Esmeralda Lopez had always thought herself if somewhat of a tough girl. She stuck a knife of wit into those who deserved it, could throw a nasty punch while also being able to patch up a broken nose faster than most people in her entire town could do. Esmeralda had never truly bragged about any of this however, for it wasn't exactly anything to be proud of. She hadn't asked to grow up tough, or have to fight for everything that she owned. In all honesty, Esme would've much rather grown up in a much more peaceful environment, far away from her mother and only with her father that would nourish her with the love she had been deprived of for so long.
But Mario Lopez was gone now, and Esme was all alone once more. Well, not exactly alone. There was her friends, her best friends, the pouges. They had her back when nobody else did, giving her a sense of solace she thought she would never be able to have again. In a way, they healed a part of Esme. Especially Pope, the love of her life. She had never been one to throw that term around loosely, for love wasn't something she hadn't found herself really getting behind. Pope had always been different however. He was her daylight, showing her that love didn't have to be black and white, instead golden. Love with Pope would always be golden.
In the middle of their romance, they had gotten caught up in a treasure hunt in an attempt to locate John B's father. Yet while doing so John B got accused of murder and "died" along with Sarah, they had found the cross, just to loose it, just to find it again only to loose it all. Then they had located Big John, which Esme was ecstatic about, for he was the second closest thing she had for a father. Well so much for that, for he died right before Esme could truly even process the fact that Big John was back. It was almost as if every adult that entered Esme's life either died or left. Mario, Natalia, Ricky. Luna was the only one left, though Esme still believed that she was cursed in some sort of wicked way, for there was a chance Luna may not ever wake up from her coma again. She had tried her hardest not to think of it, for if she did she felt as if she would loose the last bit of sanity she had left.
But how could Esme not? It was all her fault anyway. If she hadn't gotten herself involved in a situation she had no business being in, then Luna wouldn't be fighting for her life in a hospital bed. Or maybe she had woken up, and was in a state of confusion due to the fact Esme was no where to be found. Either way, whichever outcome it was, none of them didn't leave her with a sense of tortuous dread.
Soon after locating all of the gold, the Pouges were on their way back home. Of course, that hadn't been the easiest task in the world, the group being forced to hitchhike on some random boat with some not so nice men steering the ship. Esme couldn't even count the amount of times she almost had to fight men off for trying to take a peek at her when using the bathroom. That, plus the anxiety, was a horrendous combination to have. She wished she was normal, that way none of this would even be happening in the first place.
"Thought I might find you up here." Pope greeted, his hand on Esme's shoulder almost giving her a heart attack. The Lopez girl jumped back, her fists no longer balled up into fists once she saw that it was only the love of her life. He would never hurt her, or intentionally scare her. He was too good for that. Esme slowly lowered down her guard and stared ahead at the ocean once more, which she had spent three hours doing. At first she had been locked down at the bottom of the ship with John B, her arms aching from the amount of time they had been wrapped around him to stop her tears. Then she had been with JJ, who hadn't been any help. Finally, realizing that company was the last thing she needed, Esme found herself on the top of the ship. For once there weren't any crew members watching her every move, or asking her questions about where she had come from.
"Your intuitions were correct," Esme hummed, having yet to make eye contact with Pope as she chewed on the inside of her cheek. She felt so fucking guilty. It was consuming her, eating her up from the inside out. She didn't know if she could survive going back to Kildare, not after everything she's done. "Then again, you did know me for basically my entire life."
"I did," Pope nodded, making sure not to pry too much. Esme hated that, she always did. When she was upset, the only thing Pope knew how to do was slowly ease himself in. Going in too fast would make her seem as if he was pitying her, which wasn't the case in the slightest. "Your skin is turning red, you've been out here for a while."
Esme cursed lowly to herself, glancing down at her skin which was in fact turning a concerning shade of red. Slowly she pressed her fingers against it, letting out a cry of pain once a piece of skin became peeled off. No sunblock, no money or food, and a whole lot of problems. Could Esme's life possibly get more worse?
