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starkeyshirt · 1 year ago

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Sleepy Baby

little! drew

caregivers! the rest of the crew

in which drew's favorite nickname while small is baby and he's one very sleepy baby.

<<•>>

"Come on, Drew! Smile!" Drew whined in response, burying his head into the couch cushions. He curled his body up into a little ball, leaning into Chase for some contact. Chase chuckled at his antics, rubbing his back gently.

Rudy smiled in amusement, watching Madelyn try desperately to catch the boy's attention to snap a cute photo of him. The crew never posted anything while Drew was little, but they loved keeping a small collection of them just for themselves. They saw it as a way to show their true love and support for their coworker and friend. "Don't go all shy on us now!"

Drew wiggled his body in protest, refusing to remove his head from the cushions. "Noo..."

Giggling, Madison piped up from her position next to Chase. "Come on, baby. Don't you want to say cheese for Madelyn?"

At his favorite nickname, Drew perked up. He lifted his head from the cushion, leaning over Chase to get his balance. Chase grinned, using the hand that wasn't holding the TV remote to pat down Drew's messy, short hair. Everyone could agree he looked adorable, adorned in a huge hoodie of Rudy's, baggy sweatpants, with a blanket cape over his shoulders. His hair was messy even with Chase's attempts at fixing it, his cheeks rosy from their outdoor excursions and his eyes red around the rims in tiredness. He was adorable.

"There you are! You're just a sleepy baby, aren't you?" Madelyn smiled fondly at her friend, noting how once again Drew's favorite small petname came in handy once again. As far as they have noticed, that name never fails to catch his attention - and it's a huge trigger of his regression, too. They had to deal with lots of tears when it was used in a joke at a party and Drew was left struggling with his mind all night long. "Smile for me, sleepy baby."

Drew sat up on his knees, giggling groggily as he did so. He was so so sleepy, but he closed his eyes and smiled as hard as he could anyway because he liked making his friends happy. He knew they supported him and it was the best feeling his could ask for.

Madelyn clicked her phone and the picture was taken, and she immediately sent it to their group chat. Everyone's phones dinged at once. Drew shuffled over to Jonathan, flopping out into a laying position. He twisted his body so he was laying on his back, looking up at his younger friend with an upside down and lopsided smile.

Jonathan smiled, redirecting his eyes from the television to Drew. "Well hello there."

Drew giggled. "Hi."

They said nothing more, but Drew was comfortable with that. He was getting very tired anyway. He scrunched his legs up and closed his eyes for a moment, letting a baby-like sigh slip past his pink lips. He was so sleepy!

His rest didn't last very long, though. Chase interrupted him with a hand on his leg. "Don't go falling asleep yet, baby. You still need to change and brush your teeth. You know the rules."

And when he says rules, he means the few things Drew had asked them to make sure he does when he's small. When they have time off, Drew is often small for a few days at a time. He's never good about brushing his teeth or showering or doing some of his basic hygiene stuff while in his headspace, and so he asked his friends if they would help him keep up with that while regressed. They often course agreed, and it honestly wasn't much different than when Drew was big and sleepy; he never wanted to brush his teeth, he always wanted to go straight to bed.

Drew whined, opening his eyes to glare at Chase. He pouted. Chase stood up, towering over the other boy. He stretched his hand out for Drew to take. "Come on, I'll help you."

Drew whined, refusing to take Chase's hand. He sunk back into the couch as far as he could. He was just so comfy, he didn't want to move!

"Drew. Come on, buddy. I know you're tired. What if Rudy came, too? He always makes it fun." Chase offered, sending a wink towards Rudy.

Rudy hopped up from his seat and chimed in helpfully. "I would be honored to be at your service, young sir."

Rudy playfully bowed, eliciting a giggle from Drew. Sleepily, the regressed boy complied, extending his arms for Chase to grab. Chase did so happily, grabbing Drew's hands and helping him to a standing position. Drew fisted his hands into sweaterpaws, rubbing at his eyes sleepily.

The three boys started to make their way out of the living area, stopping at the exit. Chase spoke up softly. "Wave goodnight to Maddie, Madison, and Jonathan, baby."

Drew lazily waved to the others, smiling at their renditions of "goodnight drew" or "goodnight baby." He gently nibbled on the end of one of his sweater paws for comfort, something he often did when he was really sleepy. He then took Chase's hand with his other, shuffling behind as his friends led him to the bathroom.

It was mostly Rudy helping Drew brush his teeth, which turned into him basically brushing the mentally younger's teeth for him while he sat on the counter. Drew was sleepy but very compliant, and the whole teeth brushing ordeal didn't take very long. Chase set out the boy's favorite fluffy pajamas while he was brushing his teeth.

The changing process was very quick too, and once again it was mostly Rudy and Chase doing all of the work. They didn't mind, though. Their friend was absolutely adorable while small and they enjoyed helping him. It was sweet knowing he trusted them with such a precious thing.

"Alright, Drewy, ready for sleep?" Chase asked, bringing the boy's blanket over him.

Drew merely hummed in response, burrowing into his pillow. He was asleep before Rudy could even say goodnight.

Rudy and Chase stood there for a moment longer, silently admiring the friendship they all formed while working together. Knowing they trusted each other enough to share big secrets like Drew's, well that felt really great.

#agere little #kiara carrera #outer banks #outer banks agere #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron #rafe obx #age dreaming #agere #agere caregiver #drew starkey #agere drew #chase stokes #rudy pankow #jonathan davis #little space #sfw agere #adorable #sleepy

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starkeyshirt · 1 year ago

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Kitchen Calls

jj x john b

i wrote this quite while ago! it's not necessarily an age regression story, but i imagine jj as an age dreamer of sorts, so i figured it kind of fits. enjoy!

tw//: abuse, blood, injuries, crying.

<<•>>

JJ's ribs stung with an undeniable pain; echoing through his body with every kick. Blood dripped from his lips and his vision blurred in and out.

"Piece of shit!" Luke screamed at his son, kicking him in the ribs one last time before chucking the almost-empty bottle at his head. The glass shattered against JJ's skin, causing it to erupt in an unbelievable amount of pain. "You're the damn reason your momma left, you know it too! Should've killed you a long time ago, boy."

JJ watched with bleary eyes as his father stomped off, slamming their crappy door against it's hinges. He could hear the stomping until his truck started, then, he was gone. JJ knew he wasn't in the clear; his father would return, and nobody wanted to be around when he came home. Coughing up more blood, the blond boy forced himself into a sitting position. His soft, golden mop fell over his eyes, mixing with sweat, blood, and tears on his face.

