wish i were - waywithwords (2024)

Chapter 1: me in your sweater, you said it looked better

Chapter Text

“It was…. like we had this moment.”

Joan rambled as Cleo sat at her makeup table, rubbing her eyes with a soaked piece of cotton. The make up remover stung, but it wasn’t the only pain Cleo was going through. Abe seemed off and the new budding relationship between JFK and Joan just didn’t sit right with her.

“You know, JFK and I would have moments like that all time. He’d say that super sexy sh*t like ‘your hair, er uh, is so silky smooth’ and everything like that. He’ll feed you these compliments until you explode.” Cleo murmured, as she watched Joan’s smile fade in the mirror.

“He just said he didn’t need me to be someone else to think I was beautiful. And even though I appreciated the whole makeover and everything, I just, it feels good to have someone appreciate you. And appreciate you for you.” Joan’s cheeks lit up a soft pink as she continued to go on about her “moment” with JFK, and Cleo continued to try her best to tune it out. The thing is, she wanted to keep listening.

“Anyways,” Joan continued. “I’m surprised you aren’t with Abe. Big after prom night right?” Joan teased Cleo, who simply rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what his deal is. He was super weird tonight.” Cleo left out the fact that Abe called Cleo ‘Joan’ when they were making out, and tried to ignore it like she did the first time. But the way Abe said Joan’s name was viciously repeating in her head.

“I feel like we barely saw you guys.” Cleo looked back at Joan with sharp eyes. “We?” Cleo asked, voice tense. “Oh, Jack and I. You know we left a little early, and just went to the grassy knoll. It was nice just to hang out with him alone without the whole trauma that prom brings along with it.” Cleo was extremely unsettled with the ease “Jack” slipped from Joan’s lips, but she ignored it. Like how she’ll continue to ignore everything else.

“Did you call him Jack?” Cleo questioned, turning around to finally look at Joan. “Yeah. I did. He says he gets tired of being compared to someone else, so he wanted to change it up a little. He called me ‘Jo’, which was weird but I think he’s just trying things out-“

“Oh wow, you love to talk, don’t you?” Cleo cut her off, eyes focused on the purple hickey at the neck of Joan’s T-shirt. Well, JFK’s t-shirt. “Oh, I’m sorry.” Joan’s response was short. Cleo knew she had gone too far, but held onto her pride for a bit longer.

“Look, something happened tonight.” Cleo bit her lip, trying not to completely let every single detail about her and Abe’s fight slip from her lips. She was about to continue when she heard a knock on the glass window. The girls looked over to see JFK smiling, and continuing to tap louder and louder as every second passed.

Joan hopped off her bed and walked over to the window and opened it. “I’m sorry to er uh, bother but I just couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you, Jo.” JFK smiled at Joan, who responded with a soft smile. “You could’ve called. “Jo” and I were talking.” Cleo interrupted, jealousy rising in her chest.

“To be honest, it was just me talking.” Joan laughed, but even Cleo knew Joan was just using her words against her. “Is it cool if I leave for a little?” Joan asked, looking at Cleo for a response. “I don’t care. Don’t come back, see if I care.” Cleo’s words were like venom to Joan, but the way that JFK looked at her was her antidote. He helped her out the window, and once they were together, JFK peppered Joan in kisses. Each kiss stung Cleo a little bit more, but she figured it was for the best that she repressed it.

The moment the two “lovebirds” were in JFK’s car, Cleo slammed the window closed. ‘Why was she letting this get to her?’ She thought, her mind going a mile a minute. ‘She had her Abe. Her Abe.’ Cleo ran her fingers through her hair and felt a hot tear slip onto her cheek. She knew that Abe didn’t want her anymore.

Cleo looked at herself in the mirror and felt disgusted. What was wrong with her that neither JFK or Abe wanted her? She was nothing like the original Cleopatra. Everyone wanted her, and here was Cleo, this ugly good for nothing stuck up bitch who wasn’t good enough for anything. Eventually she couldn’t stand looking at herself in the mirror. Cleo studied her reflection, and then looked at her hand.

She punched the glass and watched the glass shatter around her room. It burned like hell, and she felt like glass was sprinkled everywhere in her body, but for some reason it felt good. Cleo’s eye was caught on the large piece of glass that sat atop her makeup table, and she picked it up to look at it. The pain from the piece of glass was starting to fade, so she considered taking the piece of sharp glass and inserting it anywhere in her body.

Cleo knew this wasn’t who she was. She wasn’t some sad loser who sat in her room and cried and broke things. She should be at a party right now, or f*cking JFK in his car right now. Not Joan. Cleo continued to stare at the large piece of glass, but her gaze was cut off by banging against the window. She looked over to see Abe frantically hitting the window, obviously in distress after seeing Cleo covered in blood and glass.

Cleo couldn’t move even if she wanted to, so she just gestured that the window was open and Abe tried to open it up from the outside. “Jesus Christ, Cleo. What the hell did you do?” Abe exclaimed, terror lacing his voice. “I don’t know.” Cleo choked a sob. “It all happened so fast.” Her voice didn’t change pitch. She felt like her words sounded like static.

Abe flung himself in the window, and ran over to aid Cleo’s wounds. He reached under her bed and grabbed the first aid kit. “What are you doing here.” Cleo’s voice still had no emotion, so her question came off more as a statement. “I just needed to see you. I think some things were said tonight that we both didn’t mean and-“ Cleo felt her head become light. It could’ve been the loss of blood or overwhelming stress of everything, but she knew she was about to fade out of consciousness.

“Cleo? Cleo?” Abe cupped his hands around Cleo’s flushed face and felt anxiety fill his chest. The last thing that Cleo remembers is going limp in Abe’s arms.

—————————

Cleo fiddled with the gauze wrapped around her right hand at her desk. She felt like a freak with bandages on her arms and legs, but she knew she did it to herself. It had been a week since her meltdown, and Cleo hadn’t even brought it up to Joan. She just said her and Abe got into a minor car accident where the window broke, but from the facial expressions Joan made, Cleo knew that Joan didn’t believe her.

It was Cleo’s final class of the week, and she couldn’t wait for it to be over. She just wanted to climb in bed and close her eyes, and hopefully never open them again. Abe had barely spoken to her since the incident, but it’s not like she really wanted to either. Abe calling her Joan was still eating her alive, and she just wanted to tell Joan but knew it would backfire somehow. Silence was just the easier option for the moment.

Cleo’s mental silence was broken by the bright buzz of the final bell, and she threw her books into her bag before promptly exiting the classroom. On her walk back to her locker, Cleo saw Joan, Gandhi and JFK messing around outside Joan’s locker. Gandhi had a CD he was pursuing to give to JFK but was blocked every time he tried to slide it into his bag. “Listen, we’ll just make, uh, something new this weekend.” Cleo eavesdropped on the trio, trying to remain as unsuspecting as she could.

“But that thing is, er uh, really bad. Like freaky bad.” JFK laughed, wrapping his arm around Joan. “Jo will be our manager. We can drop some, er uh, sick ass beats.” Joan reached up to kiss JFK on the cheek, but he caught her too quick and laid a soft kiss on her lips. Cleo watched Joan’s cheeks light up that soft pink they’ve been all week, and felt sick to her stomach. Joan really went soft, and Cleo couldn’t believe it was for JFK.

“Are you done stalking them for the week?” Cleo’s heart stopped, but she let out a sigh of relief to see it was only Abe behind her. “Do you think I’m off on weekends? And no, I’m not stalking them. I’m just listening in. They’re being loud enough.” Cleo tried to hide her embarrassment, but Abe caught it. “Look, I don’t know where we are as a relationship but I can tell you miss JFK. And I don’t feel as bad because I-“ Abe paused for a moment, and mournfully looked across the hallway.

“I can’t stop thinking about Joan.” Abe’s voice sounded desperate, but Cleo couldn’t blame him. Joan and JFK were the hottest couple at Clone High right now, and Cleo would kill to be in that spotlight again. “I think we’re both in a corner here. They’re both taken, and we just have to get over it.” Abe mumbled, staring straight at the floor.

Cleo couldn’t stand his defeated expression. Her mind searched from idea to idea, until she felt a mental lightbulb appear above her head. “Wait, I have an idea!” She exclaimed. “Okay, so we can keep “dating” right, but we can either be one of those super obnoxious couples and-“ “That’s what we’re already doing, though.” Abe instantly cut her off. “We’re already together, and they haven’t even batted an eye. They’re too busy kissing between classes and all that... gross sh*t.”

Cleo ignored the fact that’s exactly what she and Abe used to do. But even before that, it was what she and JFK used to do. “You know, Joan hasn’t been home week. I can cry to her and say I have something important to tell her, and we’ll have a girls night or something. I’ll imply that we’re on the verge of breaking up, and I’m sure she’s still in love with you, so boom. She leaves JFK and he’s mine.” Cleo announced as Abe shushed her. “They’re right over there. But I agree with you. I’ll try to get JFK to hang out with me, and I’ll say how you talk about him all the time, and maybe he’ll realize that he wants you!”

Cleo and Abe glared at the budding new couple, eyes full of desire. “I’m just hoping it works out. What if this is one of those like, rom-com situations that don’t work out?” Abe questioned, voice lingering with worry. “Come on, Abe. We’re better than any of those ugly people in those stupid movies. I think this’ll be easier than we thought.” Cleo held her pride close to her chest and began to walk over to Joan’s locker.

“Hey, girl!” Cleo snarled, voice oozing in fake joy. She studied Joan’s outfit, which consisted of JFK’s orange “clone state” jumper. JFK would always let Cleo wear that sweater when she stayed over or was cold at football games. For some reason she felt like it looked better on Joan, the sleeves too big for her and the body swallowing her figure. “Oh, hi Cleo.” Joan softly smiled, moving closer into JFK. “I feel like I haven’t seen you around recently. Where have you been?” Cleo asked, leaning up against the locker. “Oh, just been doing homework at Jack’s during the week.” Joan awkwardly responded, tensing up.

“Oh, that’s probably why you’ve been coming home so late.” Cleo laughed, moving in closer to the couple. “Whaddya want Cleo?” JFK asked, holding Joan a little tighter. “I was just hoping that Joan and I could have a girl’s night tonight. I miss hanging out with her.” Cleo teased, causing JFK and Joan to look at each other. “Sorry. I er uh, made dinner reservations tonight and I don’t think we can reschedule.” JFK boasted as Joan bit her lip. “Yeah, sorry Cleo. But tomorrow night 100%. We can rent a movie or something.”

Cleo’s heart dropped. “Okay, sure. Tomorrow night 100%.” Cleo answered, voice wavering. Joan waved with her free hand as JFK led her away with the other. Cleo put her face in her bandaged hands, and leaned her back against the locker. “I told you that wouldn’t work.” Abe laughed, standing next to Cleo. Cleo slapped him in the face, hand instantly burning in regret. “I was gonna say I have another idea!” Abe blurted, rubbing at the red brightening his cheeks.

“What if we just followed them?” Abe began, grabbing Cleo’s hand and wrapping the bandage tighter. “What?” Cleo asked, confused. “What if we just like, followed them? On their date? Tried to see their rights and wrongs, and then take advantage of that?” Cleo was amused at Abe’s insane idea. “You know what, we can take that and run with it. Sounds like a good starter plan.” Cleo mumbled, the thought of Joan wearing JFK’s jumper lingering in her mind.

She was Cleopatra, how hard could it be to ruin one stupid relationship?

Chapter 2: watch as she stands with her holding your hand

Chapter Text

“Cleo, I think we might be in the wrong spot.”

Abe mumbled, earning a groan from Cleo. The duo sat together in the Grassy Knoll parking lot, slowly awaiting for the arrival of Joan and JFK. “This was the only place where JFK took me on dates. There’s no other place they could possibly be going.” Cleo’s voice wavered as she anxiously tapped at the dashboard.

“JFK did say he was making reservations somewhere, so I think they might be in town.” Abe tried to study the parking lot for JFK’s car, but he didn’t see it. “I thought he was just being a pretentious asshole.” Cleo scoffed, pulling at the end of her hair. “Okay, listen. We’ll wait a few minutes, and if not we’ll just call it a night. Then we can just continue with the original girls night plan.” Abe tried to calm Cleo down, but didn’t even know why she was getting so upset.

Abe looked outside the car to see Gandhi skittering across the parking lot, and an idea popped into his head. “Hey Gandhi!” Abe screamed out the window, causing Cleo to lower her head. “You’re joking.” She muttered, putting her face in her bandaged palms. “Ayo, my guy!” Gandhi announced before sliding in through the cracked window in the backseat.

“Oooh, date night! Am I interrupting?” Gandhi peered his head into the front seat, earning a gag from Cleo. “I called you over, so you’re obviously not- you know what whatever.” Abe muttered, rubbing at his temples. “Speaking of date night,” He continued. “Do you know where JFK and Joan went?”

Gandhi shot Abe a confused look. “Did Joan not tell you?” Gandhi asked, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “Obviously not, you clown.” Cleo blurted, earning a wide eyed glare from Abe. “She doesn’t mean that.” Abe laughed as Cleo rolled her eyes. She didn’t need him to speak for her.

“I feel uncomfortable telling you guys where they are if Joan didn’t already tell you.” Gandhi mumbled, causing Abe and Cleo to look at each other. “I’ll give you $20.” Abe rolled his eyes, taking out his wallet. “Ooh, okay!” Gandhi squealed. “They’re at the Roseview in town.” Cleo’s eyes widened. “Holy sh*t. It’s like, $100 a seat there. JFK always said how bad he wanted to go there.”

Her stomach felt uneasy with jealousy. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure they’re reservation was like 20 minutes ago if you still wanna meet up with them.” Cleo laughed at Gandhi’s comment. ‘Meet up with them.’ Like she would ever want to go on a double date with them. “Okay, so are you coming or staying?” Abe looked to Gandhi, who was ready to climb back out the window.

“Nah, I got a date with Marie and you covered us tonight, Lincoln my boy.” Gandhi sniffed the 20 dollar bill, and climbed out through the window. “The car has doors. You know that right?” Abe laughed, noticing he was too late as Gandhi was already inside the diner.

“He’s so weird.” Cleo growled, crossing her arms. “He’s a good guy. Plus, he helped our night become a little bit easier.” Abe argued, pulling out of the parking spot they were waiting in. “Anyways, where’s the Roseview?” He asked as Cleo felt her cheeks heat up red. “It’s on Madden.” Abe’s eyes widened.

“Holy sh*t. Isn’t that like, next to that ballroom that’s not attached to any food factory?” He questioned as Cleo nodded. “Yup. I’m just in shock that he would take her there before me.” Cleo pondered, staring out the car window. “You know, you left him. I don’t know why you’re acting like he left you.”

Cleo was taken aback by Abe’s comment. “I left him for you. That was already my first mistake.” Cleo knew her words stung him like venom. “Look, I should’ve listened to Joan. She could’ve been mine, but for some reason I was blind.” Abe’s voice sounded hurt, and for some reason it made Cleo feel… bad?

“We both messed up.” Cleo sighed, eyes still focused outside the window. “We need to stop mourning our mistakes and make a change. We’re smart, Abe. It can’t be that hard to win them back.” Cleo knew how childish she sounded. ‘Win them back?’ What really was her end goal here? To make Joan miserable?

The rest of the ride was silent until they reached Madden street, and pulled right in front of the Roseview. Abe parked in the small lot across the street, as Cleo awkwardly waited outside the restaurant. Everyone walking in and out was dressed to the 9’s, and Cleo felt left out dressed in her normal clothes. She felt like… a poor person.

She didn’t even want to get started on Abe.

He eventually came rushing over, and they walked into the restaurant together. The whole dining room was dimly lit with soft candles, and the ceiling was draped in fake vines. The restaurant smelled like fresh wine and marinara, and it was nice and warm. This is somewhere Cleo deserved to be taken out to dinner, not some fluorescently lit diner with specials that included salmonella.

Cleo’s eyes darted around the restaurant, and eventually landed on the table in the corner. JFK and Joan sat together, giggling and smiling. They were both dressed so eloquently, and the way the light beamed on JFK’s face reminded Cleo that this is what her goal was.

He was her goal.

“Look, there they are!” Abe whisper-shouted, as Cleo shushed him. “Be quiet! Let’s just try to get a table and keep this ‘stalking’ thing as quiet as possible.” While Abe walked up to the hostess, Cleo couldn’t help but keep looking at Joan and JFK. She watched as JFK handed Joan a little box, and Cleo wanted to die as she watched Joan’s smile light up when she opened the box.

Cleo continued to stare as JFK stood up and latched the necklace around Joan’s neck, and laid a kiss on her head. Cleo could hear their conversation. ‘Oh JFK, you didn’t have to!’ She mocked Joan’s voice in her head. ‘Oh, I er uh, am just creating this elaborate plan to er uh, get in your pants, Jo.’ Cleo scowled at the accuracy. She was so smart.

“Cleo, they have no reservations for the next two months. We’re gonna have to wait in the car until they’re done.” Abe grabbed Cleo’s hand to lead her out, but she abruptly pulled away. “Do these people know who I am!” Cleo exclaimed, voice raising in anger. “I am Cleo f*cking Patra!” She screeched, earning looks from all around the restaurant.

Luckily she gained attention from Joan and JFK.

“I don’t know who these peasants think they are but-“ Cleo was cut off by Joan. “What are you guys doing here?” She asked, JFK following behind her. “Oh, hi guys! Didn’t know you’d be here!” Cleo lied through her teeth. “Yeah, we could say the same about you two.” Joan joked. Cleo hated that ‘we’ was a new word Joan added in her vocabulary. She said it constantly referring to her and JFK, like who even cares? “Yeah, we were just about to go.” Abe cut Cleo’s internal monologue off. Cleo was so disappointed she was about to admit defeat.

