【 dear ex lover 】
abigail laker-quill wore her heart on her sleeves; maybe that's why it was so easy for pope heyward to shatter it.
pope heyward x fem!oc
ex lovers to lovers
obx s1-2
book 1
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chapter five; THAT POOR CLUCKER.
ABBY'S EYES danced around the interior of the Chateau. It was just like she remembered it ━ just like it was two nights ago, when she stumbled upon John B's property ━ and something about the familiarity of it made her heart ache. It pounds and pounds as her hands ghost over the picture frames on the walls, eyes admiring Big John and John B's mother; a stunning woman and a gruff man with steely eyes.
The photos bleed of the past, of greater days before depressing things, and before Big John was washed away at sea. It reminds Abby of her own family; when things made sense. When everything was neat and calm, and her family looked even the tiniest big put together, of which they really weren't.
Considering where John B stands now, she assumes his family was just as much an optical illusion as her own.
Sweet, sickly smiles and kind words; during the day, they grinned and hugged and told the world of their love for one another, but when night fell, so did their foundation. She can see it now; all the cracks and unstable pebbles that bred that faux feeling of protection, warmth, and love.
Their masks were gone, and now, all that remained were ruins.
"Deadbeat assholes, huh?" Abby questions the air ━ but John B knows the question is directed at him. Her tone is cold and dry. Her cheeks are puffy still when she turns to face him, and her eyes are as tired as they were when she was crying. They're blank, and he frowns.
John B leans against the wall, his eyes on the front door where he knows JJ stands, speaking quietly to Pope who demanded a moment alone to get things straight, but Abby and John B both knew that she was the topic of conversation.
He shrugs, "Yeah. She's some Colorado chick now."
Abby hums, "Part-time mother, full-time bitch."
John B's lips tug into a small smile, and he watches Abby silently. She's toying with a random beer bottle on the counter, picking it up and tapping on the sides idly. It doesn't take much to see the consideration written across her features, and John B sighs.
He walks over to her slowly and leans against the counter beside her. His back is pressed against the edge and his arms rest behind him, and his eyes lift to the roof. They land on the ceiling fan and he gnaws on his inner cheek.
"Say it," Abby says slowly. Her voice is quiet, and she avoids looking at John B. Leaning forward against the counter, she begins to spin the bottle back and forth between her palms, "Say whatever is on your mind."
John B doesn't hesitate, "You alright, Abs?"
Abby hums.
She begins to consider it, mind ablaze as she runs through the recent events. Her heart cries out, clenching sporadically as she thinks about everything that's gone on. It's all so overwhelming, and she knows it's wrong that she experienced it. She saw things unfit for a teen, and even some of the most mature adults.