JJ's ribs throbbed almost unbearably as he stood up, leaning against the counter for stability. He was damn sure his stomach was blotches of any color but the pale tan it should be. It always was when his dad was done with him.

JJ has learned overtime what to simply expect from his dad, what to know was going to happen before it did. He knew what pain was coming when he showed up at home after weeks without money for his dad. He knew what names he would be called, and that he probably wouldn't even make it to his room to grab the belongings he came there for. JJ knew all these things, yet he still went back. He probably always would; until the day his father killed him.

Somewhere in his slightly brainwashed methods of thinking, JJ completely believed everything his father told him was true; Ungrateful, stupid, useless, unlovable. They were all things his father called him the most, and in some ways, they did in fact apply to JJ.

He convinced himself he was ungrateful. He still cried when his father gave him what he deserved, even when he did nothing to contribute to their poverty. He did nothing to help his dad; he didn't give him enough money, he pushed him to drink. He was ungrateful.

JJ convinced himself he was stupid. He failed classes in school and barely tried, too preoccupied with himself to focus on class. He led his friends into dangerous situations with dangerous people, simply because he didn't use his head. He thought with the weed he smoked, and all that did was give him a false sense of confidence. He was stupid.

He convinced himself he was useless; never really needed to anyone, just there. He mooched off of everyone and everything around him, barely contributing to his friends or his own father. He didn't do them any good, only weighing them down with his own mental and emotional baggage. JJ was useless.

And most of all, JJ convinced himself he was unlovable. It's the perfect word to describe him, in his own mind. Unable to be loved by his own father, who despises him because of his mother. At one point in time he earned his mother's love, only for her to rip it all away when she left without a warning. Without a goodbye. Unlovable to everyone and anyone, because nobody could love somebody as messed up as JJ Maybank.

"Fuck!" The blond screamed, fist colliding harshly with the cheaply stained wood creating his father's joke of a kitchen. Tears flowed heavily down his cheeks, an expression filled with none other than emotion on his face. Simple emotion, that's the only way he would put it.

Cuts from the glass dropped coppery blood down his face, and his ribs pounded from their squished position against his knees. JJ's hands intertwined into his hair, pulling desperately against his blond locks in a weak attempt to stop the wave of emotions threatening to rip through his tear ducts. JJ kept a firm grip on his hair, attempting to stand himself upright to no avail; waves of pain ripped through his ribs, sending him to the ground with a yelp of pain.

He weakly wiggled his phone from his pocket, punching in a number he had memorized by heart. JJ hated with everything he had to call for help, fully believing he didn't deserve it. But he was wasting time, and he really didn't want to be lying on the floor when his dad stormed in again, more drunk than he was before.

"J? What's taking you so long, I thought you only went for clothes?" John B's warm, concerned voice broke through the ringing, filling JJ's heart with a love he felt he didn't deserve. Sobs ripped from the boy's mouth; violent, harsh cries filled to the brim with pain and suffering, immediately making John B fill with panic. After all the years he'd been friends with JJ, been with JJ, he'd never heard him cry like that.

"I can't take this anymore," JJ sobbed, hearing the faint start up of their van, the Twinkie, while John B left the chateau. "I'm so tired."

"Hey, babe, you've gotta breathe. I'm coming to get you, just breathe. Remember what we talked about?" John B soothed, listening to JJ's breathing becoming increasingly uneven and rapid, the boy spiraling himself into an anxiety induced panic attack quickly.

"Yeah." JJ replied faintly, bringing his left hand up to his face. He held his thumb merely a few centimeters away from his lips, blowing gently onto it. As a kid, JJ would suck his thumb to calm himself down. He stopped by the time he was nine, his father having broken his left thumb after he caught him with it between his lips. Men don't need comfort, was what he had said. From that time until just a few months ago, JJ was at a loss for a way to comfort himself, always spiraling into horrible panic attacks until he'd choke on his own tears and throw up or breathe too fast and pass out. He hated it. After multiple situations in which John B was left to slow his boyfriend's rapid breathing, he noticed how he always had his left hand near his face, fisted with only his thumb out. Anybody else might not have noticed it, but after multiple times, John B caught on. Together, they had done some testing and came up with another thing that helped JJ focus and calm himself, a coping mechanism without the trauma his father caused him so early in his life.

John B smiled fondly as he sped down the street light roads, listening to JJ softly blowing against his thumb time after time again, his breathing obviously recovering in the slightest.

"Good boy, J. You're doing so good." John B praised softly, pulling in outside JJ's broken home. He didn't hesitate to fly up the old steps and into the other boy's kitchen.

The sight would've been deemed precious by John B if it we're for the circumstances. JJ was sat against the cupboards, his right arm tightly around his knees, holding them close to his chest. His thumb was still held against his lips, although his mouth was parted slightly. Instead of blowing on his finger he had settled for resting it in-between his lips, having grown tired of blowing air out of his lungs.

"Hey, c'mon. Let's get home," John B offered, crouching down carefully next to his wounded boyfriend. JJ shuffled ever so slightly, just enough so John B could swoop one arm under his legs and his other supporting his back. A whine escaped his breath when his ribs were jostled, John shushing him. JJ stuck his face into the other's horrible, horrible brightly colored shirt, breathing in the scent he loved so much.

John B hummed softly as he carried JJ to the car, hating how small and fragile the boy seemed in his arms. He was probably one of the only people to ever see this side of JJ; he was always cracking jokes and rambling off, making himself the loud, boisterous one of the group to cope. JJ was never sad, and it hurt to see him hurting. John B would never get used to it.

"Hey, I'm gonna run in and grab your clothes and stuff, okay? I don't want you coming back here for a while," John B explained gently placing the blond down in the front seat. Not much more than a wince escaped his lover's lips, a small nod being given in response to the question. "I'll be right back."

JJ's busted lip left an imprint of coppery blood on John B's lips when he gave him a small peck, only making the brunette feel guilty. Guilty, only that he couldn't protect his boy.

John B gathered both things JJ needed and things he knew JJ would want, because those were two completely different things. Shirts, shorts, sunglasses, toothbrush (JB would never admit it out loud, but he truly didn't appreciate sharing his own toothbrush every single morning); all things JJ would need. Then, he tossed in extra hoodies and his blanket, grabbing his fluffy (and in JJ's words very manly) pillow and stuffing it under his arm. That's another thing he's learned about JJ over the years. Despite living in the Outer Banks, the blond boy always insisted on piling himself under as many soft things as he could find after something traumatic happens. It was always a few hours later, after things settled and his wounds or anything else were cared for, but it happened everytime without a doubt. The first few times John B had witnessed JJ do this, he quite frankly thought the boy was going to suffocate himself. Overtime, though, JJ even managed to get John B to join him under all the blankets and pillows, cuddling together as if they were in Antarctica and freezing to death. It was a comfort thing, he supposed.