“I mean we’re sitting at four top, if you just want to sit with us?” Joan asked as JFK’s mouth dropped. “Really?” Cleo, JFK and Abe simultaneously questioned. “I mean, why not? I’m sure the server will be okay with it.” Joan looked to JFK, who’s expression had changed from happy to frustrated. “I don’t think so. I know, uh, people who work in the business, Jo. They, they hate it when guests bring more people.” JFK remarked, trying to coax Joan back to the table. “Come on, Jack. It’ll be like, a cute double date.” Joan rubbed at JFK’s bicep.”Yeah, cute.” JFK muttered, pulling away from Joan and walking back to the table.

“This is super weird.” Abe whispered to Cleo, who nodded. “I personally could not tell you what got into Joan. Maybe she’s dying or something.” Cleo returned. Instead of across from each other like before, JFK and Joan sat next to each other. “Did you guys order already?” Abe asked as Joan shook her head. “Nah, we just got here. The server still hasn’t come back with our drinks though.”

Cleo questioned why Gandhi said their reservation was earlier. She didn’t want to ask without revealing her and Abe’s “destruction” scheme. “I love your necklace, Joan. Where did you get it?” Cleo reached across the table and touched the gold locket. “Oh, JFK just gave it to me.” Joan popped open the locket to show the picture of Joan with JFK’s arms wrapped around her. He was kissing her cheek as well, and Cleo was holding back from yanking the whole necklace off Joan’s neck.

“Oh, cute. A little one week gift?” Cleo mocked. “Actually, JFK just asked me to be his girlfriend. So technically it’s a little 10 minute gift, right?” Joan looked to JFK, who uncomfortably pushed against the wall. “I have to er, go to the restroom.” JFK announced, standing up from the table and knocking over one of the empty wine glasses. “Ok, great. Thank you for sharing with the table.” Joan muttered, awkwardly leaning back into the chair.

“Jo, you should come.” JFK blurted. “No. Why?” Joan crossed her arms, and gazed at JFK in conclusion. JFK looked to Cleo and Abe, and then back to Joan. “I er, need help. Just come with me, Uh, please.” Joan laughed at JFK’s awkwardly phrased comment. “I’m sure you don’t need help. You’re spending more time talking about it than-” “No, Joan. I promise I need help. Just, er, come with me. Now. Please.” JFK interrupted, grabbing Joan’s arm. “Ok, sure fine whatever. Be right back guys!”Joan rolled her eyes, and began following JFK to the back of the restaurant.

“Do you really think he needs help?” Abe asked, looking back at the couple. “No, you moron. They’re probably going to have sex or something. Or they ordered a bunch of food, and they’re sticking us with the bill.” Cleo muttered, defeated. “This is going to end poorly with whatever outcome anyways. I don’t even know why we’re bothering.” Cleo continued, playing with the loose bandage on her hand. “Okay, if you said that in the grassy knoll parking lot, I would’ve completely been okay with that and we would’ve dropped it. We are way too far in now to drop out.” Abe panicked, running his fingers through his hair.

Meanwhile, JFK was dragging Joan through the restaurant. “Do you really need my help?” Joan asked, earning a groan from JFK. “Of course not. We have to talk. Uh, now.” JFK pulled Joan in the private bathroom, and locked the door behind them. “Okay, so I’ll er, lift ya out the window. And then you can pull my car around, and I’ll just uh, either follow you through the window or use some uh, ninja type skills to escape through the front.” JFK babbled, looking to the small window above the toilet.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Joan asked, rubbing at her temples. JFK looked at Joan, and then looked at the window. “Fine, you can help boost me up and then uh, I’ll pull the car around.” JFK walked over the toilet, stood on top of it, and tried to pop open the window. “This is tougher than I thought.” JFK muttered, tapping at the glass. “Get down from there! You said we had to talk, not reenact the plot of ocean’s 11!” Joan screamed, but not too loud to gain any attention from the outsiders of the restaurant. “You, my dear, have obviously never seen that film. But why’d ya have to invite ‘em over?” JFK rambled, continuing to try and pop open the window.

“Ah, okay. That’s what this is about.” Joan sighed, leaning against the sink. “Please get down and we can talk about this.” Joan watched as JFK gave the window one last look. “Okay, one more thing.” JFK pulled his arm back and gave the window a hard punch. The glass only gained one small crack, but it was big enough to cause JFK’s knuckle to bleed. “Are you crazy?” Joan exclaimed, immediately tensing up. “Are these bulletproof or somethin’?” JFK howled, holding his bleeding and bruising hand in the other. “I can break anything!”

Joan unrolled what felt like a whole roll of toilet paper and began to wrap it around JFK’s hand. “Obviously not.” Joan laughed, earning a sad look from JFK. “Jack, we have to talk about this. Why are you freaking out so much?” Joan coaxed, aiding to JFK’s wound. “I er, don’t know. This was our first real date, Jo. I wanted it to just be us.” Joan frowned at JFK’s saddened expression. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you saw it like that.” Joan cupped her hand around JFK’s cheek, and gave him a soft kiss on the forehead. “I just wanted it to be special. And Abe and Cleo make me, uh super uncomfortable.” JFK laughed, hurt still lingering in his voice.

“I promise this is the only time this’ll happen. We can get through dinner, and we can still go to that drive in movie afterwards. Just you and me. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” Joan teased, kissing JFK. “Okay, I uh, forgive you. I don’t know how I could ever be angry at my Jo.” He smiled at her, and Joan felt her insides melt. Even she had to admit that she softened up ever since she started talking to JFK, but it was a good soft. He makes her feel like no one else has never had.

“So you promise me Jo, at the movie it’ll just be er, me and you?” Joan nodded at JFK. “On my life. We just gotta get through this dinner together, okay?” Joan held JFK’s hand, but unlatched when she noticed he winced due to the pressure from his cut hand. “Together. Me and er, my Jo.” JFK shot her another honey-coated smile.

His Jo.

Chapter 3: but how could I hate her? she's such an angel

Chapter Text

“Why are they going to the middle of nowhere?”

Cleo and Abe were following JFK’s van, but from a far enough distance so it wouldn’t be suspicious. “I could not tell you.” Cleo responded, biting her lip. “Hopefully they don’t merge off anywhere, because I don’t know how I’ll explain why we’re following them.” She continued, feeling blood from her lip pool in her mouth.

“I mean, dinner could’ve gone worse.” Abe laughed, looking toward Cleo for a response. She was miserable. She had to watch Joan and JFK sit next to each other, and bat lovey eyes at each other. Cleo gagged every time they shared the same fork, and felt even worse watching them share dessert. The jealousy rising in her body was growing by the minute, but she decided she would just have to ignore it. Like how she ignored JFK’s bloodied knuckle.

“Yeah. But the thing is, they still think we’re together.” Cleo muttered, staring blankly out the window. “See, I had an idea about that.” Abe smiled, merging off to the exit JFK and Joan just went on. “We can run into them wherever they’re going, and boom. We just fight the whole time.” Cleo felt a smile grow at her lips.

“You know what Lincoln, that’s a good one. Not only ruin their night, but whatever sh*tty first date continuation they have planned.” Cleo snarled, starting to feel better. She looked at Abe, his figure being lit up by the street lights.

He wasn’t too bad.

But Cleo was positive she wanted someone better.

—

“I hate them.” JFK growled, angrily pulling off the exit. “Jacky, I think you’re getting way too upset.” Joan sighed, slipping off her dress in the passenger seat. “No, they had no right to be at that restaurant. Somethin’ fishy’s goin’ on here, Jo. I uh, just can’t put my er, finger on it.” JFK scoffed, face turning red with anger.

“Hey. You’re getting way too worked up. Tonight is our night, right? Don’t let us bumping into them ruin our plans, right?” Joan pulled JFK’s ‘clone high’ sweatshirt over her head, and slid on a pair of his sweatpants. “Can we cuddle?” JFK asked, earning a mental ‘aw’ from Joan. “Of course we can. It’s our night.”

JFK pulled into the drive-in movie lot. “I’m very surprised you’re not uh, super high anxiety about running into Cleo. I was positive you’d be freaking out.” JFK laughed, as Joan shrugged. “I don’t know. I just feel way calmer than usual.” Joan smiled, cheeks lighting up a soft pink. “You think it’s ‘cause of me?” JFK teased.

Joan bit her lip so she didn’t shout yes. “You think you have that much power over me, Kennedy?” Joan giggled. “Well, let me know ya this, Jo. I know the kind of power I got over you.” JFK muttered, biting his lip at Joan. “Ugh, you’re so annoying.” Joan laughed, opening the car door. “I’m not even completely in the spot yet!”

Joan jumped out of the car, ignoring JFK’s comment. “You’re terrible at parking.” Joan watched JFK struggle to pull into the empty spot, getting extremely close to the car next to him. “Do you want me to park?” Joan asked, looking around to see some people were laughing. Joan watched JFK’s cheeks burn a light crimson. “You’re making me look like a bozo, Jo. I can do it.” He confidently huffed, earning an eye roll from Joan.

There were other cars trying to pull by, honking and yelling at JFK to get out of the middle of the aisle. “Jesus Christ, I have to do everything.” Joan muttered, walking over to the driver side door. “Get out of the car, Jack.” Joan whispered, trying not to make a scene. “Fine, whatever. I wanna see ya do this in one, uh, try, Jo.” JFK shot Joan a nasty glare, making Joan’s heart drop.

She sat in the driver’s seat, which was pushed all the way back and smelled of JFK’s cologne. Joan took a deep breath, and focused solely on backing into the spot. And to JFK’s surprise, she backed in on the first try. A roar of “finally”’s and “thank god”’s filled the lot, and Joan ran her fingers through her hair. “That’s my girl!” JFK giggled, reaching for Joan’s hand to pull her out of the deep hole his driver seat was. Joan’s eyes widened in bewilderment.

“You- you aren’t mad?” Joan asked as JFK pulled her into a hug, and perched a kiss on the top of her head. “Of course not! I was just teasin’ ya, babe. I uh, would never be mad at you for somethin’ so silly!” He laughed, as Joan nuzzled her face into his sweater. “Okay, I was scared for a second.” She mumbled, embarrassed. Abe would always be mad at her for solving problems he was supposed to, and Joan just figured everyone was like that.

She was glad JFK wasn’t.

“I never want you to be scared, baby.” He whispered, kissing her on the head again. Joan felt warm in his grip, and wanted this soft moment between them to last forever. She looked up for a second to see all the other cars in front of them were facing forward, and she looked up to JFK. “Hey, all of the other cars are facing forward. Why did you make us back in?” Joan watched JFK’s face light up. “Oh, because I got somethin’ to uh, show ya.”

“You know I would never, er, take this sh*tty van on a fancy date for no reason. Look at this, doll.” JFK popped open the two back doors of the vans to show Joan a bunch of blankets, pillows and what looked like $100 worth of snacks littered across the floor. “Jesus, you went all out.” Joan laughed as JFK shrugged. “Anything for my Jo. Also, look at this.” JFK reached over to the right hand corner of the car and flicked a switch. A string of fairy lights lit up the van, but the LED wasn’t a gross bright. It was soft, light blue and the hue lit up all of the soft features of JFK’s face. Joan felt herself melt.

“I spent a couple hours doin’ this last night after you uh, left. I wanted our first date to be perfect. As uh, as perfect as you.” JFK blushed, as Joan playfully punched him in the chest. “Ugh, you’re such a loser.” Joan joked as JFK frowned. “That’s all ya gotta say?” He gave Joan big puppy dog eyes. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. I love it.” Joan wrapped her arms around him, and continued to let herself be consumed in a soft hug.

Across the aisle, Cleo was bartering with Van Gogh as to why she should be in that spot. “Listen, I bought this ticket two weeks ago. Casablanca is my favorite film, and there’s no way you’re taking this spot from me, Cleopatra.” Van Gogh fumed, ignoring her plea. “Shh! Keep it down.” Cleo shushed him. “Listen, I’ll pay you. I’ll make you popular. I’ll get you a girlfriend, a boyfriend for all I care! Just please, let Abe and I take this spot.” Cleo begged, being quiet enough neither JFK and Joan would pick up her voice.

“Okay, I guess I need more acrylic paint anyways.” Van Gogh mumbled, as his eyes wandered to JFK’s van. “But if they aren’t in my locker Monday morning, I will do to you exactly what I did to Gandhi. All of Clone High will know about your little stalker date.” Van Gogh threatened as Cleo thoroughly nodded. “I will not let you down. Monday morning, swear on my life.” Cleo smiled as Van Gogh rolled his eyes. “Go f*ck yourself.”

Cleo excitedly texted Abe that she secured the spot, and watched Van Gogh slowly back out. Cleo still had no clue what she was doing. Sure, she was a bitch. But she was never as conniving as she was this week, bribing art kids with $100 paint sets. Cleo felt like she hated herself. But knowing herself, she was too vain to hate herself. Cleo knew she was beautiful, and had everything she needed, but she thinks her root of hatred is coming from Joan. She hates Joan for taking her JFK.

And Cleo hated herself for letting that happen.

Abe pulled into the spot, and Cleo hopped into the passenger seat. “Nice!” Abe tried to high five Cleo, but then she just held out her gauzed hand. “We owe that freak an art kit. Acrylic? I think that’s for nails or something?” She shrugged as Abe groaned. “It’s not- whatever. I’ll get it for him.” The two sat in silence for a moment. “So, are you ready to crash this date a little bit more?” Abe shot Cleo a soft small and she returned the favor. “More than ever.”

She took a deep breath, and opened the door. Abe waited for her to walk over first, and she was turned off by his cowardice. “Loser.” She muttered, walking over to the back of JFK’s van. The van was big enough for them to not see her walk over, so she paused to eavesdrop on their conversation. “What’s a ‘cast o blanc ca?’” JFK asked, earning a giggle from Joan. “It’s Casablanca, babe. You picked this part of the date, I’m surprised you don’t know the movie.”

Cleo heard Joan giggle at JFK’s ‘I just wanted to spend more time with you’ response. She gagged, and was interrupted by Abe tapping her shoulder. “You good?” He asked as Cleo quickly nodded. “Yup. Let’s go.” When she turned the corner of the van, Cleo was greeted with Joan in JFK’s lap, him playing with Joan’s new locket. “Oh my god, hi guys!” She announced, watching the color drain from both Joan and JFK’s face.

“What the f*ck are ya doing here?” JFK growled, his expression growing angrier as he watched Abe follow right behind Cleo. “We bought tickets for this two weeks ago. Abe loves Casablanca, don’t you, Abe?” Cleo remarked, smiling at JFK. “It’s my favorite.” Abe laughed, wrapping his arm around Cleo. “You guys need to go the f*ck away.” JFK snarled as Joan cupped his cheek. “Hey, calm down.” She coaxed, but JFK only moved her out of his lap. “I am calm. I am uh, so calm! I look calm, Joan.”

Cleo watched Joan’s expression fade. That was probably the first time JFK didn’t call her ‘Jo’ in a week. Cleo was already winning. “Give us a second guys, I’m sorry.” Joan apologized, waiting for Abe and Cleo to walk away. When they just watched her, she reached out and closed both of the van doors. “What the f*ck are they, uh, doing here?” JFK growled, as Joan softly ran her fingers through his hair. “Deep breaths, Jacky.” She whispered, hearing his breathing speed up a little.

“You promised.” JFK whined, earning a confused look from Joan. “What?” She laughed, moving away from him. “You promised it was just us. Are you uh,-” JFK paused. “Involved, Joan?” He asked, voice strict. Joan felt her heart twist. “What?” She responded, tears filling her eyes. “I just think it’s uh, weird they’re just showing up at the same places we are, and you aren’t phased. It uh, isn’t like you.” JFK implied, shrugging. “You think I set this up? You think I’m trying to f*cking ruin our date?” Joan fumed, tears beginning to slip out her eyes.

JFK looked up and his expression immediately changed. “Oh no, Jo. Please don’t cry. I’m sorry.” He reached out to touch and Joan fiercely pulled away. “Don’t f*cking “Jo” me! Why would you think that? I finally tear my f*cking guard down and see the best in the things, and it’s “not like me”?!” She screamed, as JFK rubbed at his temples. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. It’s just Cleo. She’s just a really sh*t person, Jo. I don’t like her, and I especially don’t like her near you. I don’t want her to hurt you.” He uttered, trying to reach out for Joan’s hand.

“You already hurt me.” Joan whispered, more tears flooding down her cheeks. “Jo, please don’t say that. I’m sorry. I really really am.” JFK’s voice cracked, and Joan looked to see the tears beading in his eyes. “I want to make you feel safe. I want to be there for you. Jo, it’s only been a week but I seriously am er uh, a chump for you. I’d do anything for you, I promise.” He told her, finally getting close enough to wipe the tears from her eyes.

Joan was silent, heart still resting in the bottom of her chest. “I just get super anxious, and my head uh, always goes to the worst thought. I, uh, know you’d never hurt me. And I am so angry that I uh, hurt you already.” Joan looked up at him with tear stained eyes and let out another sob. JFK wrapped his arms around her, and she continued to sob into his chest. She didn’t even know why she was crying anymore, but it felt good to have someone there.

JFK mumbled sweet nothings to her, kissing her head a couple of times. “Oh my Jo.” He sang, causing Joan to giggle into his sweater. “Please don’t cry, because I am a big idiot asshole.” He continued, as Joan finally unraveled herself from him. “That doesn’t even rhyme.” She laughed as JFK shrugged. “I thought it was pretty good.” JFK gave her a soft smile, and Joan hugged him one more time. “I forgive you, you big idiot asshole.” She smiled. “I am, uh, very glad. I was uh, about to start cryin’ there.” JFK fake wiped a tear from his eye. “You totally did cry.”

JFK gasped. “I did not!” Joan mocked him, and then reached down to hold his hand. But when she touched the ground, she noticed it was soaking wet. Joan looked down to see blood all over JFK’s hand and the rug on the bottom of the van. “sh*t, Jack! You must’ve hit your hand on something!” Joan exclaimed as JFK’s slowly looked down at his hand. “Oh wow. That uh, doesn’t look too good.” He laughed. “This isn’t funny! Do you have a rag or something anywhere?” Joan frantically asked.

