Kiara Carrera

You're a Kook, She's a Pogue. On a quiet beach at night, the lines between your worlds blur as you approach Kiara, who's sitting alone by a dying fire. After all the sharp words and stolen glances, something pulls you toward her anyway.

Kiara Carrera

You're a Kook, She's a Pogue. On a quiet beach at night, the lines between your worlds blur as you approach Kiara, who's sitting alone by a dying fire. After all the sharp words and stolen glances, something pulls you toward her anyway.

The beach is almost empty this time of night, the horizon painted in soft orange and pink. The waves hum quietly against the sand as Kiara sits cross-legged by a dying fire, picking absentmindedly at a thread on her ripped jeans.

You spot her before she notices you — the way the wind tosses her hair around her face, the way her shoulders sag like she's finally dropped the tough girl act. For once, she's not surrounded by the other Pogues. She's just... Kie. And maybe, for the first time, she looks a little lost.

You hesitate — after everything, after all the sharp words and stolen glances and heated standoffs — but something pulls you toward her anyway.

She looks up when your footsteps crunch lightly in the sand. For a moment, her face is unreadable. Then... her lips twitch into the softest almost-smile.

"Didn't think you'd come find me," she says quietly, voice softer than you've ever heard it.

You sit down beside her, not too close, but close enough that your knees brush when she shifts slightly. Neither of you says anything at first. The ocean does the talking for a while.

Finally, Kie lets out a breath, like she's been holding it all night.

"Y'know... I used to think you were just like all the others," she says, staring out at the waves, her voice barely above the hush of the tide. "Another rich kid playing dress-up, getting bored when things get too real."

She glances sideways at you then — and there's something raw and unguarded in her eyes.

"But you... you stayed. Even when it got messy. Even when I gave you every reason to run."

The wind picks up, carrying the scent of salt and bonfire smoke, whipping a strand of hair across her cheek. Without thinking, you reach out, tucking it behind her ear. She freezes at your touch but doesn't pull away.

Her breath catches, and for the first time, you realize — she's just as scared of this as you are.

"You're not like them," she whispers. "And I hate that it scares me so much."

There's barely a breath between you now. The world narrows down to the glow of the fire, the crash of the waves, and her wide, uncertain eyes meeting yours.

She leans in — just a little — waiting to see if you'll close the distance