The sky was dark already, the day having passed quicker than either boy expected. JJ was slowly bouncing back to his usual self on the way back, still very much hurt and upset, but just a little tiny bit less miserable.

"C'mon, Princess. It's time for the chateau nurse to take over your injuries," John B joked, playfully bowing down as he opened JJ's car door. He (carefully) scooped the boy into his arms, listening to the small, wet giggles escaping his boyfriend's throat. JJ sniffed repeatedly, having been too stubborn in the car to blow his nose. Sometimes, John B wondered how he ever started dating such an man-child, but he'd love him nonetheless.

John B carried everything in with only one trip, JJ in his arms, the bag slung over his neck. JJ held onto his pillow. Everything got tossed beside the couch, JJ being set delicately on one of the cushions. John B turned towards the bathroom for their medical supplies. "Don't move."

"It's not like I'm gonna limp to Figure 8," JJ replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

John B rolled his eyes as well. "Happy to see you're feeling better."

John B returned within seconds, carrying an arm-load of bandages, antiseptic, cotton rounds, and a joint. He handed JJ the lit joint, placing it in-between the boy's lips directly. John B then bent down to lift JJ's shirt over his head, the smaller blond purposefully blowing the smoke from the joint into his face.

John B sighed, glancing at the variously unnatural colors covering his boyfriend's midsection. JJ's ribs were swollen black and blue, bits of yellow mixed in with it. It hurt him everytime he had to see his love like that, beaten like a dog by the person supposed to love him most. John B knew JJ saw the look on his face, watching with soft eyes as the boy looked away guilty, looking much like a kicked puppy.

"Hey, look at me," John B instructed, dragging his hand up to JJ's chin. He redirected his focus, turning his head until the boy was meeting his eyes. "None of this is your fault. You don't deserve to be treated this way, by anyone. You're perfect."

Instead of avoiding his gaze, blue orbs simply stared into brown ones, a sinful guilt trickling out of them. "I do deserve it, John B. I drove him to be like this."

"You didn't drive anyone anywhere, JJ. He's not a real man, only an excuse for a coward who takes his own misfortunes out on his child," John be signed, dabbing a cotton rounds with alcohol, bringing it up to JJ's face. "This might sting, bud."

The alcohol did in fact sting, strangled and suppressed whimpers escaping the blond's lips until John B was finished. "Sh, we're all done now."

With his face now free of glass shards and blood, the only noticable injuries were the scrapes left and the puffiness of his busted lip. John B could see the tiredness in his boyfriend's eyes, releasing the boy from his couch captivity whilst he left to return the first aid supplies to their normal places.

JJ was quick to hop back off the couch, scurrying around in a slightly handicapped manner; gathering all the blankets, pillows, and hoodies he could find. He made a small nest on the couch, draping a fuzzy blanket over his bare shoulders, wrapping it around himself before holding it tightly against his chest.

Bundled up and content with the amount of soft items he found, JJ set off towards John B's bedroom to find the older boy. John B was stood by the bed, preparing to toss an old Heywards hoodie over his bare torso. JJ assumed that Pope left that hoodie at the chateau sometime a year or two ago, and it ended up being one of the 'community' hoodies. JJ was pretty sure everyone in their group had worn it at some point, even Kie.

John B caught his boyfriend's eye quickly, stopping his movements when JJ shook his head firmly. "I can't wear a hoodie?"

"Nope," JJ stated firmly, shuffling forward to grab the brunette's hand. He tugged him right to the couch, shoving them both into the small den of blankets formed. John B didn't even have time to protest before he was covered in soft material, not that he would anyway. JJ was quick to curl himself into John B's bare torso, feeling all the tension slip from his body at the contact. Skin-to-skin contact was another thing JJ loved, it calmed him effectively and quickly. John B knew this, giving he was one of the only people JJ would allow himself to be that close with. Kiara and John B, that was it. He didn't know why, but stemming from his home life, JJ assumed he saw them almost as parental figures - except he was dating John B. It may not make much sense, but a lot of things about JJ don't make sense.

"Can we go surfing tomorrow?" JJ asked suddenly.

John B laughed, lightheartedly, loving everything about the boy in his arms. Giving a quick kiss to JJ's head, he smiled fondly.

"Of course we can go surfing tomorrow, sunshine."

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starkeyshirt · 1 year ago

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"But there's puppies, Maddie!"

little! drew

caregivers! the rest of the crew

it's common knowledge that drew could fall in love with every dog he meets, and just that happens when the group comes across some puppies on set!

this is very short compared to my usual writing, but i just couldn't resist! it seemed like such a sweet little idea in my head and i just had to write it. i promise my next post will be longer!

<<•>>

"Come on Drew, we've gotta go!"

"But there's puppies, Maddie!" A small pout was visible on the short haired boy's face as three little puppies danced around him. Drew was sitting on his bum with his legs spread out all wonky, looking at the squirmy little animals with nothing but pure adoration.

If there was anything Drew loved the most in the entire world, it would have to be puppies. They didn't even have to be itty bitty babies like these ones, he just loved dogs in general.

Neither Drew nor Madelyn even knew who's puppies they were. The little dogs had to have belonged to someone on set to be there, therefore they saw nothing wrong with stopping for a few cuddles on their way out. Madelyn, Madison, Rudy, Chase, Jonathan, and Austin were all simultaneously regretting such decision as they watched Drew sit spread out and giggling on the floor with puppies licking his face.

It wasn't that they didn't enjoy seeing their friend happy, because they truly did! The only issues were that it was late, they were tired, and everyone was rather groggy or grumpy and ready to head back to their hotel rooms for the night. Drew had been too - he was very tired all afternoon and fighting with his headspace all throughout filming. Somehow just the sight of those puppies helped all of his tiredness slip from his mind, and allowed for a headspace slip as well.

"Come on, Drew. You've seen enough of the puppies, yeah? They need sleep too." Chase coaxed, hoping they could gather up their coworker and be on their way without any major tantrums. Chase was risking it by even speaking to Drew with that tone while in public, but from what he could see, Drew was well past slipping anyway, and some coddling wouldn't hurt.

Drew whined and looked up at his friends with big, round eyes. He pouted. "But Chase, I like the puppies."