“There uh, should be a coupla’ sport’s towels near the back of the seats.” JFK nonchalantly told Joan, who basically dove across the van to get a towel. “We really have a lot of problems, don’t we?” JFK joked, earning a sigh from Joan. “Sadly.” She mumbled, grabbing two (hopefully clean) towels. “sh*t, what’re we uh, gonna do about those two jerkos outside?” JFK asked as Joan bit her lip. “Well, we could tell them to get the f*ck away from us.” She chuckled, wrapping JFK’s hand. “Or we can just let them join us and we can brag about our insanely incredible relationship.” She continued.

“I like the first idea, but I uh, do wanna brag. I like to brag.” JFK added as Joan nodded. “I know, don’t worry. I feel better just… not knowing why they ended up at the same places we did tonight. Ignorant bliss.” Joan tied one final not on the towel around JFK’s knuckle. “That is fine with me. Ready to watch ‘Castoblanco’?” JFK asked, smiling at Joan. “Of course.” Before she opened the doors back up, JFK pulled her back down to the ground.

“Can you kiss it?” He asked, voice meek. “Aren’t you constantly getting the sh*t beat out of you? I feel like you should be accustomed to pain.” JFK’s cheeks turned pink. “I am the one who beats people up. Fear me, Jo.” He fake growled at her and rolled her eyes. “But seriously, please kiss it.” Joan mentally awed and laid a small kiss on his towel wrapped hand. “Are you happy?” She asked as he smiled.

“More than happy.”

Chapter 4: put your arm 'round her shoulder, now i'm getting colder

Chapter Text

The yelling behind the doors of the van had faded out. Cleo looked to Abe with a smile. “We did it! And with barely scheming at all.” She smiled, reaching her hand for a high five. Well, with her . good hand. “I’m proud of us.” Abe laughed, leaning against the doors of the van. “I bet they’re breaking up right now. Didn’t last too long, right?” Cleo boasted, pride radiating off her.

Suddenly the van door popped open, pushing Abe to the ground. Cleo expected Joan to run away crying, but she was still perched in JFK’s lap. “Sorry, Jack cut his hand open. It freaked me out a little.” Joan laughed, giving JFK a loving gaze. Cleo’s heart shifted right back to the bottom of her stomach. She looked at Abe, who’s smile had faded.

“I would be freaked out too.” Abe growled, finally looking back at Cleo. “So, you guys can come chill with us tonight? If you want. We have snacks and pillows and everything.” Joan offered, playing with JFK’s good hand. Cleo watched their fingers combine, and eventually intertwine. “You know what, I left something in Abe’s car. I’ll be right back.” Cleo swallowed a sob, trying not to lose it in front of the couple.

She rushed away, Abe following swiftly behind her. “What happened?” He asked, resting a hand on her back. “We failed.” Cleo cried, feeling the hot tears rush down her cheeks. “Come on, Cleo.” Abe groaned. “We should’ve been less naive and figured it wouldn’t be that easy.” He continued, removing his hand from Cleo’s back. She hated to admit that she appreciated the affection from Abe. She kind of--- missed it.

“Listen, we’re in. We got invited in the van.” Abe began, running his fingers through his hair. “We just gotta sabotage this. Like hardcore. We got this, don’t worry.” Abe tried to encourage Cleo, and tried to wipe the tears from her eyes. “Okay, let’s go back.” Cleo took a deep breath. “Before they, you know, think something is up.” She primped her hair in Abe’s car window, and made sure none of her mascara was dripping.

“I’m surprised JFK didn’t completely freak and make us leave.” Abe laughed as they walked back to the van. “He was a little on edge, but Joan seems to calm him down.” Abe continued, earning an eye roll from Cleo. “Joan seems weird too. She’s super like, empathetic and nice now.” Cleo gagged. “You know, maybe they’re good for each other.” Abe muttered, staring at the ground.

“You’re joking.” Cleo spat. They turned the corner back to the van to see Joan and JFK in the same position, except JFK was leaning against the side of the van, a pillow behind him. He whispered something in Joan’s ear, which caused her to giggle. “We’re back!” Cleo announced, causing Joan and JFK to look up at her.

The couple looked at each other, and then broke out in laughter. Cleo’s heart twisted. “What is wrong with you two?” Cleo snarled, awkwardly crossing her arms. “Uh, nothing.” JFK bit his lip to hide a giggle. Joan continued to laugh, and JFK squeezed her cheeks. “You’re a gigglebug tonight, aren’t cha?” He cooed, kissing her on the cheek.

The jealousy in Cleo’s chest began to rise, and Abe wrapped his arm around her. “Come on, let’s get in the van.” He whispered in her ear. “Let the chaos begin.” Cleo felt a smile grow on her lips, and she followed Abe into the van. “So, Jack.” Cleo started, staring down JFK. “How’s your first date going? Probably not as good as ours.” Cleo laughed, but earned no reaction from both Joan and JFK.

“It uh, would be way better if you and your boy toy weren’t er, interrupting us every fifteen seconds.” JFK hissed, causing Joan to playfully hit his chest. “He’s kidding!” Joan exclaimed. “Oh, babe. Always with the jokes.” The word babe oozed with honey, and the sound of it made Cleo nauseous. “I’m not kidding.” JFK mumbled, but Joan reached up and poked him in the cheek.

“Be nice.” She whispered, and he rolled his eyes. “When’s this movie even er, coming on? It’s like past nine.” JFK looked to the big screen that still read “the presentation will begin shortly.” He ran his fingers through Joan’s hair, who was obviously loving it. “Patience is key, Jacky.” She told him, adjusting herself in his lap.

“Abe, you never do anything like that.” Cleo growled, winking at Abe. “Well maybe instead of bitching about it, you could brush your hair so I can even run my fingers through it.” Cleo’s mouth dropped. “I’m sure you don’t even wash your hands. Who says I even want your dirty ass fingers anywhere near my precious locks?” Cleo inched further from Abe and closer to Joan and JFK.

“Are we interrupting something?” Joan asked, awkwardly pulling JFK’s hand around her waist. He held her tight, and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “I think you mean are WE interrupting anything.” Cleo snarled, gesturing JFK. “You were the ones who invited yourselves over.” JFK shot Abe a glare. “You invited us in though, asshole.” Abe growled. “What did you just call me?” JFK was about to push Joan off, but she shifted her weight to keep him on the ground.

“Chill out, Kennedy. He’s just kidding.” Joan coaxed, trying to make JFK didn’t tackle him. “He’s not though. And it’s uh, really pissin’ me off, Jo!” JFK whined, trying to get up. “You better stay on your ass or I’ll kill you.” Joan’s voice got completely serious, and JFK’s eyes widened. “You’re scary.” He uttered, leaning back down on the pillow behind him.

Joan looked at him with soft eyes. “Give me a kiss.” She smiled, and JFK returned the favor. He sweetly kissed her on the lips, and the anger that seemed to be taking over him disappeared. “Good boy. Take it easy, okay.” Joan held his arm close to her. Cleo was beyond frustrated at this point. “Abe, why don’t we dates like this more often? You’re such a sh*tty boyfriend.” Cleo ranted, looking for more reasons to loudly call Abe out.

She looked across the van to see that Joan and JFK weren’t even listening, but were instead whispering things to each other. Cleo was about to blurt out another rude comment, but cut off by the dinging of the movie’s sound system. “The feature presentation is about to begin.” It chimed, the stadium lights dimming. “Movie time!” JFK squealed, dimming the LED lights.

“Hey, Jo.” Cleo heard him whisper. “You never told me what ‘casperblanco’ was about.” Cleo rolled her eyes at his stupidity. “Well, it’s during world war two.” Joan began. “An american soldier falls in love with a czech woman, and tries to help her escape from her home country. He eventually helps some rebels overthrow the city of Casablanca’s dictator.”

JFK gave Joan a confused look. “Guy like girl during war, want to help her escape and guy fall for girl.” Joan explained simply and JFK nodded. “Oooo.” He nodded, obviously pretending that he understood. “I wish we could watch something else.” He giggled, causing Joan to aw. “Maybe tomorrow we can watch a better movie, okay?” Joan cooed, looking up to him.

“Hey Joan, I thought we were hanging out tomorrow?” Cleo interrupted. “Oh yeah! We can do uh, do whatever.” Joan smiled at Cleo, who was brooding over the fact that Joan was beginning to pick up JFK’s dialect. She was nearly positive she’d killed herself if she had to hear two people include ‘er’ and ‘uh’ in every sentence. Anything was possible, though.

“We can just have a girls night. Chat, catch up. I really have some important stuff to tell you-” Cleo began before being cut off by the loud booming of the credits. “Shh. Movie’s starting!” JFK shouted, earning a ‘be quiet!’ from one of the cars in front of them. “I’ll sock ya, you bozo!” JFK yelled. “You need to calm down, babe. You want some m&m’s?” Joan asked, holding the bag up to him. “Of course.”

Cleo looked to Abe in despair. They were running out of ideas. Maybe this wasn’t meant to be, she pondered. “Abe, I think this a mistake.” Cleo whispered, and Abe shook his head. “We are too far in, Cleo.” His eyes didn’t break from looking at Joan and JFK. “I want her so bad.” His voice sounded shaky.

Cleo understood his pain. The desperation in his voice was obvious, and Cleo for once in her life felt--- bad for him? She shook the thought out of her head. f*ck Abe. He probably understands how Joan felt now, constantly yearning for something she knew she’d never receive. All sympathy from Cleo disappeared in a brief moment.

Cleo heard the van rustle, as a figure appeared at the end of the van. “I didn’t know the movie was in 3D!” JFK laughed. Joan reached up to make the LED lights brighter, and the figure was revealed to be Gandhi. “You’re kidding.” Cleo muttered, rubbing at her temples. “Hey yo! This is like the third trunk I’ve jumped into!” Gandhi yelled, causing another “can you guys shut up?” from the car in front of them.

“I will seriously go over and kick their teeth in, I swear to god.” JFK snarled, and Joan shook her head. ‘Don’t you dare. Gandhi, keep it down.” Gandhi nodded, and hopped between the couples. He rummaged through one of the snack bags and pulled out a box of skittles. “What’re ya doing, here?” JFK asked as Gandhi popped some of the skittles into his mouth.

“Just went on one of my normal whacky, eccentric adventures. I just knew you guys would be here, so I wanted to hang with the gang.” He laughed, leaning onto one of the pillows. “Interesting. I thought you had a date tonight?” Joan asked as Gandhi sighed. “Marie had to leave early, she has a curfew or something. Also, Abe thanks for covering dinner by the way.”

Cleo’s heart dropped.

“Whaddya mean?” JFK asked, sitting up a little straighter. “Oh, earlier tonight I saw Abe and Cleo and-” He began, and was instantly interrupted by Abe. “After school we made a bet, and I lost that’s all.” Abe sighed a breath of relief, giving Gandhi an angry glare. “Weird.” JFK muttered, looking at Gandhi. “You uh, wouldn’t lie to me, right Gandhi?” JFK asked, and Gandhi fakely smiled.

“Never.”

Abe felt guilty, but Cleo didn’t. She needed to cover her tracks as much as she could. It would ruin her reputation if the school knew she was a desperate, needy attention whor*. That was supposed to be Joan. Or anyone else but Cleo. “Hey, Jo.” JFK whispered, and Joan sighed. “Yes, hon.” JFK looked at the screen, and then to Joan. “I don’t understand this movie.” Joan laughed at him. “What do you do when you don’t understand things?” Joan asked him, and he gave her a confused look. “Listen?” He questioned, and Joan nodded.

“Exactly. So just pay attention, and ask me if you don’t understand anything.” Joan offered. “Just like when we were reading great gatsby together?” JFK asked her. “Mhm.” Joan played with the sleeve of his sweater mindlessly, her eyes focused on the screen. “Hey Joan.” Cleo began, causing Joan’s eyes to break from the screen. “What’s up?” Annoyance lingered in Joan’s voice.

“What do you have in Mr. Sheepman’s class?” Cleo asked. “97. Why?” Joan’s voice still sounded aggravated. “Well I have a C- right now, and I was wondering if you could help me out? Tutor me or something?” Cleo asked, voice dripping in fake sincerity. “I mean, I just started tutoring JFK and Gandhi on Wednesday’s since Sheepman only gives tests on Thursday’s.” Joan responded, and JFK groaned.

“I don’t want her to come to study Wednesday’s!” He whisper-shouted, obviously loud enough for Cleo to hear. “We started at JFK’s so if you need help on next week’s quiz, just pop by. I read all the books we’re reading in middle school, so it’s just busy work for me.” Joan boasted, pushing her hair behind her ear.

“You’re awfully quiet, Gandhi.” JFK laughed, only earning a shrug from Gandhi. “Sorry, I’m kinda going to town on these skittles right now.” He flatly responded. Cleo and Abe knew he felt guilty about lying to JFK. It’s a kill eat kill world, Cleo tried to convince herself. She was on the top of the food chain, and he was at least 20 ecosystems below her. He just did what he had to do.

The group sat in silence for a while, Cleo trying to find another reason to bitch Abe out. The possibilities seemed endless, but for some reason her mind was blank. For once in her life, she had nothing to say.

Joan sat peacefully in JFK’s lap, until she felt a shiver go down her spine. “Aw, are you cold doll?” JFK pursed his lips together, and he wrapped her arms around her tighter. “The s-sweater should be thick enough.” Joan tried to ignore her teeth chattering. “You poor thing. Sit up for a second.” JFK looked at the pile of blankets, and pulled out a soft light blue one. “Come here, baby.” He whispered, wrapping her in the soft material.

“Wait, this is the blanket I saw shoved in the bottom of the closet a couple days ago.” Joan sounded grossed out, and tried to unravel herself from the blanket. “I washed it, don’t worry. Smell it.” JFK tried to persuade her. Joan just sighed and sniffed it. It smelled like JFK’s sweater, and instinctively she pulled in closer to her. “I uh, was just embarrassed about it. It was like,my uh, my-” JFK stuttered.

“Aw, is it your ‘bwanky’?” Joan teased him, poking at his stomach. “Uh, no.” His cheeks lit up a soft pink, and he looked away from Joan. “Oh my god. It totally is!” She exclaimed, and JFK shushed her. “Okay, maybe. It was uh, kinda my comfort thing. One of my uh, dads gave it to me when I was sick one time, but I want you to keep it. It’ll keep you warmer anyways.” JFK’s cheeks were still a bright pink, but Joan just cuddled into his chest.

“You don’t have to do that.” Joan yawned, her eyes suddenly drooping. “I want to though, Jo. I can’t be there for you at all times, so I wanna give ya somethin’ that uh, can.” He kissed the top of her head. “Mhm. You’re the best, Jacky.” Joan tiredly mumbled into JFK’s chest. “Anything for my Jo.” Joan smiled into his chest. “I like when you say that.Your Jo.” Joan kissed his chest, and JFK just held her tighter. “Well, that’s who you are.”

Cleo felt bile rising in her throat. She retched in the middle of the van, causing everything to instantly perk up. “Hey! No puking in my van!” JFK yelled, and Joan instantly snapped out of her drowsy state. “Cleo, are you okay?” She asked, voice full of worry. Cleo’s only action was to rush to the edge of the van and spill her $100 dollar dinner all over the ground.

“Do I look f*cking okay?” She hissed, before letting out another gag. To be fair, she was just being overdramatic. The interactions between Joan and JFK were just too sweet and left a sour taste in her mouth. “Here, have some of this.” Abe handed her a water bottle, and he calmly patted her back. “f*cking disgusting.” JFK barked. Joan tiredly rubbed at her eyes, and leaned back into JFK’s chest. “Maybe we should call it a night.” JFK looked down at Joan, who was on the brink of falling asleep.

Gandhi had already blacked out, skittles still in his hand. “No, please. I didn’t mean to ruin this.” Cleo got back into the van, and tried to hold in the tears in her eyes. “You f*cking ruined it when you showed up.” JFK’s tone was flat, and for the first time in a while he made eye contact with Cleo. Cleo’s heart twisted at his sharp words, and bit her lip to refrain herself from breaking out into tears. “Jack, say sorry.” Joan sat back up, rubbing at her temples.

“Fine. Sorry.” His tone remained flat, but even Joan knew that was the best apology she was going to get out of him. “OKay, whatever. Can we just finish the movie out please?” Joan’s words were slightly slurred due to her exhaustion, but everyone silently agreed. “Holy sh*t, are you okay?” Abe whispered to Cleo, who just took another sip of the water.

“Food poisoning, probably.” Cleo shrugged. “We ate the same thing, and I feel completely fine.” Abe uttered, wrapping his arm around Cleo’s shoulder. For once, she didn’t push away. “I just, I-” Cleo began, voice wavering. “I couldn’t keep looking at them. He’s obviously falling for her hard, and I’m starting to think this is for nothing.” Cleo felt a hot tear glide down her cheek. “Hey, don’t give up. Not yet, atleast.” Abe pulled Cleo into a side hug.

“Tonight was just the beginning. Those assholes have no clue what they’re in for. We might just annoy them away from each other.” Abe’s words made Cleo feel a little bit better, but she was still doubtful. “We just gotta get Gandhi on our side.” Cleo looked at the sleeping teen, who had weirdly changed positions. “I’m his best friend, Cleo. I can 100% persuade him.” Abe confidently spoke and Cleo shrugged.

“I think you JFK has you beat on both Joan and Gandhi.” Cleo laughed as Abe fake gasped. “No way. Not true!” He whispered a little too loud, and JFK shot them both a dirty look. “Shh!” He guestered down to Joan, who was asleep in his lap. “Ew.” Cleo laughed, and then Abe joined in. “You guys are like, the grossest couple ever.” Cleo pestered, and Abe giggled behind her. “Yeah, seriously. I did not see you as the cuddling type, Kennedy. More of the f*ck ‘em and leave ‘em type.”

