V.   destroyed myself just for you

Bridger wanted to be popular. Being the son of the one of the richest men on Figure Eight was pretty much a given in that department but even before Dawson Fitzgerald was known to his peers, his son's only desire was to be loved; to be involved with everything the Kooks did. He wanted to fit in with the social crowd. He didn't everything to keep his reputation at the Kook prince alive even if it meant forgetting the life he had on the cut.

But all the money in the world wasn't enough to make him happy. He didn't think he would ever be satisfied with his life and he hated it. He had everything. Money, a nice house, nice car, he lived on the more fortunate side of the island, and he had the most privilege of anyone he knew. There was a small amount of guilt in him for wishing he didn't have to live that way, that he could just be anonymous.

Was this the life he washed? Getting drunk and high with a bunch of wild teenagers? Before, Bridger would've said yes and that he absolutely loved his party lifestyle. But things were changing. He was changing and it was all because of that godforsaken Summer.

The Kook prince strutted in his blue Polo button down and khaki shirts through the cut. It was obvious that he didn't belong there. He could see the stares from people behind his Cartier sunglasses. He was easily recognized: Bridger Fitzgerald, son of Dawson Fitzgerald, owner of Fitzgerald Pharmacy. He arrived at his destination and walked inside the restaurant to see a hot headed Kiara Carerra behind the counter. "Oh, hell no. Get out!" She seethed when she saw him.

Bridger smirked. "No can do, Carrera. I'm a paying customer." He taunted.

"I'm not serving you," Kiara said darkly, her eyes full of hatred.

He grinned and leaned against the counter to piss her off even more. "That's good since I'm not ordering. I'm here to pick up."

She opened her mouth to retaliate when Mike Carerra came out from the back room. "Ah, Mr. Fitzgerald. Here for your order?" He asked the boy.

Bridger straightened up. "Yes sir, Mr. Carrera." He responded politely. When his back turned, he winked at Kiara, causing her glare to deepen.

Mike came back and handed him a plastic bag that contained two plastic containers. "There you go, son. Forks and napkins are in their as well."

"Thank you, Mr. Carrera. I appreciate it." Bridger said and pulled out a fifty from his pocket. He handed it to the man. "Have a great day."

He smiled proudly. "You as well. Say hi to your dad for me."

"Sure thing." The teenager nodded. He sent Kiara another taunting smile before leaving the restaurant.

As he walked out, he looked down the street and saw Pope and JJ headed toward The Wreck. Panicking, Bridger quickly slid his sunglasses on and walked the other direction to avoid them.

JJ recognized the expensive shoes anywhere and he found himself quickening his pace to inside The Wreck. "Did I just see Bridger Fitzgerald walk out of here?" Pope announced before he had the chance.

Kiara leaned against the counter and responded with an annoyed nod. "Yeah, he's so fucking annoying. I can't believe my dad actually thinks he's a good person." She scoffed.

JJ didn't say anything and slowly walked backwards,  peering outside to see Bridger still walking down the sidewalk in the direction of his dad's pharmacy.

After eating lunch on his break and his shift ended at the pharmacy, Bridger went with Rafe and Topper back to Figure Eught to play golf. He hated golf. He spent the time walking around with them while they played – they were hitting the balls into random
areas on the golf course. "Man, that party was insane!" Topper said with enthusiasm.

Bridger chewed on his tongue.

"I mean my first thought when I did the line was. . . bro, do we have enough?"

His eyes went wide and he lowered his sunglasses.  "You did coke last night?"

Rafe nodded. "He did, and you would've too if you didn't disappear on us!" He pushed his head to the side.

"Yeah man, where the fuck did you go?"

Bridger paused. "I was, uh. . . Throwing up. I think I had alcohol poisoning,"

The eldest of them pulled a face. "If you had alcohol poisoning, you wouldn't be able to stand right now."  He pointed out.

He shook his head. "Spoken like every true alcoholic."

Rafe flipped him off and Topper snorted a laugh. "Hey, you, uh. . . you didn't tell Sarah, did you?" He asked with hesitation.

Rafe lined his ball with the gold club. "Are you kidding me, man? The way she runs her mouth? Hell no." He denied and swung the golf club, hitting the ball all the way to where a couple of men were playing.

"Hey, come on, now!" The old man shouted at them.

"Shut up!" Rafe screamed at them rudely, then rolled his eyes. "Geezers."

Bridger scoffed. "You're such an asshole,"

"When did you turn all soft?"

He glared. "I'm not. I'm just a decent human being."

"Yeah right." Rafe said with an amused grin, not believing him.

"You're as bad as we are, Bridge." Topper laughed and ruffled his curly brown hair.

Bridger frowned slight but pushed his hand away.  "Shut the fuck up." He scoffed again.

"Hey, hey, whoa, whoa, whoa." Rafe interrupted them when he saw something behind them.

"What?" Topper questioned and he and Bridger turned around to see Pope walking up the trail with groceries in his hands. He was delivering.

Bridger knew immediately what Rafe was thinking.  "Let's move on, shall we?" He quickly said.

"I don't think he's a member, do you?" Rafe asked, ignoring him.

"It's alright, let him go. Let's, uh. . . let's go get your ball." Topper stammered, thinking just like his friend.  "Come on."

But the eldest wasn't backing down. "They put a gun to your head, bro." He told him.

"That's fine. It's fine. Let's go."

"Let's get out of here and go to the pool or something."  Bridger agreed.

Rafe continued to ignore them and started walking down the grassy hill in Pope's direction. "Hey Rafe. Rafe! Let's get your ball man." Topper shouted at him again.