Rudy smiled in fondness and sympathy. "I'm sure the puppies like you too, Bubba. But if we go home now, maybe we can get here early enough tomorrow to see the puppies again! How does that sound?"

Drew pouted deeper and rubbed at his eyes a little. He was really tired and the thought of going to sleep in a nice warm bed was very, very tempting. But still, he didn't want to leave the puppies behind. "We take puppies?"

Austin chuckled and shook his head. "They're not our puppies, bud. That would be puppy-napping."

"And that would make the puppies sad." Madison chimed in, knowing that Drew would be completely against making the puppies sad in any way, shape, or form.

Drew gasped. Very gently, he kissed the brown and white puppy on his lap on his tiny head before setting him gently on the ground beside him. He scooted himself up, waving to the little creatures. "I don't want to make you sad, puppies. Bye-bye."

Drew took Jonathan's hand and accepted his aid in climbing out of the puppies' enclosure. Once he was out, Chase patted him on his back. "Thank you for listening to us, Buddy."

Drew smiled big and wide. He liked it when he made his friends happy. In his little mind, puppies made everyone happy.

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starkeyshirt · 1 year ago

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Still us, just different.

little! kiara

caregiver! rafe

things have happened between them, things neither of them could change. things aren't the same as when they started, but maybe with some nurturing, they could be happy again.

<<•>>

The worst part about Singh locking her in a room with Rafe Cameron was probably the fact that she was locked in a room with Rafe Cameron.

Kiara wasn't a fearful girl; she had guts and did whatever it takes to keep her friends safe, happy, and healthy. The only difference between her current situation and others she has been in would be the idea that she is pretty much completely alone. She wasn't with her friends or anyone who cared about her; she was with a psychopathic murderer with a bad temper and an attitude that scared the part of her she hid so well.

Even scarier than that, she knew she was more exposed than she was used to feeling. Rafe knew her; he knew her better than either of them ever let on. Kiara's freshman year was a blur for everyone, but there's parts neither of them could forget. When Sarah and Kiara were best friends and hung out every weekend, they therefore hung out with Rafe occasionally, too. Kiara couldn't tell anyone how things progressed into what they were when her friendship with Sarah ended, mostly because she didn't understand it herself.

Whatever happened between Rafe and Kiara wasn't your average relationship between an older brother and his little sister's best friend... no, everything was always more complicated than that. Even so, Kiara remembered that day like it was yesterday, stained and engraved into the back of her mind no matter how hard she tried to erase it.

( She clutched her tiny green turtle stuffie into her chest tightly. As silly as one might think it was for a freshman to keep a stuffed animal on her, she did it anyway. She never was average, and Sarah told her it was cute. Rain poured over her, soaking her curls down so they plastered against her head and face, causing the little bits of mascara she had applied earlier that morning to slide down her face in chunks and streaks.

While Sarah accepted Kiara with open arms, the other kids at the Kook Academy weren't as friendly. It seemed to her that every little move she made was wrong; if she talked about surfing she was laughed at and if she talked about animals or conservation she was called a nerd. She didn't wear the expensive makeup the other girls wore or have any interest in the tight skirts and shirts. Instead she dressed how she always did; mismatching tri colored pants with a white tank top with jewelry that matched.

Kiara had only ended up in the rain with a mix of salty tears and rainwater dripping from her cheeks after being bombarded by some of the kook boys on her way out of school. Despite it being that those same boys had teased her that same day in class, their intentions were clearly less than platonic. With four of them and one of her, she barely managed to wriggled away and stuff herself under the football bleachers where none of them could see her. Her day was more than rough; she was exhausted and just about ready to slit her wrists without the rain and asshole boys harassing her, meaning she was really ready by now.

Kiara felt fuzzy in her chest and her head as she sat in the rain, only partially covered from the downpour. It was nearly a normal feeling for her by now; the fuzzy and groggy feeling that accompanied her every time things just became a little too much - or a lot too much. She honestly couldn't remember when she slipped the small turtle from her bag, but she figured nobody would notice anyway. All of the other students were long gone by now, it was just her left under the bleachers. Or so she thought.

In the distance, a sopping wet Rafe Cameron slushed his wet feet miserably through the wet grass of the football field. He needed his bag from the locker room all the way at the bottom of the field, and he was honestly questioning saying 'fuck it' and going home without it instead. If he hadn't got caught up with that stupid teacher he would've made it out before the rain anyway.

As he stomped on, Rafe stopped in his tracks. Underneath the bleachers he could just barely make out a slumped figure with soaked curly hair and an equally as soaked shoulder bag beside them. Rafe could recognize those features anywhere. Changing his direction, Rafe continued to slosh through the grass, this time towards the bleachers instead.

Kiara couldn't hear Rafe's footsteps until he was just a few steps away, whether that be because of the sound the rain made as it pinged against the bleachers, or the small sounds her own pitiful cries made. She looked up fearfully when she heard them, letting out a breath as she recognized the figure as her best friend's older brother. She was grateful for someone she knew.

"Kie?" Rafe questioned, crouching down besides the bleachers. Kiara pushed the little turtle into her lap in an attempt to hide it. It was to no avail, because Rafe saw it anyway. "Are you okay?"

Kiara nodded quickly, trying to ignore the fuzz clouding her brain as she brought a hand up to pat down her ruined hair. She sniffled and it sounded embarrassingly loud. She flushed.

Rafe brought his eyebrows together. He was observant; he noticed the tear stains that mixed with the dribbling rainwater and the smushed mascara under her eyes. He noticed the tremble to her lips and the shiver in her hands. He knew she was scared, and something else was up, too.

Without a second thought, Rafe snuck under the bleachers to sit down beside her. She met his blue eyes with big doe eyes and Rafe felt the overwhelming urge to protect her and completely end whoever hurt her. He wanted to care for her, be her shelter.

As he sat down, she subconsciously shifted closer to him like an injured puppy seeking comfort. He took that as an okay and slipped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her freezing body into his slightly warmer frame. He didn't know where this side of him came from, but while it was here, he just wanted to get her some place dry and warm before she caught a cold.

"Hey, come with me. It's dry and warm in the locker rooms," Rafe offered, leaning back to meet her wide eyes. Kiara nodded, against any dignity she had left. Fuzzy- feeling Kiara was very different than normal, stubborn Kiara. In the presence of another, she was starting to wonder what the fuzzy feeling really was.

Rafe shimmied out from under the bleachers, turning around only to see Kiara hadn't following suit. She watched quietly, tired and fuzzy, and cold with the strange urge to cling onto someone warm.

"C'mon, Kie." Rafe coaxed her out, extending his right hand for her to grab onto. He watched her secure her turtle and her bag in one hand before shuffling out and grabbing onto Rafe's with the other. He smiled. "Good job."