A scowl began to grow on JFK’s face, but he looked down at Joan. “I’d beat your uh, ass right now if my girl wasn’t sleeping on my lap right now.” JFK whispered. “Are you sure about that?” Abe teased him. “Or would ‘your girl’ stop you? Call you a good boy again and help you with your comprehension?” Cleo was surprised with Abe’s sudden confidence. JFK’s cheek turned red, and he scrunched his nose. He looked like he was about to stand up, but he stopped.

“She would stop me. And that’s what makes me a better man than you, Lincoln. I’m not uh, gonna be in a fight that’s not worth it.” JFK shook his head. “You’re a pansy. You’re only comin’ uh, at me because you know I won’t do anything. Grow up.” The van grew silent, only the sound of Joan’s soft snores echoing in the dark.

Suddenly, a loud roar of thunder shook the ground.

“Woah, what was that?” Gandhi perked up, spilling skittles all over the van. “I don’t know.” Abe peeked his head out of the van and looked around. In what felt like an instant, a crack of lightning lit up the sky. “sh*t, was it supposed to storm?” Cleo asked, instantly being cut off by the sound of rain hitting the van. The movie screen went dark, along with the lights in the lot.

“sh*t!” JFK lightly moved Joan off of him, and rushed to close the van doors before his interior was ruined. “Well, what’re we gonna do now?” Gandhi asked, looking to Abe and JFK. “Movie at my place?” Abe offered as JFK rolled his eyes. “Strong pass. I’m taking my girlfriend home. So uh, get out of my van. Now.” JFK pointed to the door. “But it’s raining.” Gandhi whined and JFK rolled his eyes. “Out. Now.”

“Can I come over?” Gandhi asked Abe, who nodded. “We can watch American Pie.” Abe opened the van door, the rain pouring harder than earlier. Abe looked to Cleo. “Are you coming?” He asked, as Cleo sighed. “Guess so.” She was about to get out of the van before JFK intervened. “I can uh, give ya a ride home. Since you and Joan are bunkmates and all.” He didn’t even look at her, as he too focused on trying to move Joan into the passenger's seat without waking her up.

Cleo’s heart tightened. “Okay. I’ll text you in a bit, Abe.” Abe shot Cleo a thumbs up and closed the door. “I didn’t expect the weather to turn like this.” Cleo laughed, looking at JFK. “Yup.” He responded, leaning the passenger's seat back buckling Joan in. He looked at her for a moment, and gave her a small kiss on the forehead.

He hopped into the driver’s seat, and maneuvered his way into the traffic. The ride remained silent until they were on the highway, and Cleo dreaded sitting in silence. “You know, I miss us, JFK.” Cleo mumbled, instantly regretting her words. “You should stop there.” He tapped the wheel, eyes focused straight ahead. “No, I mean it. Seriously, we had it all.” Cleo felt her heartbeat increase.

“Cleo, please don’t do this.” JFK’s voice sounded angry, and obviously came out a little louder than expected. “Jack?” Joan asked softly. “What’s wrong? Where are you?” Her voice was laced with delirium. “I’m driving us home, baby. There was a storm, so we uh, had to go.” His delivery drastically changed from when he was talking to Cleo. “Oh, okay. I miss you.” She mumbled, words slurring.

“I’m right here.” Joan responded with some incoherent muffles, and once again the car filled with silence. “That could be us.” Cleo whispered, inching her way closer to the front seat. “Do you uh, wanna walk home, Cleo? You’re uh, getting awfully close to it. “ JFK’s strict voice returned. “I know you miss me, Kennedy.” Cleo had no clue what she was doing. She was ruining the plan, and she could already hear Abe’s disapproval.

“I know you miss the sex, the way our bodies collided. You miss the chemistry, the kisses and-” Cleo continued to move closer to the front seat. “Shut the f*ck up!” JFK screamed, a loud roar of thunder echoing him. The fusion of noise awoke Joan one more time, who perked up instantly. “What’s wrong?” Her voice sounded shaky and anxious. “Nothing, baby. Go back to sleep for me, okay?” JFK sofly cooed, eyes still focused on the wrong. “No! Why were you screaming at me?” Joan cried, and JFK quickly swerved the car to the side of the road, throwing Cleo into the wall. “Jo, you’re alright. I wasn’t uh, screaming at you. The lightnin’ scared me, that’s all.” JFK looked back to Cleo with vicious eyes.

“You’re a baby.” Joan laughed, rubbing at her eyes. “I’m not the one cryin’!” JFK teased, booping Joan’s nose. “You okay?” He asked her, stroking her cheek. “I wanna go home.” She whispered, leaning back into the seat. “10 more minutes, doll. Next exit.” JFK merged back onto the highway, and the dreadful silence filled the van all the way home.

Once they were parked in the driveway, JFK shut the car off and sighed for a second before he got out. “You know what Cleo, I don’t miss you. I hate you. You uh, need to leave my girlfriend and I alone. Tell that gangly bastard boyfriend of yours the same.” JFK got out of the car, and opened Joan’s door.

“Jo, we’re home.” He whispered, only causing Joan to stir for a second. “And I’m the baby.” He laughed to himself, and unbuckled Joan, and carried her bridal style inside the house. Cleo slowly followed behind, trying to keep her composure. She felt like she was going to burst any second. When JFK opened the door, he expected everyone to be upstairs in bed, but Toots sat in the chair in the living room, facing the wall.

“JFK! Have you brought my Joanie home safely?” He asked as JFK laughed. “Of course, Toots. She’s uh, fast asleep.” Toots smiled. “Feel free to stay the night. I can’t see anything anyways.” Toots let out a loud laugh, and JFK just awkwardly laughed. “I uh, can’t tonight. My pop’s are probably up worried sick about the storm.” JFK lied. He just didn’t think he could spend any more time near Cleo.

“Well, tomorrow then!” Toots exclaimed. “We’ll see.” JFK bit his lip, and began to head upstairs. Cleo dreadfully followed, taking her rain soaked shoes off at the store. “You need a boyfriend like that Cleopatra.” Toots sighed, continuing the stare at the wall. “Also, do you know how to change the channel? The silent film fest is over, and I want to watch the QVC network.” Cleo ignored him and marched upstairs, knowing if she opened her mouth she’d break out in tears.

She turned the corner into her room to see JFK tucking Joan in. He had wrapped her in the blanket he gave her, and she was dressed head to toe in his sweat clothes. “Until tomorrow, Jo.” He kissed her on the forehead once more, and looked to see Cleo standing in the doorway. He walked out, and completely ignored her.

Cleo mournfully walked to her bed, and began to sob her eyes out. “Goodnight, Jacky.” Joan muttered on the bunk above her, which only caused Cleo to cry a little harder.

Chapter 5: but then again, kinda wish she were dead.

Chapter Text

I don’t know if tonight’s the best idea.”
JFK anxiously mumbled, unscrewing the top off the nail polish bottle. The rain pattered lightly on the roof, and his room was only lit by a coconut candle. “Why? We’ve been together every night this week, and I think we could use some time apart.” Joan gave JFK her hand, and he slowly began to apply the first coat of polish. “It’s not that. I uh-, I’ll find plans tonight. I have other friends.” JFK’s voice wavered, as his brain tried to ponder his list of friends. And for someone so popular, it wasn’t as many as he thought.

“Cleo just said some super- very weird uh, things to me last night.” JFK focused on Joan’s nail, trying to make sure the polish didn’t get on his skin. “Yeah, sorry I was asleep. You could’ve woke me up.” Joan laughed as JFK shook his head. “No, you probably needed the sleep. But when I drove you both home, she said some er uh, unnerving sh*t to me.” Joan looked at JFK with worried eyes.

“Like what?” She asked, and JFK paused for a moment. He wavered on telling Joan what Cleo actually said, because then he’d have to reveal how cruel he was to Cleo. He knew he didn’t hate Cleo, but in the moment, he did. She left him. And she had no right to beg for him- “You’re thinking hard, huh?” Joan interrupted his mental rambling. “Oh, I’m sorry.” He looked to her nails to see he had smudged the polish, and some of the dark pink excess had leaked onto his bed.

“She just said some sketchy stuff, Jo. I think it’s just for the best tonight you either stay with me, or even hang out with anyone else. I just want you to be safe.” JFK cleaned up around Joan’s nail, trying to fix it. “Be safe?” Joan questioned. “I am safe. It’s at my home, and I don’t need you protecting every 30 seconds like I'm some damsel in distress.”

JFK was a little hurt, but ignored Joan’s ‘damsel in distress’ comment. “She also almost puked in my van, and I uh, don’t want you to get sick. FYI.” JFK stated matter of factly, and earned a giggle from Joan. “Why? Would you not take care of me?” She faked whined. “Uh, of course I would. I’d bring ya soup, hold ‘yer hair back. Everythin’. But, I don’t know why you’re so adamant about hangin’ out with her.” JFK muttered, focusing on Joan’s ring finger. “She’s my friend. Plus, she has something important to tell me.”

Even Joan knew something bad was bound to happen. But the curiosity was eating her alive. “So tonight, either go hang out with the boys. Or try to sleep off some of those bags under your eyes.” Joan joked, causing JFK to roll his eyes. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” JFK stuck his tongue out at her. It wasn’t a lie. He barely slept the previously night due to thinking about what Cleo said to him, worried sick if she’d murder Joan in the middle of the night out of anger.

“Maybe I’ll call Gandhi up or somethin’. JFK shrugged, moving to Joan’s left hand. “I’m sure there’s some kind of party somewhere in Exclamation tonight. Use your little jock powers.” Joan smiled at him, but he didn’t respond. “I guess. I don’t know. I’ll probably just stay home.” JFK blew lightly on Joan’s nails, trying to dry them a little quicker.

“Babe. You can’t sit around and mope all night.” Joan frowned at him, and he tried to hide an eye roll. “I’m not moping. I’m just tired, and I uh, don’t want you to go. That’s all.” He mumbled. “Jack.” Joan cupped his cheek with the hand he wasn't painting, and leaned forward to kiss his forehead. “I’m gonna be fine. It’s just Cleo. I know what she said to you last night obviously upset you, but she can’t hurt me, alright?” Joan reassured him.

JFK nodded, and leaned his head into the crook of Joan’s neck. Joan wrapped her arms around him, ignoring the smudged nail polish she got on his sweater. “I could stay here forever.” He murmured into her neck. “I know.” Joan whispered, just enjoying the warmth of her boyfriend holding on to her. She felt JFK looked over her shoulder, and then heard the clinking of nail polish bottles. “Ya know what Jo, what if I painted my nails?” He asked, laughing a little.

“Oh like one of those emo boys, huh?” Joan reached behind her to grab the bag of nail polish bottles, and shifted through the bag. “Well, you can start with clear or white-“ “I wanna do uh, black. Or red. What do you think?” He pulled out the two different colored bottles, and looked to Joan for her opinion. “Well, you can start with black, and then see how you like it, yea?” She responded, taking the bottle off him. “How about both?” He smiled at her, handing over the second bottle.

Joan was unscrewing the top of the bottle when her phone buzzed silently against the bed. She picked it up and sighed. “Joan! It’s getting late, are you coming home soon?” Cleo asked, voice grainy from the connection. “Oh, yeah. I’ll be back in an hour.” Joan bit her lip, and heard Cleo groan from the other side of the phone. “How about in fifteen minutes?” Cleo’s voice dripped in honey, causing a bad feeling to grow in her chest. “Um, okay. Sure. See you soon.” Joan responded, and Cleo abruptly hung up.

“Please don’t go.” JFK pleaded, looking at Joan with wide eyes. “You uh, didn’t even paint my nails yet.” Joan reached out and put her hand on his cheek. “I’ll come over tomorrow morning, okay? We can get brunch, and I’ll do your nails. Promise?” JFK groaned, and tried to bury his face in Joan’s palm. “Do you have the sweater and blanket I gave you?” He asked her, retracting his head back up to Joan’s eye level.

“Yes, mom.” Joan joked, standing up from the bed. “I just want to make sure my girl is all warm without me.” JFK wrapped his arms around Joan behind her. “Let uh, me drive you.” He murmured into her back. “I can walk, Jacky. Get some rest.” Joan tried to pull away, but her restraint only caused JFK to pull harder. “It’s raining, darling. Please. I uh, won’t make any wet jokes.” JFK laughed, continuing to hug Joan tighter.

“You better promise me on that one.” Joan reached to grab JFK’s keys off his nightstand, and he gently pulled off of her. “If we’re not in the car, then uh that promise is activated.” JFK reached his hand down Joan’s lower back. “Keep it in your pants, Kennedy.” Joan slapped his hand away. “I’m about to leave anyways. Wouldn’t want to get too riled up, would we?” Joan stared JFK down, who was studying Joan’s face. “How about uh, a couple more minutes, babygirl?” JFK’s soft voice oozed like honey off his lips.

“Cleo can uh, wait, angel face.” JFK threw his keys back on the nightstand, and welcomed Joan back to the bed with a kiss. “Can Cleo wait? She’ll kill me.” Joan thought to herself, as JFK pushed her against the bed, kissing down her chest. Joan’s heart dropped once JFK’s kissing reached the bottom of her stomach.

“She can wait.” Joan pondered, biting her lip to hide a moan.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
“Jesus, you look like a wreck.” Cleo glared at Joan as she walked in the door. Joan didn’t blame her though. Joan’s hair was untidied and makeup was running, so she knew she looked absolutely mad. “Sorry, the rain is kinda messing with me.” Joan slid off JFK’s big yellow raincoat, and hung it on the coat rack by the front door. “Well, did those hickeys come from the rain, too? Plus, you’re over an hour late” Cleo snarled, causing Joan to fix the collar on JFK’s sweatshirt. “Whatever. What did you want to talk to me about?” Joan asked, sitting down next to Cleo in the living room.

Cleo winced and inched away, and Joan felt a twist in her chest. “Why don’t we head upstairs? I have some snacks and stuff in our room.” Cleo gestured towards the stairs, and Joan tried not to bite a hole in her lip. She didn’t know why she was nervous. It felt like there was something eating at her insides. It couldn’t be jealousy. She had everything she wanted. It easily could’ve been nerves. But Joan knew it was guilt.

Joan sometimes felt like JFK was temporarily hers. Just something that was her for a moment. Yeah, sure they’ll date for a couple more weeks. He’ll kiss her in the hallway, and run his fingers through her hair and kiss her forehead but it’s all…. it’s all temporary. Joan didn’t know what Cleo told JFK but it wasn’t sitting with her right. He was obviously thinking about it. Thinking about her. Cleo.

“f*ck.” Joan mumbled under her breath, walking in her and Cleo’s shared bedroom. “Did you say something?” Cleo asked, voice hitting Joan like nails on a chalkboard. “Nope.” Joan lied, continuing to bite the forming hole in her mouth. “There’s popcorn and chips right here. I mean, I don’t need to eat it. Gotta keep that figure.” Cleo laughed, but Joan just half heartedly smiled and sat on her bed.

“Cleo, what is this about?” Joan asked, pulling at the now damp sleeves on her sweatshirt. “Why can’t we just hang out as girls?” Cleo coaxed, sitting next to Joan on her bed. “I don’t know. I think I’m just a little stressed out. That’s all.” Cleo moved behind Joan and started massaging her shoulders. “It could be the weather. I get really bad headaches when it snows. Maybe the rain throws you off a little.” Cleo slowly massaged Joan’s shoulders, ironically causing Joan to tense up more.

Was Cleo gonna try to kill her? One little movement and Joan’s neck could be snapped. ‘Oh God.’ Joan thought, feeling her chest tighten. ‘Cleo was gonna try to kill her.’ Joan flexed her right shoulder and Cleo laughed. “Why are you so tense? I’m not gonna hurt you.” Joan felt her mouth pool with blood from her lip. “I hope not.”
-
The rain pattered on the roof of JFK’s house. He tried counting it. But the drops would grow stronger, and then decrease. It would come in waves. He stopped counting at 324.

He tried going back to sleep, but he felt too awake. Last night was exhausting. He considered calling Joan, but he didn’t want to wake her up. He also didn’t want to talk about her roommate who was in the same room as her. JFK was gonna tell Joan what Cleo said. He was just waiting. He doesn’t want to hurt her. Joan would confront Cleo, and create an already weirder atmosphere between all of them.

JFK used to be out every Saturday. He would be at every house party, every kegger and he even made his way into a couple college parties. Now here he was, sitting alone in his house, feeling bad about himself. He picked up his phone next to him on the bed, and scrolled through his contacts.

Joan <3: He couldn’t bother her.
Abe: Ew.
J. Caesar: Annoying. And pissed JFK off this week.
Poncey: JFK frowned at his phone.
Cleo: He was about to throw his phone at a wall.

He finally came across Gandhi, who was at the bottom of his missed calls. JFK rolled his eyes and took a deep breath. “Fine, whatever.” JFK mumbled and dialed the number. It rang for a couple of seconds before the other line answered. “Yoooooo, JFK! What’re you up to, babey!” Gandhi exclaimed, voice being drowned out slightly by obnoxious rap music.

“ I, uh, am sitting inside doing nothing. Can you believe that!” JFK fake laughed, being joined in by Gandhi. “That’s a bummer, dude. Wanna grab a bite or something?” JFK ran his fingers through his hair. “Uh, sure. Why not?” JFK mumbled, staring at the rain outside. “How about in, fifteen minutes?” The rap music was quieter now, but more rustling could be heard in the background. “Sure, man. Joanie’s got my car though, so do you uh, think you can give me a lift?”

Gandhi was quiet for a moment. “Yea sure! I’ll be there in 10!” Gandhi hung up and JFK searched around his room for another raincoat. He didn’t even like Gandhi this much. He truly just needed to get out of his house, because he knew he would go insane if he stayed at home much longer. He found some shaggy red raincoat in his closet and threw it on his bed.

JFK walked over to his window and stared at the rain, the intense downpour beginning to fade. He turned down to his desk and opened the bottom drawer to the left. He grabbed an unlit cigarette and popped in between his lips. He cracked the window a little, the sound of the rain growing. He grabbed a lighter from his bedside table and lit the cigarette.