"Pretty sure touching it wasn't the best idea," Pope winced, wrapping a blanket he had found from the boat around Esme's shoulders. "Maybe you should come back, the sunset is hitting your skin which is only gonna make your sunburn worse."
Going in too fucking fast.
"I'm fine," Esme snapped, her face scrunching up from guilt. Her lips formed into a thin line, not even bothering to glance over at Pope who stared at her with a look of hurt. She didn't understand why. He knew how she got whenever somebody bombard her with questions, he had no right to be shocked. The wind blew against Esme's blotchy cheeks (she cried herself to sleep most nights now, she hopes nobody ever heard. Though, she was about halfway sure Cleo did), a lump forming in her throat as she slowly turned away from Pope. She knew what she was doing, pushing him away so she could be left alone. She also knew that knowing Pope, he was going to push right back until the two of them ended up having no choice but to allow the proximity between them.
It never used to be like this. Once upon a time, when Pope was a lovesick boy and Esme was an oblivious girl, they had been happy. Now, even with the assurance Pope had given Esme on top of that cliff back in South America, she still didn't know what to make of what they had. She was slowly loosing it, as she's come to realize on the time they've been on the boat. For her, there was nothing to look forward to in going home, nothing to smile about when the conversation of Kildare was brought back up. Perhaps the gold, but that was it. Gold couldn't compare to man life however, Esme learned that the hard way.
"I'll just give you some space," Pope whispered, his fingers brushing against Esme's cheek in such a soft embrace her lips almost released a sob. "Cleo's gonna break in and try and steal some food in a little while, if you wanna help her."
Esme didn't want to help her. She wanted to smush her cheek against the uncomfortable cot she was forced to sleep in for the time being and never wake up. Her bones ached with exhaustion and her throat felt raw from screaming to those who never bothered to listen. Esme slowly turned her head to notice that Pope was no longer there, most likely retreating and reporting back to John B about how she was doing. It never offended her that she was being watched. What was offensive was the fact that everybody was now forced to walk on egg shells around her because of it. Esmeralda Lopez wanted to fucking go home.
*********
The sun had long set over the ocean, casting a dark tranquility that Esme found herself enjoying more than anything. Her wind blew against the calm winds as she remained perched at the edge of the boat, a cigarette placed between her cracked and bloody lips (she had been picking at them for the last five hours, creating numerous scabs and scars). The smoke filled her already blackening lungs, not that she found it within herself to care anymore. If Esme was to die, she wanted it to be quick and painless. It was what she deserved after all for all of the pain she had caused others. Pope, Luna, the rest of the pouges.
Esme felt the warm, fat tears ro down her already blotchy cheeks, her lower lip probing as she harshly wiped them away from her face, causing for her seemingly pale features to flush a bright shade of pink. Crying was getting really fucking old, she wanted to feel something different. Esme placed a hand over her chest, feeling the slow thrumming of her heart, reminding her that she was alive, that she was still here to fight another day, as much as she didn't want it. Why couldn't she ever fucking get what she wanted?
"Lung cancer ain't gonna be kind to you, y'know," Cleos familiar voice ring out from behind Esme, the Lopez girl allowing for a dry laugh to escape past her lips as she moved to throw the cigarette into the ocean (Kiara would for sure have a heart attack over this, oh well, none of it mattered anymore anyway). "Pope told me I might find you out here."
"Look at him knowing me." Esme attempted to crack a joke, but Cleo didn't laugh. Instead, she only moved to sit beside Esme who avoided eye contact with her. She felt humiliated and ashamed. She was supposed to be tough, not taking anything from anybody, and now she could barely say a singular word to the pouges without almost breaking down. Into gut wrenching tears. Since consumed ten duo ad they only stated out at the ocean, which Esme appreciated more than anything. She had expected a full on lecture on how she was shutting everybody out and needed to get a grip of herself. But Esme knew Cleo had also experienced enough pain to last her a lifetime, and knew exactly what it was like.
"It's freezing out here, man. Come back inside, yeah? Pope has a blanket waiting for you," Cleo continued, Esme's jaw clicking. And there it was. The slow coaxing, trying to get Esme to return back to her old self. She thought Cleo would've been different, then again, as she's learned, everybody has changed, someway, somehow. The Outer Banks managed to do that to people.