Kiara smiled too, in a childish way. Rafe felt proud that he made the sad girl smile.

The older boy brought her to the locker room, immediately locating his bag and searching through it for a towel. He wrapped it around her shoulders once he'd found it, then went back to digging through all of his belongings for drier clothes for her to wear. The rain had slowed now, it shouldn't be stopping soon. If she changed he knew she wouldn't get soaked again.

Once he found the clothes, he handed them to her as well and showed her a private area where she could change. Rafe then drove her home and was greeted graciously by her parents and while they didn't know the entirety of her compromised state, they were worried when their little girl hadn't returned to school. They were beyond grateful she had a friend like Sarah, whose family accepted her as one of their own - and clearly Rafe had her back too. )

Kiara fiddled with a tag on the bedsheets as the memories replayed in her head. There were so many more than just that first day, so many experiences and emotions that she had spent so long penning up and shoving down just for them to all resurface as soon as she was stuck in a room with him. She could feel that small part of herself that wanted to latch onto him and never let go; to be held and loved and for him to be the caregiver he was to her just one year ago. She wanted to trust him and let him be in control, but she couldn't. She was afraid of him. He had done horrible things, he had hurt her friends and stole from them all. He had shot Peterkin and allowed John B to take the fall. He wasn't trustworthy. She knew that. But she also still felt like she knew the real person he was underneath it all.

"Do you still have him?"

Kiara's eyes snapped up and locked with his. "Huh?"

Rafe looked away, guilty with all of his actions, with everything that had happened in just one short year. "I meant Greenie. Do you still have him?"

Kiara tinted pink at the mention of her favorite stuffed turtle from that very first day. Rafe had helped her name it: Greenie. She recognized that softness to his tone, a softness reserved just for her. Oh how she had missed that. "Yeah, I still have him."

Kiara watched as Rafe started to pace a little, back and forth and in circles. She could read every behavior he had, and she knew he was guilty. Guilty and just as anxious as she was. She knew what he was going to say.

"Kie, I really am sorry for everything. I will admit that, what I did to Sarah, what I- I tried to do, that was wrong." Kiara watched as Rafe's face scrunched up and a tear slid down his face. He gestured vaguely with his hands as he spoke, heavy emotion pouring from his voice. "She was family, I never should have touched her! I- I was wrong. I know that, alright? So you don't have to remind me."

Rafe brought his hands up to cup his face as more tears dripped from his eyes to the floor. Kiara couldn't stand it, seeing him this way. She knew Rafe had a good soul, she knew him from before any of this happened. She knew he struggled with his father, she knew he was devoted to him in a scary way - his devotion without love was what ended him in this predicament in the first place.

As tears welled in her own eyes, Kiara shifted off of the bed and shuffled over to Rafe. She figured he couldn't see her through his hands over his face, but she crashed forward and hugged him anyway. She clung to him like she did all of those times last year.

It took Rafe a second to process Kiara's arms around him. He brought his hands away from his tear streaked face and after pausing for a second, wrapped them around Kiara's small frame and returned the hug. She basked in the way his arms fit around her, as if they were never separated and things between them never got rough. The feeling of love that didn't come from romance, but from two people wanting to keep the other safe.

She snuggled her face into his chest and he hugged her tighter. She was tired; tired of fighting with her mental state and tired of fighting with the idea that she shouldn't enjoy Rafe's presence. The damage was already done, she already had an attachment to him and she knew him for who he really was. Kiara couldn't help but need him.

After a few moments of silence, Rafe spoke up, softer this time. "Will you give me a second chance? Please?"

Kiara nodded before she thought. More tears slipped down her cheeks, and even she didn't know why she was crying. She just felt like she needed to. And Rafe, he was glad she was letting herself cry, feeling the emotions he knows she tries to hide so often.

When she subconsciously shifted her weight into him, Rafe didn't hesitate to scoop her up and set her on the bed with ease. His troubled eyes met her wide ones, and it again was as if there was never a drift between them; they loved each other. He loved her in the way a father loves his own child and she adored him the way that child adores their father.

"I missed you." Kiara mumbled, taking her smaller fingers and using them to grasp onto his larger ones. Ever so gently, she played with his fingers in her grasp. He smiled at her fondly.

"I missed you even more, sweetheart. Now, when was the last time you slipped?" Rafe asked, a comforting amount of concern filling his voice. It wasn't so much as to make her feel bad, but just enough that she knew he really, genuinely cared.

Kiara did have to think for a moment. Throughout the past year, her regression had become a thing of the past. Without Rafe it never felt right, and after a while she stopped trying altogether. "Since you..."

Rafe caught her eyes and nodded so she knew he understood. He ran his large hand through her hair in a calming motion. "I figured so, anyway. No need to feel bad."

Kiara smiled the biggest smile she could muster (it was still pretty small, but even the effort was enough to make Rafe smile.)

Rafe crouched down in front of the bed to relieve his back from its hunched position. Looking into her small eyes, he swore to himself that he would not mess up again. He would not leave her alone again, and he certainly wouldn't risk her getting hurt because he's an idiot.

Kiara reached out to touch his nose, ripping him from his daze. "Nap?"

Rafe chuckled. "Sure, baby. We can nap. In the big bed?"

Kiara giggled and clapped her hands together tiredly. "Big bed!"

And Rafe knew he would get her out of that fortress safely, and that from now on he would protect her every chance he could.

#outerbanks rafe #outer banks agere #outer banks #rafe cameron #kiara obx #kiara carrera #safe agere #age regression community #age dreaming #agere #age regression blog #hurt/comfort #reunited #agere caregiver #agere little #comfort #rafe obx #sfw agere #sfw interaction only

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starkeyshirt · 1 year ago

Text

Manipulated

little! rafe cameron

caregivers! the pogues

in which rafe is manipulated by more people than just his father.

tw//: manipulation, low self esteem, guilt, feeling unwanted, pushing, talk of drug use (cocaine).

<<•>>

When people hear of Rafe Cameron, their minds drift to the cocaine addicted, polo shirt wearing, bad tempered young man with a rich dad and a pretty sister. Those who know him better think of a cold blooded killer, the guilty suspect in Sheriff Peterkin's murder and an accomplice in several others. But truly, do any of those people really know Rafe Cameron?

Rafe Cameron is a boy with a complex personality, substance abuse issues, and a devotion to his father. It's hard to look at such a bad person and think, "Hmm, maybe he's just misunderstood." But the truth about Rafe is that he isn't a bad person; he's a lost boy with daddy issues to a point causing damage beyond repair.