Joan would hate to see him do this. She would say “Jack, you know how bad those are for you?” and grab it from his lips, take one drag herself and bum it on the bedside table. Then she’d carefully place her hand on his cheek and kiss him, then playfully run her fingers through his hair. She’d make a joke how he tasted like a chimney and JFK would say fine, then you don’t have to kiss me. Joan would roll her eyes and continue to kiss him anyways.

But Joan wasn’t here.

JFK groaned, and took a long drag from the cigarette. Cleo would smoke with him. He’d like a cigarette in the back of his van, Cleo would complain about the smell, but then grab the lit cigarette between his fingers. She would never inhale, and JFK never told Cleo he noticed. But the way the moonlight would hit her face, it didn’t even matter. JFK felt his heart twist. “f*ckin’ Cleo.” He muttered, taking in another smoke.

His moment of mourning was cancelled but the ring of a bell in front of his house. He looked down to see Gandhi on a bike, training wheels still intact. “Jesus Christ.” JFK mumbled, tossing the cigarette out the crack of the window. He closed it and grabbed his raincoat off the bed. On his way out, he also grabbed the keys to his van.

“Foster Dads! I uh, I’m going out tonight. I’ll uh, be back whenever I guess.” JFK shouted, walking down the stairs. “Be safe, Jacky. The weather is rough. I don’t want you driving too late.” Wally sighed, looking at his watch. “I’ll be safe. See ya, pops.” JFK waved, shimmying his jacket out his shoulders. The moment he walked out his front door, Gandhi was there to meet him. “Hey buddy!” Gandhi announced, hopping off his bike.

“I was gonna come in, but I didn’t wanna be weird.” Gandhi continued, as JFK just nodded. “We’re uh, actually just gonna take the van. I um, don’t wanna be seen with you. On that.” JFK gestured to Gandhi’s bike. Gandhi let out a laugh. “Oh, you mean Rosie? I would’ve made it work.” JFK ignored him, and grabbed the bike. He placed it in the back of his van, and slammed the door.

“Jeez. What’s your deal today?” Gandhi crawled in the front seat of JFK’s car. “I’m just tired. That’s it.” JFK started up the van, and ran his fingers through his hair. “You could’ve stayed at home. But you called me.” Gandhi said, playing around with the seat. “I know I did. I uh, needed to get out of the house.” JFK pulled out of the driveway, and headed to the grassy knoll.

“Is it because Joan isn’t around? I figured you would be with her tonight.” Gandhi looked at JFK, who ignored eye contact. “Yeah, she’s uh, with Cleo.” He mumbled, hands tightening on the wheel. “What’s the deal with you guys recently? I saw them in the parking lot of the knoll last night looking for you.” Gandhi confessed, and JFK’s eyes widened.

“They what?” He growled, pulling over to the side of the road. “Woah, okay buddy.” Gandhi fastened his seatbelt. “Let’s get something to eat first, and then we can talk about it. You look like you could kill someone right now.” He persuaded, as JFK switched the car back into drive. “I knew uh, something sketchy went on last night. I, f*cking knew it.” JFK mumbled to himself, mood souring by the second.

“Don’t get too worked up.” Gandhi knew his words wouldn’t help. “They uh, ruined my date night last night. It was supposed to be just Joan and I. Not uh, some weird double date sh*t.” JFK snarled, pulling into a spot at the Grassy Knoll. “Look, you’re mad. I get it.” Gandhi began, and JFK looked at him for further consolation. “That’s it.” Gandhi stopped talking and JFK put the car into park.

They walked inside together in silence, and sat in the booth usually reserved for JFK. “So, what happened here last night?” JFK asked, fingers anxiously tapping the table. “It was just Abe being a weirdo. He asked where you guys were, he paid me not to say anything and apparently he paid off Vincent too. At Least that’s what he told me this morning.” Gandhi nonchalantly admitted, and the fire inside JFK grew. “What the f*ck? They were stalking us yesterday?” JFK put his head in his hands, and the question came out muffled. “Can’t hear ya, bud.”

“THEY WERE STALKING US?” JFK squealed, earning looks from everyone in the place. “I guess.” Gandhi waved to some of the onlooking eyes. “I gotta uh, I gotta go tell Joan. What if Cleo’s uh, trying to her hurt right now or somethin’? She was uh, saying some wacky sh*t to me last night.” Nerves lingered in JFK’s tone, his voice becoming breathy and panicky. “Adventure?” Gandhi’s eyes sparked at the thought of another night of drama.

“Hey, Jacky boy!” A familiar voice called over the crowd of Saturday night diners. “Where’s your little toy that’s tied to your waist? Busy night?” Caesar continued, walking over to JFK’s table. “Why the f*ck do ya, uh, care?” JFK barked, crossing his arms and leaning back into the booth. “I uh uh uh don’t care, dimwit. Just surprised she’s not hanging off your dick this weekend.” Julius teased, resting his hands on the table. “Dude, I don’t know what you’re going after but tonight isn’t the night. Back off.” There was less malice in Gandhi's tone, and more worry. He knows what JFK can do mad.

“You need your boy toy to stand up for you, huh, Kennedy?” Julius glared at JFK, who sat in complete silence. “I guess you’re only with him tonight because you’ve got nobody. Ponce is dead, everyone else hates you and even your little girlfriend has someone else down her throat this weekend. Sucks to be you I guess.” Julius’ words hit JFK like venom. JFK’s palms were beginning to bleed from the pressure of his nails.

“Not a good choice, bro.” Gandhi sighed, and right on cue, JFK attacked Julius with a pounce. “You’re a stupid uh, f*cking idiot to not only uh, come after my girlfriend, but after my friends? You’re uh, dead bucko.” JFK pounded at Julius head, spitting in his face. Julius was trying to put up a fight, throwing weak punches at JFK’s face. He did manage to get JFK’s nose, as JFK could taste the blood dripping into his mouth.

The diner was fueled with high intensity, some people screaming for JFK while others orchestrated the “oohs” everytime he nailed Julius in the face. Gandhi stood there the whole time with his arms crossed, leaning against the table, muttering “I told him not to start with him tonight. I told him!”
—-
“Oh, I bet Caesar could pound Kennedy. Easily.”
Cleo laughed, applying a dark pink nail polish to Joan’s nails. Cleo said they looked sloppy from early, so she offered to fix them up for Joan. “I don’t think so. Jack’s got strong arms. He could easily take out anyone with one punch.” Joan shook her head with laughter. “He’s a big baby though.” Cleo blew on Joan’s nails. A sick wave of Deja vu racked through Joan’s body. She shrugged it off.

Tonight has been going… wildly successful. Joan felt like she was… grossly bonding with Cleo. They did each other’s hair, makeup and now nails. It felt like a sleepover for little girls, but for some reason, Joan was okay with it. She appreciated Cleo’s company. Joan knew she had been overacting everything that was going on, and yesterday was just a coincidence. She missed Cleo, even thought it was hard to admit.

“He’d probably throw one punch and be all “owwwww jo, i uh uh need you to kiss it better”.” Cleo mocked as Joan playfully shoved her. “He’s only done that once.” Joan laughed, looking at her nails. “You do a better job at him with nails though.” Cleo straightened her shoulders. “I know. You don’t have to tell me twice.”

“It’s nice when we hang out. You’re pretty cool, Cleo.” Joan smiled. “Once again, you don’t have to tell me twice.” Cleo closed the lid on the nail polish. “Hey, isn’t your birthday coming up?” Cleo asked as Joan shrugged. “A week from today. Yeah.” Joan's eyes averted to the floor. “Omg! Why haven’t you said anything?” Cleo moved closer to her, and Joan, for once, didn't back away.

“I was talking to Toots about doing something small. Just like, a little cake. Couple of people. I don’t like big crowds, or parties. I want something memorable, you know?” Joan confessed, pulling at the carpet on the floor. “Hey, why don’t you let me plan something like that for you? We can do it here and I’ll get Abe and Gandhi to help?” Cleo’s smile shined. “Are you sure? I don’t want to put a lot of pressure on you.”

Cleo shook her head. “Of course not. It’ll be like, a surprise party that you already know about party?” Joan smiled. “That would be great. Thanks, Cleo.” Joan put her hand on Cleo’s and squeezed it. “You’re my best friend.” Joan smiled, and Cleo grabbed Joan’s hand and squeezed it back. “You’re mine. Those stupid boys have nothing on us.”

Joan laughed, but attention deferred to a hard tap on the window. She screamed when she saw Gandhi's face in the window, seeming to be sitting on someone’s shoulders. “Jesus Christ!” Joan exclaimed, opening the window. Gandhi was smiling, and JFK was underneath him, his nose caked in blood. “Jack, what happened?” Joan asked, causing JFK to try and wiped the caked blood from under his nose. “Just a uh, little skirmish. That’s all.” JFK pushed Gandhi through the window. “Smells like girls in here.” He squealed, sniffing over to Cleo. She disgustingly pushed him away and groaned.

“Joan, this is beyond rude on your part. I didn’t tell you to invite your boyfriend and his little boyfriend.” Cleo growled, causing JFK and Gandhi to look at each other and break out in laughter. They were just getting along. “I promise I want them here as much as you do.” Joan rolled her eyes, and stared at JFK’s ripped sweater. Joan saw some blood on his undershirt, and bit her lip. “Did you fight a werewolf or something?” Joan laughed, pointing at JFK’s sweater. “I er uh, don’t understand that joke.”

“What the hell happened?” Joan asked, leading JFK to her bed. “Caesar was uh, asshole. I totally beat his ass though.” Joan looked to Cleo and smiled. “I told you.” She mouthed, and Cleo immediately dismissed her. Guess they were back to enemies. “We have to talk now, though. ASAP.” JFK’s voice sounded worried, panicked even, which scared Joan a little.

“Babe, I think you’re tired and a little freaked out over the whole fight thing. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Joan grabbed his hand and led him to the bathroom. “No, Joan. This is serious.” Joan felt her heart drop at the fact he called her Joan, but she ignored it. She closed the bathroom door behind them, and watched JFK sit on the tub.

“What the hell is going on with you?” Joan asked him, rubbing at her temples. “You should’ve just stayed at home tonight, Jack.” Joan reached underneath the sink to grab the rubbing alcohol and her first aid kit. “I was bored. Am I er uh, not allowed to go anywhere?” JFK rolled his eyes. “You look exhausted, dude.” Joan didn't even have to look at him, she just applied the rubbing alcohol to a cotton ball.

“I’m saving you uh, right now. From having to spend time with that, that uh, thing.” JFK snarled, wincing slightly from the cold touch of the rubbing alcohol. “I was having a great time, actually. We were getting along really well.” JFK realized he should’ve felt guilt, but he didn’t. “Jo. They’re stalking us. Cleo and Abe. They bribed Gandhi. And even uh, Van Gogh!” Joan seemed to ignore JFK, and just slightly rested a hand on his forehead.

“You’re not running a fever. Maybe you’ve got a concussion or something.” Joan lifted JFK’s chin to see his pupils, but JFK lightly pushed her away. “Stop it! I’m uh, I’m not making this up. I’m not sick, I’m not concussed. The only thing I am uh, sick of is these little games they’re er uh, playing with us. Jo, Gandhi told me.” Joan bit her lip. “I don’t know. Jack, I don’t even think they care enough.”

‘Maybe she was right.’ JFK thought. As she applied neosporin around his nose, he realized how crazy he sounded. “I’m sorry I uh, interrupted your night. From what I saw through the window, it seemed like uh, a nice time.” JFK gave Joan a sad smile. Joan even knew she couldn’t stay mad at him. “Hey, it’s okay. Even if you are right, it was probably planned by Abe. f*ck that guy.” Joan laughed, applying a bandaid on a cut on JFK’s cheek.

“Yea uh, f*ck that guy.” JFK still sat with an uneasiness in his stomach. Something didn’t feel right. “Hey, let me see your chest.” Joan grabbed the collar of JFK’s shirt, and saw a bruise forming next to his collarbones. “Yikes, that looks nasty.” She winced. “I’m gonna get you an ice pack and a new shirt, hon. Stay here.” Joan kissed his forehead and opened the bathroom door.

Like a cat, Cleo waltzed her way in not even seconds later. “Hey.” Cleo mumbled, and JFK didn’t even look up at her. “Whaddya want, Cleo.” It wasn't even expressed as a question, more of a statement. “I just wanna say sorry. For last night, it was really inappropriate of me. Joan is my best friend and I would never want to hurt her.” Cleo apologized, and JFK finally looked up. “Hey, I uh, forgive ya. Jo seems really happy tonight.”

“You know her birthdays coming up, right?” Cleo asked as JFK nodded. “Saturday, right?” Cleo leaned against the sink. “Yeah, I was talking to her and she said no one has ever thrown a surprise party for her. All she’s ever wanted was something big with a lot of people but Toots never planned it for her.” Cleo watched JFK’s eyes widen.

“I could uh, totally throw one for her! You sure she wants something big? I can swear I remember her saying she doesn’t like big parties.” JFK seemed to be pondering his thoughts when Cleo interrupted him. “No! She told me she wants something huge. A lot of booze and bright lights. It’s something she’s always wanted. If you want, we can plan it together. It’ll be easier than just by yourself.”

JFK paused for a moment, but finally sighed. “Uh, sure. Let’s start Monday after school, yeah?” He asked as Cleo smiled. “Of course.” The moment between them lingered, Cleo staring much more than she should. “Hey, Cleo!” Gandhi screamed from the other room. “Which one has your bras in it? Just curious!” Cleo groaned and pointed to the door. “I gotta tend to that.” She laughed, looking at JFK who just shrugged. “Go ahead.”

Joan turned the corner almost immediately after Cleo left, ice packs and a large orange sweater in her hands. “Here you go, baby.” Joan helped JFK undress himself, and put his large orange “clone state” sweater over his head. “You’re the best girlfriend ever.” JFK tried to wrap his arms around Joan to hug her, but winced from the bruise. Joan cupped her hands around his cheeks and kissed his forehead.

“Go home. Get some sleep. Tomorrow we can get breakfast or something.” She peppered his forehead in kisses even though he smelled like sweat and peroxide. “I’m wiped, so I uh, guess Gandhi’s gonna have to drive home.” JFK stood up, slightly using Joan for balance even though he towered over her. “Can he even drive?” Joan asked as JFK shrugged. “He still uh, uses training wheels so I doubt it.”

When they walked out of the bathroom, Gandhi was wearing a bra over his clothes and bright pink lipstick. “Joan, do I look sexy or what?” He asked as Joan awkwardly smiled. “Sure. Do you think you can drive Jack home?” Gandhi’s eyes sparkled. “Yes. I’ve been waiting forever for this.” JFK threw the keys and Gandhi and he missed. Obviously.

He scurried out the window and disappeared into the night. “I’m gonna uh, die tonight.” JFK muttered, walking over to the window. “We have a door. It makes me nervous you all don’t use doors.” Joan nervously spoke. “I don’t wanna get ya in uh, trouble. Even though Toots can’t really see, I guess.” JFK hoisted himself out the window. “Sleep tight, Jo.” He blew her a kiss and hobbled over to his van, that had all the lights out and was blasting “the boys were back in town.”

Joan was 78% positive that JFK might not survive.

“Hey, I’m sorry about that.” Joan apologized, sitting on her bed. “Hey, you couldn’t have seen it coming. I guess you were right about Kennedy beating Caesar though.” Cleo joked, causing Joan to smile again. She liked when they got along. “And hey one more thing, I was talking to JFK and he said he would love to plan your birthday. Something small and sweet and his place. His dads wouldn’t mind.”

Joan felt her chest light up. “Really? I can’t wait.” This had always been Joan’s little secret dream. Her very own boyfriend is planning her birthday party. “I’m sure it’ll be great. He likes you a lot Joan.” Joan felt her cheeks blush. “He’s incredible. You wanna watch a movie or something? I’ll grab one from downstairs.” Cleo nodded, and Joan disappeared down the stairs.

Cleo pulled out her phone and drafted a text to Abe.

“tonight went well, even better than planned. lets just say that im a great actress (oscar worthy) and ive got joan and jacky boy in the palm of my hand. vulnerable attracts vulnerable i guess. we’ll talk it tomorrow lol.”
“Hey Cleo, how does 10 things I hate about you sound?” Joan asked, sitting back down on her bed. “Sounds great!” Cleo fake smiled.

And send.

Chapter 6: i watch your eyes

Chapter Text

“They’re just like… way stupider than I thought!”

Abe rolled his eyes and shut his locker. “More stupid is the correct term. I hope you know that.” He growled as Cleo gasped. “Why are you so pissy? We’re so close, Abe. I can taste it.” Abe could practically see the stars shining in Cleo’s eyes. “After last weekend, I’m not getting my hopes up about anything.” Abe glanced over to Joan’s locker, which of course was preoccupied by JFK.

He toppled over Joan, one arm keeping up his body weight against the lockers and the other holding Joan’s book. And of course Joan was wearing that stupid striped sweater. It made Abe sick. “You’re staring, freak show.” Cleo whispered, causing Abe to snap back to reality. “I wasn’t staring.” Cleo just pursed her lips. “I’m sure.”

“I’m hanging out with JFK to “party plan.”. I texted him earlier and he never answered, but I’m sure the answer is yes.” Cleo continued, fixing her hair. “That’s the real reason you’re planning all this. You could give less of a sh*t about me. You’re more focused on getting some one on one Kennedy time.” Abe scoffed, trying to look into Cleo’s averted eyes. “That’s not true. I’m really trying to help you.”

Before Abe could say anything else, Cleo had walked over to Joan and JFK. “Hi besties!” Cleo announced, earning a smile from Joan and an eye roll from JFK. “Are we still on for tonight, JFK?” Cleo asked as JFK looked to Joan. “Not uh, tonight. Let’s go now.” JFK kissed Joan on the forehead. “I’ll see ya at 6, Jo.” Joan waved, and Cleo followed JFK out the side doors of the school.