Esme dug her fingernails into her already bloody palms, the pain no longer phasing her as much as it did when she first began the habit. Cleo noticed this, a frown taking over her lips as she slowly reached her hand out, wanting to pull her hands away, to make her feel anything but sorrow and guilt. Esme stepped back within a second however, the wind blowing harsher against their skin, almost as if Mother Nature could somehow sense the energy that swarmed between the tell of them.
This wasn't how Esme wanted it to go. She wanted to be left alone to her own devices and smoke an entire pack of cigarettes in the span of eight hours. Everybody just always had to fucking bother her and make her feel guilt for feeling such a way.
"I'm fine," Esme gritted, her teeth feeling rotten in her mouth from all of the cigarettes. Fuck. She wanted to quit but she couldn't, the toxic sticks being the only thing preventing her from smashing her head against the nearest wall. "Go back inside. I'll be there eventually."
"We're worried, Esme," Cleo was relentless, slowly tilting her head so Esme was forced to make eye contact with her. "Pope told me you're feeling guilty about L—"
"Don't," Esme's sharp voice was enough to cut through a blade, her jaw wobbling. Of course Pope fucking told the pouges how Esme was feeling, what else was new with him? Images of Luna with blood pouring from her lips passed through her mind, her piercing screams for somebody, anybody to call an ambulance lingering in her mind, despite nobody being there. All her fault. All her fucking fault. Stupid Esme, always having to drag yourself into problems that didn't concern you. And now one of your family members was rotting away in a hospital while you rotted away in the middle of the ocean. Jumping inside would make everything so much easier. "Don't start that shit, Cleo."
"Not starting anything," Cleo argued, her eyes narrowed, struggling to figure Esme out under the dim moonlight. "Just want you to come back inside, you're freezing, I can tell."
Esme was in fact freezing, that much was obvious. The cigarette had been keeping her warm for a short period of time but now that it was gone, her body was left to fend for itself once more. Her nose was a bright shade of red from sniffling and rubbing at it so often, goosebumps littered every single inch of her skin, and she swore her teeth were going to fall apart if they chattered any harder against each other. Going inside wouldn't cracked be the worst option in the world, but that option came with bombarding questions she couldn't bring herself to respond to.
Right as Esme could deny Cleo's offer her wrist was firmly grabbed, a shriek tumbling past the Lopez girls lips as she was pulled back to the area the group had been hiding out at, everybody now fast asleep. Besides Pope, who still stood there, wide awake and holding a large blanket. Esme would've punched Cleo if the energy hadn't been depleted from her body long ago. Pope didn't waste any time before wrapping the blanket around her shoulders, pulling her to lay down. She wanted to punch and scream. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. For fucks sake, all she wanted was a cigarette, and she ended up getting dragged right back down to face the world once more.
"Hey there," Esme whispered, nevertheless not being able to take out her bubbling rage out on Pope, for he didn't deserve it. He was much too pure. "The stars were really beautiful."
"I bet," Pope hummed, the questions he wanted to ask Esme getting stuck in his throat. He had finally gotten her in bed, he didn't want her to run off with his clinginess. The two stared at each other for a long moment, communicating without any words being spoken. That was always their secret superpower, as Pope loved to say. They could be in the same room yet feet away, and as soon as they made eye contact they were able to have an entire conversation without saying a singular word.
Esme hesitated before reaching her hand up, gently brushing it against Pope's cheek. She missed him so fucking much, though she had Judd spoke to him hours ago. But that wasn't her, but the much more hollow version of her.
For just a few hours, she wanted to be normal Esme, to lay beside the love of her life and feel his warmth. Her cheek slowly moved to rest on his chest, his heartbeat pulling her into a sleep embrace, yet she knew the peace wasn't going to last forever.
There would come a time when it would come crashing down, just like it always did.
Word count:2,712
a bit late but we're back y'all 😜 over 100k reads?! y'all are the best kiss me rn. rip esme you would've loved the archer, this is me trying, midnight rain, nothing new, castles crumbling, and breathe by taylor swift 😞😞