Throughout his entire life, Rafe has wanted to please his father. He wanted to draw the pictures in art class he thought his father would like and do good in the subjects his father enjoyed. He wanted to beat his sister in making his father a father's day breakfast or in buying him a new watch. Rafe wanted to hear his father tell him he was proud of him. He wanted his fathers trust and love, he wanted to be useful and needed with every step he took.

Rafe was never a mean kid. When he was a little boy he didn't have many friends and he didn't like going to school. The other kook boys were loud and obnoxious and uncaring, and Rafe was quieter with a lazier personality. When he first started kindergarten, being his father's only child attending school at the time, he cried every day when his father picked him up and clung to him for dear life. He couldn't tell anyone why; it was that childish urge to hold onto your parents and cry and never let go. He didn't want to be in school wearing polos and khaki pants, he just wanted to be at home with his daddy.

Then one day, when Rafe came crying to his father at the end of the school day, Ward Cameron didn't bend down and scoop his distraught son into a comforting hug. Rafe could tell his father was on the phone, and even though he took his hand and led him to the truck, his father paid him no attention whatsoever. As Rafe sniffled in the backseat, he listened to his father's phone call. It was something about Sarah being upset with whatever babysitter had to watch her while their dad was at work. When they picked his crying little sister up and his father cuddled her and talked to her and comforted her the whole way home, little Rafe felt anger for the very first time. He hated his sister and his father for liking her more.

That night while she slept, Rafe cut a chunk of her hair out with safety scissors.

Rafe was never the same after that day, and he was suddenly aware of the dynamics in their household. Sarah always came first, Rafe was always second. Sarah didn't have to compete for anything, but Rafe sure did. He learned to really and truly hate his sister, to take everything from her that he could in hopes that his father would someday realize he was just as good of a person.

As he grew older, Rafe also grew erratic, impulsive, and emotionally unstable. He received little to no love from his father by the time he was nine, but he still spent every waking moment trying to receive that praise that only Ward could give him. And we all know how things went from there.

Rafe was aware of the things he's done; he knew he was wrong and the guilt ripped away at him everyday. But there were things about Rafe that nobody knew; people controlling him who weren't his father.

•••

Rafe didn't know what he was supposed to do. His brain was short circuiting, but he knew Barry was pissed.

"You do realize what you did, right man? By hurting the guy, you're putting a target on my back, Country Club!" Barry yelled, shoving his finger into Rafe's chest. He watched him quiver.

"I- I didn't know what to do! He was gonna kill him!" Rafe stuttered back, shoving his arms forward in a weak attempt at proving his point.

Barry laughed and rolled his eyes. "That's what you signed up for!"

"I changed my mind..." Rafe mumbled, rocking forward to place his head in his hands. Tears welled at his eyes and his chest was stinging.

Barry knew how to work Rafe. He had his brain wired so he performed when he needed him to but also in a way that Barry could trigger when he crashed. And Barry liked to think he was the only person who could control Rafe in that way; he helped Rafe discover that softness, and he was the only one who could access it.

Rafe's abandonment from his father caused strains on his mental state. A lifetime of fighting for his father's praise, competing for his love - well, that left very little time for a childhood or any way to relax. Barry saw it before Rafe even knew it happened. When Rafe reaches his breaking point and emotions spill from his eyes, that's when Barry can see his mind drifting away; it's a clear switch of mindsets, of headspaces, that Barry recognized well. Something he has used for leverage in many deals, and he could use said leverage to control Rafe.

The first time it ever happened, Rafe was terrified. He couldn't understand what had changed; one second he was freaking out with frustration tears flowing down his cheeks and a heat in his chest, and the next he was being shushed on the drug dealer's shoulder, soaking his shirt with sobs.

Rafe had never let himself be so weak in front of anyone before, not since that last time in kindergarten when he cried on his father's shoulder. He didn't understand what was different either, he didn't feel the switch in his brain - and if he did, he didn't understand it. All he knew was suddenly, he was encapsulated in a warm embrace much like the one he daydreamed about for many years and he had a distinct warm, calming feeling in his chest. His mind was quiet, and things were peaceful until he woke up the next morning and lost his shit again.

Things only became routine when Barry threatened him. When Barry turned him in because he was trying to be resilient against whatever mind games were being played on him, but Rafe learned his lesson. Barry was in control and he had proved that, and when he returned to the Outer Banks, Rafe came back to him like a kicked puppy with his tail between his legs.

Since that day, Barry has felt like a god; he held the remote to control Rafe Cameron, the rich and completely mentally unstable young man with a bad temper and a quick impulse to shoot a gun. Every time he visited Barry, he was freaking out. And every time he was freaking out, Barry did the same thing he did that night before he turned him in: Barry held him and let him cry into his shoulder, he whispered soft things into his ear and Rafe's mind melted away. Rafe would hug Barry tight and embrace himself in having at least one person he felt he could hold onto.

And then Barry would let him sleep in his trailer, he would share his bed and let Rafe lay with his head on his chest. Rafe didn't talk much when he felt like this, but Barry made up for it. He talked nonsense and told him stories Rafe would forget when he woke up in the morning. Rafe would never admit that he enjoyed the relaxation this weird situation brought him, but every morning after, when he was snapped out of his little daze and back into reality, he was always scared and furious. He always felt out of control of his own body and he usually had to break something to feel better.

Rafe felt the familiar fog in his chest starting to well up as he avoided Barry's gaze. He had never felt that way when Barry was angry before; he had only ever fallen into that mindset when Barry was hugging him or saying nicer things. Rafe didn't know what to make of himself, mostly because he didn't trust his mouth to say what his brain wanted it to and partly because he was afraid Barry would hurt him.

"Are you even listening? Nah nah, don't be starting that baby shit with me, Country Club. Get the hell out of here, man!" Barry shoved Rafe away from his trailer by his chest.

Rafe stumbled, glancing at Barry with a dull and blank look of confusion and highness, but layers of sadness and guilt hid underneath. He could hear Barry shouting as he stumbled away, although he couldn't make out what he was yelling; he was far too busy watching his own far away feet to notice. He felt like he was drunk, his vision blurring and his mind not comprehending right. Rafe didn't know where to go, either. He couldn't walk back to Tannyhill from Barry's, it was much too far. And he didn't really know anybody who lived on the cut.

Rafe started thinking about the things Barry used to talk about when he felt like this. He mumbled to himself about sea animals and the beach, making up little stories as he stumbled along in a childish attempt to keep himself awake and on his feet. Sooner or later, the kook found himself walking up the driveway of the pogues' chauteu, ready to fall over his own feet or fall asleep standing up.