“You’re in quite a rush, huh?” Cleo joked, earning no reaction from JFK. “Listen, I uh, don’t wanna be out with you all night. I’ve got plans with Jo at 6, so uh, let’s just wrap this up.” JFK’s tone was flat, and obviously irritated. Cleo tried to avoid the thought that all he wanted to do was be with Joan, and grasped onto the small hope that maybe he wanted to hang out with her

“We heading to your place?” Cleo smirked. JFK unlocked his car and angrily got in the driver's seat. “Hell no. We are going to the uh, starbucks near that one party store.” He started the car and Cleo bit her lip in embarrassment. “Look, JFK. I want to do this at much as you do.” Cleo lied. “But remember, we’re doing this for Joan. She wants this.”

JFK slightly smiled, most likely at the thought of Joan. “Okay, uh, fine.” He sighed, pulling out of the parking lot. “Do you know uh, what she wants? Has she said anything specific?” JFK asked, looking to Cleo. Cleo had to stop herself from spacing out. The more she looked into his eyes, the more love she felt burning in her chest from JFK.

She felt as creepy as Abe.

“I don’t know. Books or whatever.” Cleo laughed. JFK obviously didn’t think it was too funny, as his stare averted from Cleo and back to the road. “I uh, don’t think they sell whatever.” He muttered. They continued the rest of the ride in silence. When they arrived at the coffee shop, Cleo noticed the copies of books on the floor near her feet.

“Did Joan‘s book bag spill or something this morning?” Cleo tried to make it sound like another joke, but obviously her jokes have been turning out unsuccessful. “Nah. They’re uh, Joan’s but I just finished reading them. I uh, forgot to give em to her this morning.” Cleo heard him laugh for the first time in a while, and her heart sank.

“I’ve never seen you pick up a book on purpose.” Cleo grabbed the small planning notebook she had brought with her, and looked to notice that JFK had already got out of the car. His ignorance towards her was starting to burn a little. JFK hadn’t hurt her feelings yet, but he was definitely getting there. “Wait up!” She yelled, closing JFK’s car door.

“Don’t slam my door!” He shouted back, continuing to walk straight ahead of her. Cleo watched how easily he walked in, waving to the barista who brightly smiled back. But when Cleo smiled at her, the barista just rolled her eyes. It made Cleo feel that feeling that had been eating her up recently. It was like… insecurity or something.

Even the word sounded stupid.

“Over here.” JFK called, waving Cleo over the table near the window he had selected. “Do you want a coffee? I kinda want a coffee.” Cleo puffed out her chest, and prepared herself to walk over to the barista and prove how much prettier she was than her. Or was it more pretty? Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter.

“You take it black, right?” Cleo asked as JFK shook his head. He pulled a twenty dollar bill out of back pocket and handed it to Cleo. “Just a tea.” Cleo had to stop herself from hysterically laughing. “Tea is for puss*es.” She scoffed. “How can a uh, drink make you a puss*, Cleo?” He leaned back in the chair.

“It just does. Did Joan get you into that too?” Cleo teased. “In fact, she uh, did. Do you have a problem with that?” He growled, as Cleo shrugged. “I just think it’s weird. You always seemed like more of a coffee guy.” Cleo noticed him look at his watch. “I’ll be right back.” Cleo mumbled, walking over to the cash register.

“Hi!” Cleo announced to the barista, voice dropping is faux enthusiasm. “Hey! I’m surprised Joan isn’t here today. Is she alright?” The barista asked, returning the same energy Cleo was letting off. “She’s great. JFK and I are actually planning Joan’s sweet sixteen and it’s just so great because we never spend time together anymore-“

“What can I get for you? I already have JFK’s tea made.” The barista interrupted. Cleo was taken aback. That was terrible customer service. “I’ll have the same thing as JFK.” She smiled at the barista, who sighed. “Sure, whatever. 5.15.” Cleo handed the barista the twenty, and JFK yelled over “keep the change, katie!” The barista smiled. “He’s the best. Your drinks will be at the end.”

“You know, he really is the best.” Cleo began. “I think he’s so great and-“ “I said, your drinks will be at the end.” The barista guestered to the end of the bar. Cleo rolled her eyes and walked away. She would be complaining to corporate about the rudeness she was enduring. Cleo was also starting to notice that this wasn’t her JFK anymore. He was Joan’s.

She has him wrapped around her finger, with all of the books and the tea and the tipping. This wasn’t the JFK Cleo had known. This was someone who actually seemed to want to do something instead of sex. It made Cleo want him more. Cleo watched the two pop out the end window, and she grabbed them.

“That took pretty long.” JFK complained, doodling the “JOAN’S BDay PaRTY” notebook that Cleo had put together. The words were in stick on glitter letters, but she only had one capital a. In her defense, she was trying to impress JFK. Show her artsy side a bit. “That barista is a bitch.” Cleo spat, sitting across from JFK. “She actually uh, isn’t. But okay.” JFK sipped his tea, and Cleo immediately imitated him.

It tasted gross. There was so much sugar in it, and something that tasted like honey. Cleo winced at the taste. How did he go from drinking black coffee to whatever that was? “The tea is great.” Cleo lied. “I’m sorry I called you a puss*.” She smiled at JFK, but he continued to doodle in the notebook.

“It’s whatever. I wrote down some ideas. Just look at them, and then we’ll go to the next store and pick up some stuff.” JFK flipped the notebook around to Cleo and she scanned his ideas.

-balloons.
fair enough.
-streamers
once again, fair enough.
-beer
predictable
-alcohol
Cleo was surprised he spelled it right. He left her a note once that said “get alcahal :)”
-cake
of course.
-ice sculpture

“I think you got all the basics.” Cleo turned the list back around to JFK. “Did you invite a lot of people?” Cleo asked as JFK nodded. “I’m telling uh, everyone about this. Every teen in exclamation is gonna show up, I uh, promise you that.” JFK smiled. It seemed genuine.

Cleo liked JFK’s smile. It was so strong, yet so naive. Whenever he talked she couldn’t help herself but to stare at his lips, seeming softer and softer by every sentence. He seemed… smarter now. More focused. Cleo knew she needed someone like that.

“This party is gonna be off the rails!” JFK shouted, smiling wider at Cleo. She ignored to storm of butterflies flying around in her chest.

“It’s gonna be great!”

Chapter 7: what a sight for sore eyes

Chapter Text

“Hey! Uh, be very careful with that! Very precious cargo!”

JFK shouted across the house to the front door, where Abe was sloppily carrying in a big box. “It’s super heavy man, what do you want me to do?!” Abe whined as JFK just rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Just don’t mess my uh, girl’s cake up or I’ll kill ya!”

Streamers were draped across the top of JFK’s house, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOAN” written in delicate calligraphy across multiple banners around the house. JFK was proud of himself. A beautifully decorated party with his folks out of the house, and more than expensive champagne and hard liquor littered the dining room table. All for his girlfriend. He knew she was gonna love it.

“Gandhi, did you er uh, finish the lawn decorations? Did you put the lights up around the uh, pool? Did you do the-“ Gandhi lifted his fingers to JFK’s lips and shushed him. “Jacky, babey. I got it all undercover. This is gonna be the best night of Joan’s life!” Gandhi reached out a high five to JFK, who respectfully declined. Gandhi high fived himself and scurried into the backyard.

The sun had just began to set so JFK knew it was only a matter of time before people started to roll in, and eventually Cleo and Joan. JFK’s heart fluttered at the thought of Joan’s excited face, and her running into his arms. “Oh JFK!” He knew she would exclaim, kissing all over him. “I uh, am so happy you uh, did this for me!” He played out the whole situation in his head. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

“You doing good over there, bud?” Abe asked, walking over to JFK who snapped out of his daydream trance. “I’m just really uh, excited for tonight. That’s all.” JFK smiled again and Abe had to contain a groan. “Aw, that’s awesome, dude. I’m really glad we could team up today and get the whole place decorated. It looks great.”

JFK was a little weirded out by Abe’s startling approval, so he just simply nodded. “You know, I threw a party for Joan when we were little.” Abe’s tone came off as a brag, and it lacked confidence due to the fact he wasn’t making eye contact with JFK, instead fiddling with the plastic tablecloth on the kitchen table. “Really? What did ya uh, do?” JFK couldn’t hide the curiosity in his voice.

“Oh, you know I planned it at the library. It was just a couple of people, but we just hung out and read. Joan really seemed to enjoy it.” JFK rolled his eyes again, and leaned against the kitchen table. “That girl sure does love a book, huh?” JFK laughed, shaking his head. “Sure does. I got her one for her birthday. Emma, I think it’s called? I was talking to Jane about it at lunch the other day and she said Joan would really like it and-“

“Oh she does.” JFK interrupted him. “She’s read it. Multiple times. We read it together in fact, uh actually. It’s about the matchmaking gal, right?” He asked, glaring Abe up and down. “Uh, yeah. I don't know. I didn’t really read the back of it.” Abe nervously whispering, putting his hands in his back pockets.

“I uh, think I’m right. But she already has two copies of that, so I uh, advise ya to get another book, Lincoln.” JFK scoffed, walking away from the table. “I’m gonna go get ready, the bookstore is open until 7 if ya gotta pick something up!” JFK watched Abe’s expression shatter, and he wasn’t gonna lie, it felt great.

He walked up the stairs and heard Abe nervously mumbling on the phone, probably to Cleo about his silly little book situation. JFK knew he was starting to know Joan better than anyone else. Abe always felt the need to correct him about little things, and even Gandhi would get on him about some stuff.

JFK just wanted to make Joan happy. Simple as that. If it meant staying up until 3 a.m hot gluing glitter on banners and baking cookies, he’d do it every night for the rest of his life. He walked into the bathroom and studied his hair for a moment. He primped and primed it as much as he could, and decided he would just change his sweater for the night.

As he watched the clock next to his bed tick, he felt a nervous feeling begin to grow in his stomach. What if Joan hated the party? What if she wants nothing to do with him after this? Throwing some lame ass party? He heard people downstairs slowly begin to filter in, being greeted by the overly obnoxious Gandhi. JFK looked to his bathroom counter.

Under the sink, he kept a bottle of smirnoff vodka just for nights he couldn’t sleep, or nights he felt on edge. But he hasn’t used it since Joan came into the picture, so the shot glasses remained empty and the bottle was full. JFK bit his lip, and studied the bottle for a moment. He needed it, he convinced himself.

Something to soften the edges.

He took out the clear glass and poured one shot. And then another. And then one more. He stopped at five, because even though his tolerance was high, the night had just begun. He sloppily threw the bottle back in the cabinet, hearing the shot glass shatter. He looked at himself in the mirror one last time and smiled. Tonight was for his Jo. He staggered down the stairs and announced “who’s ready to party!” once he reached the bottom, inciting an orchestra of cheers.

He didn’t even remember he forgot to change his sweater.

————

“I don’t know, Abe! Go buy another book or something, I can’t help you! Just remember to shoot me a text when everyone shows up. See you soon.”

Cleo abruptly hung up the phone when she saw Joan walk out of the bathroom. Joan was dressed in a short leather skirt, not even reaching the middle of her thighs, and a see through red top. “I feel like this is beyond over the top, Cleo.” Joan sounded annoyed, angry even, at the array of tight clothes Cleo put together.

“I picked that out special for you at the mall! Consider it one of your gifts. Be grateful.” Cleo threw Joan a pair of red heels. “You’re gonna need these, too.” Joan rolled her eyes. “Who do I have to impress? Jack already said he likes me for me. No need to clown myself up.” Joan muttered, looking at herself in Cleo’s partially shattered mirror.

“You should do it for yourself, Joan. Now sit down and let me do your makeup.” Cleo gestured to the stool in front of her but Joan stayed put. “Can we just go over now? We can take some pictures and whatever but I just kinda want to see my boyfriend on my birthday.” Annoyance still lingered in Joan’s voice.

“Well, that “boyfriend” of yours isn’t ready. He’s doing his hair or something probably, please sit down.” Cleo batted her lashes at Joan, who finally gave in. “I think Gandhi incited Vincent and Marie. Is that okay with you?” Cleo asked as Joan sighed. “I kinda wanted it to just be small, but whatever. The more the merrier I guess.”

Cleo smiled to herself. She felt a little guilt doing all of this, sure. But she had to keep reminding herself that she was a queen. She deserved better than what was happening with her. She didn’t need all this low self esteem and feeling bad for herself. She needed a prince, and she was set on getting hers back.

“Please just light makeup. It takes forever to get off.” Joan pleaded as Cleo began to cake the foundation on Joan’s face. “Oh yeah, sure. I promise.” Cleo added a light powder over the foundation, and grabbed the nearest eye shadow pallet. “I’m thinking red and black.” Cleo began to smudge the red eye shadow, poking Joan a little too hard.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” Joan winced her eyes and pulled away from Cleo. “Beauty is pain, Joan. Didn't your mother tell you that?” Silence grew between the two. “Oh sh*t. I’m sorry. That was out of line.” Cleo apologized, trying to sound sincere. Joan shrugged. “It’s whatever.” They stayed in silence while Cleo added thick black eyeliner on Joan’s top lids.

“I usually hate my birthday, you know? I’ve cried on every single one.” Joan sadly laughed, and Cleo finally felt the guilt begin to rise in her gut. sh*t. “This year I’m finally excited. I just really wanna say thank you for this, and I’m sure it’s gonna be really great. I think it’s fun we’re kinda getting dolled up, yeah?” Joan smiled, and Cleo’s expression remained stone cold.

“Yeah. You’re welcome. You’re really lucky to have JFK. He put a lot of effort into this.” Cleo tried to hide her strained expression, and felt even worse when she saw Joan was too happy to notice. “He’s the greatest. I can’t wait to see him tonight.” Joan continued to smile to herself, and Cleo’s once excited feeling totally disintegrated.

“Yeah, you wanna head over now?” Cleo asked, suddenly feeling defeated. Joan excitedly nodded like a young girl, and Cleo felt the internal guilt filling her insides. Speaking of queens, she was royally f*cked.
As Joan toyed with the final kinks in her hair before they left, Cleo nervously texted Abe.

C: the more i think about it, this is a really really really bad idea. i think we’ve crossed a line here, abe

A: i think we’re fine. seems like everyone’s here so bring her over. i’ll get everyone to hide in 10 minutes.

C: abe i really don’t know about this.

A: grow a pair, cleo. it’ll be over (and so will they) before you know it :)

“Hey, you ready to go?” Joan asked as Cleo just slowly nodded. They walked downstairs to be greeted by a happy Toots. “Jo, you smell lovely! That JFK has great taste!” He reached to hug her, and unsuccessfully hugged the side of the couch. Joan didn’t say anything. “Thank you, Toots! I’ll see you later tonight!” Joan watched him squeeze the couch a little tighter.

“You stay out as long as you want, princess. You’re the birthday girl!” He shouted, Joan wincing slightly from the noise. “See you, Toots.” Joan blew him a kiss and didn’t even mind that he wouldn’t see it. It was really the thought that counts.

Cleo managed to score her foster mom’s car for the night, and took her time starting the car. Joan seemed to be oozing with excitement, and Cleo felt the complete opposite. They rode to JFK’s in silence, Cleo feeling her phone buzzing his back pocket. She knew it was Abe badgering her about them being late but she didn’t care. She was starting to feel really terrible at the situation she and Abe concocted.

When they reached JFK’s street, Cleo decided to keep going. “Hey, you missed the turn!” Joan whined, looking back at the street. Cleo remained silent for a moment. If she kept going, her and Joan could build a nice friendship together. She could pin the whole thing on Abe. They could both hang out with JFK, and maybe he would realize that Cleo isn’t too bad, and they can be best friends.

“Hello!?” Joan exclaimed. “Where are you going?” Cleo remained silent and pulled over. She pondered her options. Strengthen her relationship with Joan and build one with JFK, or burn a whole bunch of bridges.

“Sorry, I’m just a nervous driver. Let me turn around.” Cleo pulled the car in reverse, earning a confused laugh from Joan. They continued the drive in silence. Cleo decided that she was a queen. And queen’s don’t need friends.

They pulled into JFK’s driveway, and Joan seemed blissfully ignorant of the cars littering his driveway and street. A couple of cans were already littered on the lawn, but blended in with the decorations. “Ooh.” Joan squealed. “The house is dark. I knew he would go with the whole surprise thing.” Joan scurried up to the front door and Cleo dreadfully followed. She knew she had made a mistake. But she was getting what she wanted.

But was this what she wanted?

Joan opened the door to the dark house. “Jo!” A voice exclaimed in the darkness. JFK staggered out from behind a couch. It was noticeable he was already wasted. “Get a load of this baby!” JFK flicked on the lights and a sea of people jumped out from behind couches, tables and even lamps.

Cleo watched Joan’s face turn white as a sheet. “Here you go, baby! Happy uh, birthday!” JFK shouted, and people all screamed “happy birthday” behind him. Joan remained silent. JFK opened his arms for a hug, but Joan shoved him. “What the f*ck is wrong with you.” She flatly murmured, marching upstairs. JFK’s happy expression instantly faded.

“What the hell is uh, wrong with her?” JFK growled, marching over to Cleo. The party guests had continued drinking, some even mumbling about how ungrateful Joan was. “I don’t know. I really don’t.” Cleo lied, eyes brimming her tears with guilt. “I’m gonna go talk to her.” She whispered and JFK pushed her back. “No. Go f*ck yourself. I’m uh, gonna go talk to her.” Cleo watched JFK march upstairs, and she silently remained by the front door.

“Cleo! We did it! I think we broke them!” Abe happily exclaimed, taking a sip from the beer can he had in his hand. He offered Cleo one, and she blankly continued to stare at the floor. “I…. I can’t be here.” She took a deep breath and turned to the front door. “I’m sorry, Abe. I really can’t.” She rushed out of the house, Abe following behind her.

“Cleo, please stay. Have a drink with me!” He shouted, reaching out to her. Cleo raced to the car and struggled to breathe. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks and her heart rate began to fluctuate.

Maybe she did need a friend. Right now would be a great time to have one.

