow down, you're killin' em!"

"Slide into it—" The Maybank moves right into his next move, hoping from foot to foot while lifting the opposite arm into the air.

As he does so, Kiara rolls her eyes amusedly and moves away from where she stood between Eden and Sarah. She moves down the ramp and across the dock to her boyfriend, who's too stuck in his own excitement to see her coming.

"Twinkle toes, alright!" John B. calls out, in reference to the boy's moves.

Eden laughs, stepping beside John B., who immediately slings an arm around her shoulders with a familiarity that speaks of years and years of survival and sibling hood. She leans into him with a soft hum, eyes lingering on JJ.

"That's our boy," The Bexley muses, voice full of both pride and something impossibly tender. 

John B just shakes his head, looking at JJ like he's seeing him for the first time in a long while. "He's happy," he says simply. "Really happy."

On the dock, Kiara finally reaches JJ. The boy halts in his movements and they murmur words to each other, warm and tender. Then the Carrera wraps her arms around the blonde and pulls him in for a soft kiss. JJ practically melts, sinking into it like it's the only thing grounding him.

A chorus of wolf whistles and cheers rings out from the shop between Cleo and Eden. John B. follows with a dramatic howl, tossing his head back before pulling Sarah close and pressing a kiss to her temple. 

Forehead to forehead, the couple continues to speak to only one enough until Kiara breaks away with a cheer and JJ returns to his giddy self, "We did it!"

The two run for The Snapper, the Maybank jumping on to the side like he did before.

"Get on!"

"Captain Maybank!"

"Captain Maybank here!"

They've done it.

They're done with the gold. They're done with bad parents. The treasure that nearly broke them over and over again is finally behind them. Now, there is something new on the horizon. Something they built together, not chased or stole. A future that's theirs to shape. A future that's loud, bright, maybe even messy—but all theirs.

The Pogues have finally made it home.

mara's misc!

i'd love to act like i've been writing but this was pre-written like 2 weeks ago 

by the time you read this and it's published, i'll be at school!! monday was my first day and it was definitely something (had to hold hands with a boy for a solid 10 minutes, KILL ME). my classes are low-key not it and my two best friends are at a different school so i'm definitely not ready for everything to fully start up BUT alas i have no choice. only 

with that i do have two things to mention:

 FIRST, i posted this on my mb BUT i'd like to remind that my state did in fact ban phones in school, and my school has chosen to follow that by having us keep them in our lockers for the entire day (which is 7:35-2:25 for me). so, if you guys try to message me in any way whatsoever, don't expect a reply until after 2:30. 

SECOND, with school starting up, my free time is going to disappear!! i'm going from doing nothing all day to being somewhere without my phone for 8ish hours. with that, dance season and theater season is also starting, which'll also pack up my week (still have to audition for my show BUT i've been doing them there for 5ish years i'm getting in). most days i'll be busy from 7:30-2:30 an then 5:30-8:30 which gives me little time to actually work!! not like many of you do this, but PLEASE do not ask me when updates will be. yes, i'm going to try and stay active but between this and my little motivation for this book, i can't and won't promise anything!!

anywho, back to the chapter itself :)

everything about the first episode have i been dreading to write, but the whole house building montage was definitely one of the top things i didn't want to do. i tried my best to lengthen the clips and add my own dialogue, and given i got to like 5000 words, i think i did okay? i don't know if it captures the fact that the house did take time to build enough, given montages work better in film, but whatever. 

in my head eden stood and looked pretty half the time when all the others worked bc that's exactly what my ass would be doing in this scenario <3

hope you enjoyed <3 see you back with chapter 88!