If Rafe was in his normal mindset, he would have never risked going to the pogues with everything going on, but with that fuzzy feeling in his chest and the cloudiness in his head, he found nothing wrong with it. It was Kiara who opened the door after he stumbled up the steps and knocked on the door. Her face dropped into a scowl once she saw him. Rafe flinched and angled his eyes down, something normal Rafe would never do.

"What the hell are you doing here, Rafe?" Kiara hissed. Rafe saw JJ come up behind her with the same scowl on his face.

"I- I didn't know where to go." Rafe stuttered, suddenly very aware of the way his words slurred and how his tone was higher than usual.

Rafe refused to watch either of their faces, but he took the silence as his response; he was not welcomed there, just as he should have assumed. The oldest started to back himself up, still refusing to make eye contact. How could he have expected anything more? After everything he'd done to them he deserved a rightful beating, too.

"Wait," Kiara blurted just as Rafe had turned to step off the steps. Rafe hesitated to turn back around, but he did just in time to watch JJ punch her in the arm. He looked confused. Rafe didn't blame him. Rafe hated himself too.

She too hesitated before continuing, "This isn't normal, so please inform us on what the fuck is going on."

Rafe flinched a little. He didn't know why. He hated how out of his mind he felt. It was like he was high without the bliss, he couldn't function but instead of enjoying it he felt vulnerable and useless. And very tired. "I-"

JJ looked fed up with his stuttering. He pushed past Kiara, despite her protests, stomping over until he reached Rafe. He then didn't hesitate to shove him with great force down the chauteua's stairs. "That's for messing with us. Now get yourself off of our side of the island."

JJ wasn't a mean boy, but he protected what little he had and Rafe knew that. He respected it, deep down. He just never showed it and that led to actions that disrespected JJ. Rafe hated everything he'd done. He hated that he helped his father steal the gold, he hated that he stole the cross from Pope, he hated everything he ever did to hurt anyone. Rafe didn't know why he did the thing he did. He wishes he could change.

Rafe didn't move from the dirt at the bottom of the chateau steps, shaking from his position on his hands and knees on the soggy ground. Wet earth smushed in between his fingers and made him feel real gross on top of everything else. Rafe felt his lip begin to quiver and his breathing grow rapid, and even as much as he tried to hold back the fuzzy feeling in his head, he caved. The blond boy fell forward onto his elbows in the mud, salty tears beginning to slip down his cheeks. He pressed his forehead into the mud, heaving as the floodgates opened and he was left a sobbing mess.

Rafe just couldn't help it. He hated himself so thoroughly that he might actually do something to himself if he wasn't so afraid. He felt so lost and alone, he had nobody to go to and he didn't even understand what was going on with his body. He felt used and manipulated by everyone, he felt abandoned by his father and like a useless toy of Barry's. Still, he missed them both. As he cried in the mud Rafe wished his dad was next to him, rubbing his back and telling him, "You're a good boy, Rafe. A good boy." He wished he was in Barry's arms instead of on the ground by himself. He even wished Barry was making fun of him for being such a baby, because even negative attention would be some attention.

Rafe was choking on his saliva and sucking in oxygen roughly and desperately when he felt two grounding hands being placed on his shoulders. He panicked initially, flinching away and diving his face into the mud even more. When the hands didn't move or hurt him any further, he subconsciously dropped his defenses and leaned into the contact. The hands pulled his upper body over and Rafe didn't resist. He still had his eyes closed when the hands placed his head on a warm lap, crying harder with the thought that he might never feel such loving gestures again - he didn't have anyone who loved him so kindly, and he didn't even know who these hands belonged to. Rafe dropped his butt from its nearly downward dog position, flopping into the mud entirely out of pure exhaustion. He was just so, so tired. So sad and so tired.

Rafe slowly calmed himself as he felt the mystery hands run themselves through his hair and over his neck in rhythmic motions. They were so gentle and so kind, Rafe questioned who would treat a monster like himself with so much love and care, even if it was just for a moment. As his breathing slowed and the waterworks died down, Rafe came to his senses enough to hear that whoever the hands belonged to was humming softly to him. It wasn't a tune he recognized, but that made it even more comforting.

Shamefully, Rafe opened his eyes and lifted his red face from the lap that he had properly soaked with his tears. He felt guilty just for that. Looking up, Rafe was met with concerned eyes belonging to none other than Kiara Carrera. "Rafe? Can you hear me?"

Rafe heard her, but he was terrified. He didn't know how to respond. Glancing over, he was met with the wide eyes of none other than JJ, John B, Pope, and his own sister. He was mortified.

"Rafe?" Kiara, while in no way liking the other male, couldn't help but be concerned when he collapsed in a full meltdown after being pushed; Kiara had seen him function fine in far worse fights than that. Rafe didn't seem right, and although he never truly did, she knew Rafe enough to know that this was not what normal out of his mind Rafe was like. No, this was very different.

Rafe shifted his eyes down and nodded, closing his fingers together in his lap. Kiara was just glad for some acknowledgment that he had heard her. She sighed lightly.

"Okay, good. Can you help me understand what's going on?" Kiara asked kindly. She didn't intentionally start speaking to Rafe like he was a scared child, but when he wasn't answering her, she didn't know how else to talk to him.

Rafe wasn't sure how to explain what he felt. He felt like he was broken and this wasn't a normal thing to feel. Without looking up, Rafe spoke quietly. "Fuzzy."

Kiara scrunched her eyebrows together. "Fuzzy? You feel fuzzy?"

Rafe nodded and then paused. Even quieter this time, he spoke again. "Broken."

Without a second thought, Sarah intervened. No matter how much Rafe did to hurt her, she couldn't watch her own brother sit in the mud any longer. "Hey, Kiara? Why don't you bring him in to change."

Kiara sent Sarah a grateful smile. John B, JJ, and Pope made no effort to help, but they separated off to the side to give the girls a clear path into the chateau. Carefully, Kiara stood herself up, extending her hands back down for Rafe to grab onto. Hesitantly, Rafe did just that, He grasped Kiara's hands clumsily, using them to support himself on wobbly legs as he stood. It took a lot of supporting from Kiara and a lot of focus from Rafe to make it up the stairs.

Pope and John B seemed very neutral; they were neither helping not being ignorant to Rafe. JJ, on the other hand, still sent nasty glares towards him. Rafe physically flinched away from JJ on his way through the door, stumbling into Kiara and almost making them both fall.