Chapter 8: brighter than the blue sky

Chapter Text

Thoughts flooded JFK’s head. It felt like he was drowning. Alcohol was rushing through his veins and he felt like he could burst with anger. He did exactly what Joan wanted. He primed and planned and shaped one of the best parties this town had ever seen. Except Joan. Joan couldn’t see it for some f*cking reason.

JFK stumbled through bedroom to bedroom upstairs searching for his lost girlfriend. He tried calling her name and didn’t hear anything. Not even her crying. He eventually noticed that the bathroom door was closed, leading him closer to Joan.

“Jo? Are you er uh, in there?” He called, earning nothing in response. He did hear the tap shut off, so he knew somebody was in there. “Jo, please come and come uh, down to the party. I- i uh, spent a lot of time and, and money on this.” He slurred, leaning against the wall. Joan still didn’t answer back.

“I- i can’t believe you’re uh, doing this. I knew this would f*cking happen. I knew it.” JFK growled. “You’re uh, so ungrateful, Joan. I plan this uh, whole party and you wanna spend it hiding in the bathroom. Is it uh, because Abe’s not here? He got you, uh some stupid f*cking book we already read.” JFK snarled, banging his hand against the door.

“But I guess he still uh, still knows you better than I do. Maybe he would’ve thrown a better f*cking party. He can uh, be my f*cking guest. I’m really uh, disappointed. God f*cking damnit, Joan!” JFK slurred, throwing his empty can on the ground. “What did you want to do tonight instead? Sit alone inside with your er uh, two stupid friends? I’m just uh, trying to make you happy!” He exclaimed.

“Happy f*cking birthday.”

He stumbled back downstairs, leaving Joan alone in the bathroom. Inside, hot tears were rushing down her cheeks as she leaned against the medicine cabinet. This was her worst nightmare. Joan liked small and concise. Joan didn’t like booze, or the scent of weed that had started to waft under the bathroom door.

She just wanted her and her boyfriend. She couldn’t believe him. She told him she wanted something small. And he did what he wanted to do because last weekend he was wallowing in his own pity that no one invited him out. So JFK did what he wanted to do and brought the party to him. Joan grit the teeth at the thought of him chugging another beer downstairs.

She hated when he was drunk. He was someone different, and Joan heard that person outside the door moments ago. She had planned to camp out in the bathroom for the rest of the night, until everyone left and JFK blacked out in the living room. She would sneak out the front door, and- and-

Joan couldn’t even see past that point. The thought of the future right now seemed so far away. Impossible, even. She tried dialing Cleo a few times, but every single call went to voicemail. The tap dripped loudly behind Joan, but it didn’t cover the loud music and screaming downstairs. Joan decided to turn and face the mirror, and she studied her makeup. It was sloppy and tear stained.

It wasn’t her.

She reached into the cabinet and grabbed the small makeup bag she left at JFK’s, and pulled out the makeup remover. “I’m better than this. I’m better than him.” Joan mumbled, rubbing the makeup off her eyes. She was so sick and tired of the games JFK was playing with her. The whole “Cleo and Abe are out to get us” thing was getting old, and maybe instead of focusing on that he would’ve been able to throw a decent f*cking party.

“I don’t deserve this. It’s my f*cking birthday.” Joan spat, applying her usual eye makeup instead of the sh*tty job Cleo did. Joan thought she would spend the night in the bathroom, but she was better than that. She was not gonna let JFK win. She was not gonna let him get wasted and sleep with one of the brontë sisters. Joan suddenly felt empowered, like she owed herself something.

She fixed her top and adjusted her skirt. Joan knew she looked attractive. She was ready to shove that in her about to be ex boyfriend's face. JFK was right. He didn’t know Joan. He knew the idea of Joan. He was falling in love the moment, and not her. Joan knew she could never love him. She felt like he was thinking the same thing. Joan didn’t even want him as her boyfriend.

“He was just a distraction. You don’t need him.” Joan mumbled to herself, beginning the descent downstairs. “He probably did this to impress Cleo, or another one of those bimbos. He is just using you for sex, Joan. You should’ve known this.” She continued under her breath, beginning to earn glares from the other party goers. She walked over to the table of booze and poured herself half a red solo cup of vodka. She filled the other half up with whiskey, and in the corner of her eye, she saw JFK by the pool talking to Virginia Woolf.

That asshole.

Joan tightened her grip on the cup, and marched outside. She ignored the influx of eyes, and took a deep breath. She could do this.

“Hey Jacky Boy!” Joan announced, JFK leaning away from the other girl. “Hey Jo! I’m uh, glad you finally came down!” Joan noticed there was surprisingly no malice in his voice. “I was just talking to Virginia about-“ Joan immediately cut him off. “I saw. You’re a f*cking asshole, you know that?” Joan barked, causing JFK’s eyes to widen. “W-what? Why?”

Before he finished, Joan threw her co*cktail of vodka and whiskey all over him. “What the f*ck, Joan! I uh, spent all night doing my hair and you’re so lucky I
didn’t change my sweater!” JFK uttered, wiping the drink from his face. “Is that all you care about? Yourself?” Joan angrily threw her cup on the ground.

“You know, Kennedy. For someone who’s all big on change or whatever, you’ve really just remained a selfish bastard.” Joan continued. “And you never learn. You killed your BEST friend because of your selfishness.” Joan noticed that the whole party was watching, because she saw them wince at her Ponce comment.

She couldn’t even look at the pained expression on JFK’s face.

“I guess you’ll just never f*cking learn. Because you just lost me too.” Joan didn’t even process what happened because before she knew it, she had pushed JFK in the pool. The crowd of teenagers groaned, and JFK immediately popped up from the water.

Joan could hear him struggling to say “Jo, Wait!” but she just kept walking away. “Joan, over here!” Joan was about to walk out the front door before she saw Abe on the stairs. He waved her over, and deciding she had nothing else to do tonight, she walked over. “Here, let me get you upstairs before JFK sees.” Abe whispered, grabbing Joan’s hand and leading her upstairs.

He had led her to JFK’s parents’ bedroom, and out through the window. The roof was flat, so Abe went out first and helped Joan over the windowsill. Abe heard JFK calling Joan all over the house, and he shut the window behind them. The two sat in silence for a moment, just taking in what had just happened.

“That was really cool, by the way.” Abe laughed, killing the silence. “That asshole deserved that. Someone finally needed to put him in his place.” Joan remained quiet, and only gave him a small smile in return.

“It’s been a while, since it was just you and I.” Joan muttered, running her fingers through her hair. Abe inched closer to her, and Joan didn’t back away. “Yeah. You’ve been busy with your new man.” Abe joked, and Joan laughed quietly. “My old man now.” Joan’s voice became stern, but then she sighed. “I think I went out of line. He was just being selfish, and he believes everyone is out to get him. But he really does mean a lot to me.``

“Are you sure?” Abe asked. He looked at her for a second, and she burst out in tears. “I don’t know.” She cried, putting her face in her hands. “Jesus, Joan. Please don’t cry.” He wrapped his arms around her, and she sobbed in his shirt. “I really f*cked up, Abe. I ruined us. And now he’s gonna be mad, and ruin me. He’s probably on his way back to Cleo already.” Abe tried to hide his smile. He did it.

“You deserve better than him.” Abe began. “He doesn’t know you like I do.” Abe bit his lip. It was finally gonna happen. “No I don’t. Abe, I like him so much. I was just scared and-“ Joan was cut off by Abe trying to kiss her. “Woah! What the f*ck are you doing?” Joan pushed Abe away, and he gripped the roof so he wouldn’t lose his balance. “Uh, you were the one leading me on?!” Abe yelled. “I wasn’t! I was confiding in you! I wanted to try and rebuild our friendship, Abe. But I guess I can’t do that.”

Joan stood up, and shook her head at Abe. “You’re a loser, Lincoln.” She began to open the window and saw the bedroom door just open. JFK stormed in and saw Joan at the window. “sh*t.” Joan mumbled, moving away from the window. “Joan! What is going on? Can you uh, please come inside?” He asked, and then his eyes glanced to Abe, and back to Joan.

“Are you crying? What the f*ck did that er uh, asshole try to do to you?” He growled, trying to not pounce out of the window. “JFK stop. I’ll come inside. Don’t do anything to him.” Joan climbed back inside and tried to block the window. “I’m gonna go out there and uh, beat the everloving sh*t out of him.” JFK tried to jump out the window, but was restrained by Joan. No, you aren’t.” Joan then grabbed his arm, and tried to hold him back.

“He’s just confused. He probably didn’t mean it.” Joan tried to restrain JFK, but he was stronger than Joan thought. “Mean what? Jo, what did he do to you?” JFK asked.

“He tried to kiss me.” Joan began to close the window and saw JFK’s eyes turn red. “That’s it. I’m gonna f*cking kill him.” Joan slammed the window. “No! You’re drunk, and you’re gonna hurt yourself.” Joan continued to try and block JFK from attacking Abe. “Actually, you know what. I’m going home. Beat him to a pulp. See if I care.” Joan tried to hide the tears welling in her eyes.

“No. We have to talk. I uh, need to take you somewhere and show you something.” JFK grabbed Joan’s hand and tried leading her downstairs, but she pulled away. “You’re drunk.” Joan spat, rolling her eyes and walking away. “Only a l-little. I sobered up, I swear.” JFK stuttered. “But I mean what I say. Please, you’re one of the uh, best things that’s ever happened to me. I uh, don’t want to f*ck this up. Please.”

Joan signed, and unwillingly followed JFK downstairs. “Gandhi, please make sure uh, no one wrecks the joint and everyone’s out by 1. Thanks buddy!” JFK shouted to Gandhi, who was chugging the keg. Joan knew tonight was gonna be longer than she wanted. JFK
grabbed his keys, and Joan took a deep breath. “I don’t know if I want you driving.”

JFK tossed the keys at her. “Fine. You can uh, do it then.” JFK walked to the passenger side of the car. “Fine. I’ll do it then.” Joan mumbled, getting in the car.
They drove together in silence, with JFK mumbling the directions everytime they reached a street sign. After 20 minutes of driving, they reached a dead end. “Are you gonna kill me?” Joan asked, voice monotone.

“The way uh, tonight’s going- possibly.” JFK got out of the car and grabbed the small black bag that was placed on the floor of the passenger. Joan wearily followed JFK into the brush of the dead end, and it threw them out at an empty beach. Joan knew exactly where they were.

EX beach was the place to be when they were younger. Most of Joan’s summer days were filled with hot beach days, cool ocean water and freezing ice cream. It stopped when she was in seventh grade and some kid got eaten by some sort of aquatic creature. It was a really sad end.

The cold air nipped at her face but she was able to ignore it. It was a good cold. Not too freezing. “I figured you had to get out of there. You uh, obviously weren’t having the best time.” JFK joked, and Joan ignored him. She just sat down in the sound and stared silently out into the ocean.

“I have uh, a couple of things to say to you, I guess. You dumped me, but I have a couple things I uh, want to get out of the way first.” JFK sat down next to Joan and began to root through the black bag he had next to him. “I got you a couple of birthday presents. I couldn’t uh, decide on just one.”

The first thing he pulled out was a dark pink striped sweater with a black embroidered “J” in calligraphy in the top right corner. “I know you uh, really like my red sweater. You uh, always say how soft it is. So I know you uh, really like this color and I wanted you to have your, uh, own. It has a J in a corner.” He handed it to Joan. “It’s getting uh, a little cold. You can put it on, only if you want. I guess.”

Joan didn’t want to admit defeat, but he was right. The more she calmed down and sat still the air got chiller. “So, I was uh, talking to Virginia at the party tonight about this. I couldn’t decide what one you would, uh, like the most. So I uh, got three.” JFK handed Joan ‘A room of one’s own’, ‘The Lighthouse’ and ‘The Waves.’

“I knew you uh, haven’t read these before. I wanted to make sure of it. I noticed you uh, never talked about her.” JFK weakly smiled and Joan tried to keep her composure. She didn’t know if she was going to break out into tears or laugh out of anxiety. It felt like a gamble. “I also picked up one last thing.” JFK grabbed a small black box out of the bag.

“I did uh, some reading on my clone dad or whatever. Apparently he was irish or something, and uh, this is apparently big over there.” JFK opened the small box and showed Joan the small but elegant claddagh ring. “You’re uh, supposed to wear the heart facing inward if you're with a stud. If not, you wear it out. I uh, don’t care what you do with it.” JFK handed her the small box, and the black bag.

“One last thing before I take ya home.” JFK pulled a piece of paper out of his back pocket. “I uh, I know I sound like a nut. But tonight was not my fault.” Joan rolled her eyes. “Joan, I really think Abe and Cleo are tryna break us up.” JFK showed Joan the piece of paper with dates and time stamps. Joan felt proud of him. I guess some of that studying paid off.

“It all started with the movie night thing. Gandhi told me they followed us, and I uh, even asked Van Gogh and apparently he was bribed. Then uh, when I beat that asshole Ceaser up, Cleo uh, came into the bathroom and told me you wanted a huge party. I said you wanted something small but she pleaded I have a uh, surprise party for you.”

And all in a moment, it clicked for Joan. He was… right. And she spent all this time denying it and blaming him and calling him crazy, and he was right. Guilt waved over her body, tears flooded to her eyes and she felt like her heart shattered. She trusted Cleo, hell she trusted Abe.

“I’m not asking you to believe me, or uh, we don’t have to get back together. Whatever makes you happy.” JFK looked out to the ocean, and when he looked back to Joan, he noticed the tears streaming down her eyes. “Hey, hey.” He cooed, wrapping his arms around her. “No need for that.” Joan continued to cry but climbed into his lap and sobbed on his shoulder. She ignored the dampness from the whole pool fiasco, but she thought she technically deserved it for pushing him in the first place.

JFK ran his fingers through her hair for a moment, whispering sweet nothings and kissing the side of her head. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Joan cried, burying her face farther into JFK’s shoulder. “I’m not mad, doll. I uh, would’ve done the same thing if I uh, thought you threw a big party on purpose. I knew something felt off about the whole thing, I uh, just wanted to make you happy.”

Joan cried harder and JFK continued to try and calm her down. “This uh, isn’t gonna fly with me. It all kinda clicked for sure when uh, Abe took you on the roof. I knew he had some sick ulterior motives.” JFK began, sighing. “I’m not gonna let them hurt you like this.”

Joan pulled away from JFK. “Why are you being so nice!” Joan exclaimed, struggling to wipe tears from her eyes. “You should hate me. I embarrassed you. I was such a bitch. Planned party or not I should’ve been happy!” Joan sobbed as JFK pulled her closer. “It’s not your fault, princess. You uh, just had something in mind and it didn’t work out. I uh, would be upset too. Cleo’s lying also certainly didn’t help.”

Joan’s cries had softened a little, and she had cuddled closer into JFK’s chest. She felt like she could just melt into him. “I’m sorry about what I said about Ponce. That was out of line.” Joan apologized as JFK remained silent for a moment. “He forgives you.” JFK laughed as Joan sighed. She had forgotten about his weird little ghost thing.

“I can’t believe this. I should’ve listened to you.” Joan tried not to burst into tears again. “Hey, it’s okay.” JFK confirmed, holding her close. “We’ll uh, figure it out.” He kissed her forehead, and they sat in silence. “You should hate me.” Joan mumbled into JFK’s neck. “You’re uh, too perfect for that. It’s uh, not your fault.”

Joan felt JFK reach over to her and grab the small black box near her. He opened it up and grabbed the small ring. “Give me your hand.” He whispered softly, and Joan placed her hand into his. He slid the ring on with the heart facing in. “You’re all mine.” JFK smiled at Joan, who wanted to continue sobbing.

“I shouldn’t be. I pushed you in a pool. Who does that?” Joan laughed, noticing JFK shiver. “You look like you’re gonna turn blue! It’s freezing out.” She continued, rubbing his shoulders to warm him up. “I’m fine, ya er-uh, don’t need to worry about me.” JFK reassured her.

“You uh, wanna check one of those books out?” JFK asked, causing Joan to grab “The Waves.” “We can start reading it now if you want.” Joan shrugged as JFK smiled. “We definitely should.” JFK welcomed Joan into his grasps once again as she leaned in his lap. He softly positioned his head above Joan’s shoulder.

Joan opened the book and cleared her throat.

‘The sun had not yet risen. The sea was indistinguishable from the sky, except that the sea was slightly creased as if a cloth had wrinkles in it. Gradually as the sky whitened a dark line lay on the horizon dividing the sea from the sky and the grey cloth became barred with thick strokes moving, one after another, beneath the surface, following each other, pursuing each other, perpetually.’

Chapter 9: kinda wish she were dead .

Chapter Text

If you were a waiting room, I would never see a doctor,I would sit there with my first aid kit and bleed.

The loud waves that crashed on the shore vibrated the sand. The sun had just begun to rise and the cold air was starting to fade into a warm spring morning. Joan tiredly opened her eyes to see the tide had begun to come in and was slowly inching closer to her and her asleep boyfriend. “Jack, baby.” She whispered, brushing his cheek. He shook his head and turned to face away from Joan. “5 more minutes.” He mumbled and Joan bit her lip to hide a smile.

“Suit yourself. You’re gonna be soaked in like five seconds.” Joan laughed, standing up. She watched JFK groggily open his eyes and look at the rising water. “What time is it?” He asked, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t know, my phone died. Probably six or something.” Joan answered, grabbing her black bag of presents from JFK. “We should probably go home though. Gandhi most likely did more damage than you wanted.”

JFK ignored Joan and wrapped his arms around her back and kissed her neck. “My home is with you.” He whispered as Joan tried to keep her composure. “That’s lame.” She laughed as JFK pouted. “You’re uh, really mean.” Joan turned around and laid a soft kiss on his lips. “Was that mean?” She mockingly asked as JFK shook his head. “That’s what I thought.”

They walked hand and hand to the car together as the sun slowly made its way up in the sky. “You wanna grab breakfast or something?” JFK asked, unlocking his car. “Sure. We can do whatever-“ Joan was suddenly distracted by another car in the vacant lot. The car looked exactly like Cleo’s.

“Hey, does that look exactly like Cleo’s car or am I losing it?” She asked, pausing in the middle of the parking lot. “I think you’re just tired. There’s uh, a lot of the same cars in this neighborhood.” JFK reassured her, but Joan couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in her chest. “I don’t know. I think I’m gonna check it out. I didn’t see her when we left the party last night.” Joan took a deep breath and cautiously walked over to the car.

“Cleo?” Joan whispered, tapping on the window. She felt her breath robbed from her when her eyes laid on what seemed like lifeless Cleo. Joan felt hot tears begin to slide down her cheeks. “JFK! Get over here now. Now please.” Joan mumbled, looking at JFK. “What? What’s wrong?” He asked, rushing over. He peeked in the car window and Joan watched his face turn pale. “f*ck.” He whispered, rushing over the driver’s side of Cleo’s car. Joan felt frozen which made her feel helpless. She couldn’t take her eyes off the blood dripping all over the car. “It’s locked.” JFK continued to tug at the door and took out his phone to call 911.

Joan, in a moment of pure adrenaline, tried to punch through the passengers window. “Yeah, we’re at EX beach. We uh, don’t know how long she’s been here but there’s a lot of blood and it looks uh, new. Please hurry.” JFK looked up to see Joan angrily continuing to punch the window. “Jo, stop!” He yelled, causing more tears to pour down Joan’s cheeks. “I have to be with her! She can’t be by herself!” Joan cried as JFK pulled Joan away from the car. “You can’t break the glass. It uh, could get all over her and hurt her more. JFK tried to calm Joan down but her breathing continued to accelerate.

“What if she’s dead in there? What if it’s too late?” The thought of Cleo’s being alone in her last few moments caused Joan to break out of JFK’s type grasp and continue to try and break the window again. She punched harder over and over again, causing her knuckles to bruise and bleed. “Jo, please calm down.” JFK took off his sweater and wrapped it around his own fist, and slammed into the passengers window. The glass shattered, and he was able to open the door from the inside. Joan didn’t even try to avoid the glass, she just climbed in and laid two fingers on Cleo’s neck. There was a slight pulse, and Joan let out a sigh of relief.

“You’re gonna be okay, Cleo.” She cried, eyes averting away from the bloody mess. Joan could hear the sound of the ambulances ringing but she ignored them. Joan grabbed Cleo’s weak hand and intertwined their fingers together. “Y-you’re gonna be okay. I promise I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.” Joan felt a hand on her back, and looked up to JFK. “You’ve gotta get out of the car, doll. Those uh, officers are gonna throw you right out of the way.” Joan shook her head in deviance. “Then let them. There’s no way I’m leaving.”

JFK was in his own trance of shock, trying to swallow down the nausea he had from the absurd amount of blood. He was also trying to choke back his own tears and was trying to keep his composure for Joan. He did love Cleo once, and his heart hurt knowing she ever felt this way. He couldn’t imagine a world without her.

The ambulances and police cars arrived to the scene, followed by nervous homeowners off the beach awakened by the ruckus. “Sir, I’m gonna need you to step away from the vehicle.” A deep voice bellowed as JFK only looked to Joan. “I’m trying to support my girlfriend right now.” Emt’s rushed to Cleo’s side and began to usher her out of the car.

“Jo, you’ve gotta let go.” JFK tried to coax Joan out of the car but she just shook her head. “No. No, I can’t leave her.” Cleo was placed on a stretcher and Joan pushed JFK out of the way and followed her to the ambulance. The same officer who told JFK to move blocked Joan’s entrance into the ambulance. “I’m her sister. I have to go with her.” Joan cried as the officer shook his head. “Immediate family only and I would have to see I.D to confirm that. And you look like you’re too young to even have a driver's license. So no, I’m sorry. Her wounds are so extreme she’s heading straight to the ICU. You kids can go and enjoy your weekend.”

Joan felt the anger rise in her chest. “No. I’m coming with her or following her. She can’t be by herself.” Joan watched the ambulance doors slam and the car begin to rush away. “If you follow her, the ICU won’t let you unless you’re immediate family and we’re working on contacting her mother. The best luck you two will have is possibly going later tonight if-“ The officer paused. “If what?” Joan growled. “Are you just not telling us because we’re ‘kids’, right? I’ll show you kids-“ Joan felt JFK firmly grab her arm. “Uh, thank you, officer.” JFK admitted defeatedly. “Jack, we have to follow her.” Joan muttered, voice breaking.

“We’re gonna go back to your house, we’re uh, gonna clean you up and calm you down and then we can go to the hospital.” JFK coaxed her, rubbing her back. Joan could feel more tears well in her eyes. “I- i can’t. I can’t see her- our room. Her mom and Toots and-“ JFK cut her off. “We can go to my house.” Joan took one last look at the shattered window of the car and watched the remaining police officers put up yellow crime scene tape.

Joan silently got into JFK’s car and looked at her bloody knuckles and scratched up legs. Once the adrenaline faded, the pain began to appear. “I’m scared.” Joan whispered as JFK nodded. “Me too. But uh, you know Cleo. She’s strong. She’s gonna be okay.” JFK tried his best to reassure her but Joan remained doubtful. “What if she’s not?” JFK stared emotionless at the road ahead of him.

“I uh, don’t know, Joan.” Her name sounded different when he spoke to her so sternly. It sounded like he was talking to someone else. “I don’t know.” He whispered, sighing. The rest of their car ride was silent. Too many thoughts were racing through Joan’s head. She felt like she should be blaming herself for something. But one part of her was trying to convince her she didn’t even do anything, and how was she supposed to know Cleo was even feeling that way? For the most part, Joan felt numb. And she didn’t know if that was good or bad.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” JFK mumbled under breath as he pulled into the driveway. Cans littered the front lawn and Joan could tell JFK wasn’t in the mood to deal with cleaning up an extreme mess. “What was I uh, thinking putting Gandhi in charge?” He quietly laughed, looking at Joan. She tried to fake a smile, but it just didn’t feel right.

When they opened the front door, the mess wasn’t that bad. In a better sense, it could’ve been worse. Gandhi was blacked out on the couch with a post-it note that read “thanks jfk” stuck on his forehead. “I uh, guess it’s good everyone’s thankful.” JFK kicked away some of the red solo cups to make a pathway to the upstairs. “I’ll help you clean it.” Joan tried to pick up some of the cups, but winced at the sudden pressure in her wrist. “Yeah I uh, don’t think so, missy.” JFK nodded to the stairs and Joan groggily made her way up them.

“I’m gonna uh, run you a nice hot shower and clean you up. You uh, should probably get some shut eye, too.” JFK opened the door to his room, and prayed it wasn’t already occupied by some horny teenage couple. Luckily, it was just like how he left it. “You should let me help you clean up. What if your dads come home?” Joan meekly asked. “They won’t. They’ll be home tonight uh, at the earliest. Plus, I’ll just get Gandhi to do it all or somethin’.” JFK replied.

Joan sat on JFK’s bed and watched him walk into the bathroom. She felt her heart rate begin to accelerate again. The image of Cleo in the car vividly replayed in her brain, she could still smell the blood and feel the sharp shards of glass poking into her thighs. The thought of Cleo being alone and if Joan had just ignored that gut feeling she had relayed in Joan’s mind. Cleo could’ve died and it would’ve been Joan’s fault. Her breathing started to speed up and she felt lightheaded. Her throat felt tights and she was seeing stars.

“Jack.” She mumbled quietly, slurring. JFK walked out of the bathroom and saw the tears rushing from Joan’s eyes. She was so out of it, she didn’t even realize she was crying. JFK didn’t even say anything, he just rushed to Joan’s side and let her cry into his shoulder. He allowed her to scream into his sweater and hold onto him so tight it felt like he couldn’t breathe. JFK let Joan feel grounded. There was no use asking what was wrong, because he knew.

“Jo, you’ve gotta take some uh, deep breaths.” JFK cautiously told her, running his fingers through her hair. JFK felt Joan beginning to choke on her tears, and tried to detach himself from her. “You’ve really gotta breathe, doll.” JFK looked at Joan’s tear stained face and gave her a soft kiss on the nose. “You’re here. And you’re uh, with me. And we’re okay.” JFK reassured Joan, who replied by wrapping her arms around him. “We’re okay.” Joan repeated, taking a deep breath.

“The water’s getting cold. I’ll uh, get you something to eat if you wanna shower real quick?” JFK softly asked Joan, who slowly nodded. JFK ran his fingers through her hair and took a deep breath of his own. He knew he had to be there for Joan, but he felt like he wanted to scream and cry too. JFK hated feeling helpless, and that’s the only emotion he was feeling at the current moment.

“Everything okay up there? Are you and Joan all good?” JFK hadn’t even made it halfway down the stairs before Gandhi was badgering with questions. “Yes, uh, things are great.” JFK knew he was a bad liar, and even Gandhi could tell. “I heard Joan screaming. Did something happen?” Gandhi trailed behind JFK to the toaster. “Nothing happened.” JFK lied, grabbing two waffles out of the freezer. “You’re literally lying to me right now and it’s very ugly on you.” Gandhi grabbed a frozen waffle and JFK watched him eat it. “You’re uh, very gross and weird.” JFK tried not to gag.

“Listen, I promise if you tell me what happened, I will tell no one. Not a soul.” Gandhi pleaded. JFK was too tired to put up a fight, so he easily gave up. “Something uh, happened to Cleo. She’s in the hospital.” JFK bit his lip. “Oh my god, I have to tell Abe!” Gandhi exclaimed as JFK gasped. “You promised! I swear to god, if you uh, say a word, I will make your life a nightmare.” JFK glared at Gandhi, who put his arms up. “Okay, geez. I’m sure everyone will know soon anyways.” Gandhi tried to grab one of the waffles that popped out of the toaster, but JFK beat him to it. “You say nothing. Got it?” Gandhi rolled his eyes. “Got it.”

“Start cleaning up around here.” JFK pointed to the mess of broken bottles. Gandhi only stuck his tongue out in rebuttal, but began to pick up the trash anyways. When JFK arrived back in his room, Joan was staring blankly out the window, wearing a disguise of JFK’s wardrobe. “It’s a beautiful day.” She sighed, wrapping her arms around her chest. “We could’ve had a picnic or something. Great first day of being seventeen, I guess.” She continued.

“If you uh, want, we can still do that.” JFK handed her the waffles, giving her a small smile. “I don’t know what I wanna do.” JFK watched Joan struggle with holding the light waffle, and noticed her quietly wincing in pain. “Looks like you’ve uh, got a sprain or somethin’.” JFK opened a random drawer in his desk and pulled out a large first aid kit. “Let me see.” He assured, reaching for Joan’s right wrist.

He tried flexing her fingers back and he heard Joan gasp in pain. “Please stop.” She whispered, tears welling in her eyes once again. “Looks like a nasty sprain, dear.” JFK grabbed an ace bandage from the first aid kit. He applied antiseptic to the small cuts that laced Joan’s knuckles, and tightly wrapped Joan’s wrist. “Try not to move it.” He kissed it, and watched Joan’s cheeks light up.

“You’re good at that.” Joan mumbled, sitting back down on the bed. “I’ve uh, had my fair share of abuse from football matches, so I know how to clean up a sprain.” He bragged, puffing out his chest. “Hey, JFK?” Joan asked, looking at him. “Can you just, like, hug me for a second?” She continued. “You’ve really lost all your bark, Jo.” JFK sat next to her on the bed and wrapped his arms around her. “I just need you right now. Today is bad.”

Even JFK couldn’t disagree. Today is bad. He tightly held onto Joan until her breathing shallowed. He knew she was asleep, but he didn’t want the moment to end, so he held on.

He needed Joan to know she was his home, too.

—————————————————

The sun was slowly dimming when Joan reopened her eyes. JFK was fiddling with her hair, and smiled when she saw she had woken up. “You’ve been out for a while.” He chuckled, looking to the clock on his nightstand. Joan wasn’t ready to speak yet, she was more than content with just digging her face farther into her boyfriend’s chest as a reply. The two sat in silence for a moment, the flicker of the candle popping every few moments.

“Whenever you’re ready, we can go see Cleo. She’s okay.” JFK whispered, continuing to play with Joan’s hair. “Can we go now?” Joan perked up, wincing at the growing pressure in her wrist. “Only if you’re ready. We can uh, wait until tomorrow.” JFK spoke with caution, knowing the wound was still fresh. “I want to see her now.” Joan grabbed JFK’s keys and threw them at him. “Okay, love. Whatever you wanna do.”

Joan knew it was the right thing to do. She needed to see Cleo. Joan felt obligated to make sure Cleo felt safe, and that she had someone. Joan knows she’s already ready to forgive Cleo for everything, but convincing JFK was going to be difficult. So many thoughts filled Joan’s head, she had to grip onto the stair railing to make sure she didn’t fall over from the impending guilt.

“Joan, are you sure you’re uh, ready for all this? Having to find Cleo like that had to uh, be terrifying.” JFK rested a hand on her back as he tried to stabilize her. “I have to see her.” Joan took a deep breath and walked slowly down the stairs. Gandhi was still sitting in the living room, which magically looked cleaner than earlier.

“Can I come?” He asked, looking at Joan and JFK. Joan shrugged, and Gandhi smiled. “Road trip!” He exclaimed, earning a glare from JFK. “One more strike.” JFK growled, opening the front door for Joan. “It’s three strikes.” Gandhi whined, skittering out the door behind the couple. “That comment lost you two.” JFK wasn’t in the mood to babysit, knowing Joan was on the brink of a panic attack at any possibility.

The car ride to the hospital was orchestrated only by a humming from the radio. No one really had anything to say. Joan was trying to figure out what she would say to Cleo, JFK was focused on the road and Gandhi was spaced out in his own world. The hospital parking lot was crowded, and Joan noticed some of the cars belonged to their fellow classmates. She felt her stomach twist when she saw Abe’s car.

“He can’t be here.” Joan felt her face beginning to boil. “Who, doll?” JFK looked around the lot, and saw what Joan’s eyes were fixated on. “Gandhi, I’m gonna kill you! I uh, told you not to tell anyone!” JFK barked, walking over to tackle the smaller boy. “I didn’t! I swear to god! Cleo’s like, super popular!” Gandhi put his hands in the air in surrender. “You better not be lyin’, shortstop.” JFK didn’t even catch Gandhi flip him off.

He walked over and grabbed Joan’s hand. “We can do this together.” The couple interlaced fingers and JFK kindly rubbed Joan’s good hand with his thumb.

Joan has hated hospitals as far back as she can remember. Just the smell of the disinfectant and the thought of people dying in there daily just… didn’t sit right with her. The waiting room already looked packed, students from clone high sat in different corners, all whispering. Joan thought it was ironic that last night her whole class was together celebrating her, and now they're waiting to celebrate Cleo. Joan knew that’s how Cleo would want it to be anyways.

The whispers faded in nothingness when Joan and JFK came into view, everyone avoiding eye contact. Joan was aware of the rumors that were probably already flying around, and she wanted to remain in ignorant bliss. But the linoleum lights and the beaming eyes made her fade out into her own trance, and the only thing she could hear was light buzzing and JFK talking to someone.

He was still holding her hand though, rubbing his thumb in circles on her hand. Just a small reminder that he was there with her in the moment. “She’s awake.” JFK whispered, Joan finally snapping back into reality. She swallowed a gulp and took a deep breath. “Great.” She muttered, holding onto her boyfriend's hand tighter.

“She uh, wants to see you. Apparently it’s uh, all she’s been talking about.” JFK smiled at Joan, who could help but return one. “I want to see her too.” Joan knew she couldn’t cry right now. She needed to be there for her friend. But the eyes that were watching her and the ears that were tuned in to her conversation made her cheeks turn red and her eyes hot. “Am I allowed in?” Joan continued.

“I can go uh, ask for ya-“

“I think I should go alone.” Joan interrupted her boyfriend, who’s expression flattened. “Are- are you sure?” He asked, voice wavering with caution. “I think so. Just stay out here.” The couple let go of each other’s hand as JFK looked at Joan with full eyes. “I’m out here uh, if you need me. Please come and get me, Jo. I uh, know you need someone right now.”

Joan’s heart tightened. It felt weird having someone care for so much. “Of course.” Joan blew him a small kiss and he caught it. She bit her lip in amusem*nt, and began what felt like a 4 mile walk to Cleo’s room. The emergency room walls echoed with stern voices and cries, but Joan tried her hardest to tune it all out.

“Ma’am, can I help you?” Joan looked to the side to see a nurse staring her up and down. “I’m looking for my friend, Cleopatra Smith?” Joan asked, digging the toe of her shoe into the ground. “Are you immediate family? We’ve had a lot of people trying to make their way in there today.” The nurse continued to flare Joan up and down. “Yes. We’re- sisters.” Joan lied.

“You think I haven’t heard that 30 time’s today?” The nurse laughed. “I’m being serious. Please just let me see her.” Joan pleaded. “I found her this morning. I just need to make sure she’s okay.” Joan began to choke on her words. The nurse raised an eyebrow. “You’re either a damn good actress or a pathological liar. But I’m gonna believe you.” She looked down the hall.

“Cleo’s in 414.”

Joan thanked the nurse, and speedily walked down the tiled halls. Room 414 had the name “Cleo” written in pink dry erase sharpie with a little heart next to it. Joan felt her heart feel full. She knocked on the door, just in case, and heard a faint “come in.” The door creaked open and Joan saw Cleo laid in a hospital gown. Cleo’s mother was blacked out in one of the guest chairs, probably wasted.

“Joan.” Cleo mumbled. “I’m so sorry.” Joan said nothing but walked over to Cleo’s bed side and carefully wrapped her arms around her. “Please don’t be. I’m just glad you’re okay.” Joan had no plans on leaving Cleo by herself, and Cleo would never admit it but she felt beyond comfortable being in Joan’s arms.

“Thank you.” Cleo whispered, resting her head into Joan’s shoulder. The silence was louder than an answer.

i never grew up with you, and you’re not my waiting room.