"It's okay," Kiara spoke kindly. "he just doesn't understand that sometimes people aren't what they seem."

Rafe had merely nodded, but her words meant a lot. He wanted to hug her, but he didn't think she would like it and he didn't want to make her muddier.

Sarah led them both into what Rafe assumed was John B's bedroom. Most of the items in there seemed like they would belong to him and some of Sarah's stuff mixed in with it. Sarah passed Rafe a towel, which he held in his right hand while he shivered. The blond girl then went from drawer to drawer in the dressers, pulling out some shorts and a shirt she thought would fit her skinnier older brother. He was much lankier than John B, but she figured it would just have to do.

"Here you go," Sarah passed Rafe the clothing. "the bathroom is the next room to the right, you're welcome to clean up in there if you would like."

Once again, Rafe adverted his eyes back down to the ground with a slight nod. He then shuffled slowly out of the room and the girls waited until they heard the bathroom door click to move or do anything.

Kiara turned to Sarah. "Have you ever seen him like that before? I mean I know he tried to drown you and all, but something really seems to be up there. "

Sarah nodded. "No, I completely agree. Something's up, and if we want to be even average human beings and try to sort things out, the boys have to be on board."

"Let me handle them." Kiara made a finger gesture to the kitchen.

Sarah smiled fondly and copied her gesture, directing hers towards the bathroom. "And I'll check up on him."

Sarah approached the bathroom door, gently pressing her ear against it for any signs of her older brother still getting himself cleaned up. She was met with silence. Drawing her eyebrows together, she knocked lightly and spoke up. "Hey, Rafe? Are you okay in there?"

On the other side of the door, silent tears slipped down the dirty blond boy's face as he struggled to unbutton his khaki pants. He knew how to unbutton them, he did it every day! So why couldn't he do it now? Rafe let out a frustrated whine as he yanked on the pants to no avail.

Sarah heard the small whine, knocking on the door again. "Rafe, are you okay? Do you need help?"

Rafe sniffled loudly and nodded his head, despite knowing his sister couldn't see him. "Help."

Sarah opened the bathroom door as soon as she heard his small voice, nearly melting at the sight of her older brother clad in just his ruined khakis and his socks with tear tracks down his cheeks and a pout evident on his face. She wasn't sure where this soft spot had came from, but she was pretty sure this is how she remembered Rafe before their father created a drift between them. It strangely made her happy to remember him this way. "Oh, Rafe."

Sarah watched his bottom lip quiver as he adverted his eyes to the ground. "It's okay, buddy. I can help you."

And she did just that, quickly unbuckling his pants for him and allowing him to do the rest. She gave him as much privacy as she could, turning around to grab the new pair of shorts for him, only needing to help him further with buckling those properly. John B's surf shirt somehow managed to still be a bit short on Rafe but also hugely baggy around his shoulders. Sarah giggled about it to herself, finding it funny how two boys of the same height could vary so much.

Rafe was getting very, very tired. At this time of night when he felt this way, he would normally be reading bedtime stories in Barry's camper, all curled up into his side. He let out a yawn. Sarah led Rafe back to the main area of the chateau, where the rest of the pogues were spread out along the floor or the couches. Rafe shuffled his feet as he watched all of their eyes shift to him, feeling guilty and insecure with himself all over again. Kiara elbowed John B, and he awkwardly spoke up. "You can sit over here if you want to."

Rafe looked to Sarah, seemingly asking her to confirm he was being genuine. She smiled and nodded, ushering him forward to sit on John B's right. Sarah took her seat on the couch on the other side of her brother, with Kiara by her feet. JJ and Pope were sat on the other side of John B. Lamps illuminated the space and allowed for a golden glow, the TV quietly playing the news in the background. JJ and Pope were talking amongst themselves about something Rafe couldn't bring himself to find interest in, and Sarah and Kiara did the same. John B was kicked back in his seat with his feet propped up on the coffee table and his arms folded behind his head. His eyes were closed and Rafe studied his face. He thought he looked pretty funny.

Hesitantly but curiously, with a childish hue clouding his brain, Rafe lifted up his fingers and touched John B on his nose. When the other boy's eyes opened in confusion, Rafe leaned back and erupted in a fit of giggles. Despite his better judgment, John B felt himself smiling, too.

"What, is that funny?"John B asked Rafe, a chuckle of his own escaping his lips.

Rafe smiled proudly and nodded. "Funny."

Pausing to watch Rafe for a second, John B could've sworn he had seen these very same mannerisms before. The same giggles and simple happiness that shone through Rafe's eyes; John B knew he had seen them through someone else's, he just couldn't figure out who's. Then, it hit him.

"Hey, JJ?" John B shifted his attention to his blond best friend. Rafe still watched John B intently, like a bored small child.

"What's up, B?" JJ replied, shifting his baby blue eyes from Pope to John B.

John B sighed, "Do you remember that time your cousin was being manipulated by his old dealer? Years ago, before he started his own operation?"

JJ immediately nodded. "Yeah, the dude like, controlled his head. He could shift his headspaces pretty much with a snap of his fingers. It was fucked."

John B raised his eyebrows and looked over at Sarah and Kiara, who seemed to be brought to attention like John B himself was. "Are you guys thinking what I'm thinking?"

Sarah nodded slightly. "He does buy from that Barry douche. But JJ, how did your cousin act? Rafe seems to be acting like he did when we were younger, as far as I can remember, anyway. "

"Yeah, my cousin did too. It was just like he was a little kid again, and he couldn't come out of it willingly. I don't remember how he got over it, but maybe he never did." JJ put the pieces together in his head, too. It made sense; most of the dealers on this island were all the same, with the same mind games and tricks that they would use to both protect their operations and keep them running. Since Rafe was undeniably hooked on cocaine, it seemed almost certain that what side of him they were seeing was triggered by Barry.

As the others continued to chime in around him, Rafe grew very tired of having no attention. He was trying to be patient, he really was! But it was hard; he was tired and bored and starting to get hungry. Rafe brought his legs up in a crisscross on the couch, shifting around to face his younger sister. Gently, he tugged on her hoodie sleeve and started to fiddle with it between his fingers. Sarah smiled at him, bringing her other hand up to his hair. She rubbed gentle circles in his short hair, and he relished in the feeling by leaning into her touch.

"Well," JJ spoke up. "I would say we have our best bet on what happened, and the only thing left for us to do is keep him comfortable."

"What do you think, brother? You want to crash here for the night?" Sarah asked Rafe, ruffling her hair.

Rafe smiled brightly and nodded with enthusiasm. "Food?"

Kiara giggled. "Yes buddy, we can find some food."

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