"Don't be an asshole, Rafe!"

"Shut the fuck up, Bridger! Jesus!" Rafe yelled, feeling fed up. "Hey, what's up man?" He said to Pope and the Pogue stopped walking. "Hey, how much for one of those beers?"

"They're not for sale." Said Pope with a flat tone of voice.

When he tried walking, Rafe stopped him and held his golf club up to stop him. "Oh, wait, wait, wait. You can just give us one, then, right?" He taunted.

Bridger stood off to the side and watched the interaction with nervous eyes.

"Or you can order one, like everybody else." Pope insisted with a snap and he looked between him and Topper. That's when he noticed the third Kook member standing by himself.

"Listen, wait, wait, wait. You're not listening to me.  Um. . ." Rafe stopped him again. "You've got so many,  bro, and we move for nothing."

"We've got nothing." Topper shrugged. "We haven't got anything. Right, Bridge?"

Bridger refrained from saying anything and just played along. He shrugged. "Yep, empty handed."

"They're not even mine. They're already paid for."

"Already paid for?" Rafe repeated and peeked into one of the bags.

"What the hell?"

"You probably stole em, right?"

"Rafe, dude. Come on." Bridger scoffed.

Instead of saying anything, Rafe took his golf club that he had inside the bag and jerked it back, ripping a hole in the plastic bag and making the groceries fall onto the dirt. 

"What the hell? You owe me for that!" Pope shouted.

Rafe swung the golf club, knocking the bag out of Pope's hand. "Oh! dude, I don't owe you shit, Pogue." He spat.

"Okay, Rafe, you've made your point. Stop." Bridger snapped.

"Quite being a little bitch, Bridger!"

When he started walking closer to Pope, he freaked out and shoved Rafe backwards while still holding the pack of beers. "Buy your own shit!" He yelled out of fear.

"Hey. Come on, man!"

"Pope, stop. It's fine." Bridger said and stepped forward.

"Back the hell off!" Pope shouted at him.

"We just want one of these beers! You can just give us
one—"

Topper started to wrestle with Pope and tried getting the beers. Bridger began to panic and he got angry.  "Guys, fucking stop!"

"You guys are freaking crazy!" Pope exclaimed and Topper threw him onto the ground.

"Shit. Shit, my bad man." Topper laughed obnoxiously.

Pope groaned in pain.

"Pope, you alright man?" Bridger asked, taking a step forward.

But Pope didn't respond. Instead, he struggled to get up and when he did, he swung his fist at Bridger.  "Hey!" Bridger shouted and Topper grabbed him,  pulling him back. "Pope!"

Before he could blink, Rafe swung the golf club onto Pope's back, making him fall to the ground again in pain. Bridger's eyes widened. "Rafe, what the fuck!" He shouted at his friend.

"Hey. Rafe, Rafe! Come on man!" Topper objected.

"Stay down, bitch!" Rafe shouted crazily.

Topper pushed him backwards. "Hey, let's go! Let's go man!"

"What man?"

"Knock it off, Rafe! Come on!"

But Bridger paid no attention to them. Instead, he hovered over Pope. Blood was pouring from his mouth and the back of his head. "Pope! Shit man, can you hear me? Are you alright?"

"Bridger, let's go!" Topper shouted at him.

Rafe let out a battle cry and swung the golf club again, but he only threw it on the ground next to Pope. He started laughing hysterically.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Bridger shouted angrily.

"Seriously, knock it off!" Topper shouted again.

"Pope, can you hear me?" He asked him again but Pope only rolled around in pain.

"We don't want you over here. Got it?" Rafe said to Pope.

"Back off, Rafe." Bridger snapped.

"Let him go, man." Topper repeated.

"Stay off Figure Eight, Pogue." Rafe said again and stood up. "Top, Bridge, let's go!"

Bridger ignored him. He crouched down by Pope again and examined him. "Shit, Pope. I'm sorry." He apologized again with a small crack in his voice.

"Hey, let's go!"

"Bridger, let's go, man." Topper said and grabbed his arm, trying to pull him up.

Bridger pushed him off. "Get the fuck off me, dude."

"We gotta go."

"No!"

"Bridger, get your fucking ass over here!" Rafe shouted.

"I'm sorry, dude." Bridger whispered to Pope and stood up. Topper went to grab his arm again, but he shoved him off. "I said get the fuck off me!" He started walking in the other direction.

"Bridge, where the fuck are you going?" Rafe exclaimed.

"Stay the hell away from me!" He pointed at them and stormed off down the trail. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. He walked farther and farther away until he couldn't hear Rafe's shouts anymore.

His ears felt like they were filling up with water. Racism was something Bridger never experienced. He was a rich white teenage boy who had everything he wanted. He never had to worry about someone hating him because of the way he looked or because of something he didn't have. He had privilege and he knew that. But now, he just felt like a complete and utter asshole.

The Heyward family were good people. Mr. Heyward was a kind, respectful man who did everything for the island. Anything they asked for, Heyward delivered. Pope was a good dude from what Bridger knew about him.

Rafe Cameron was an asshole and Bridger didn't know why he was friends with him. He did, of course, but he still didn't know why.

Bridger went back to his house and ran upstairs to his bedroom, slamming the door shut. He sat on his bed and threw his face into his hands, breathing in and out deeply. He felt like he was loosing his mind.

Bridger wasn't sure what led him to driving all the way to the cut later that day. It was probably the hours he spent in his room going over how much of an asshole he felt for not stopping Rafe. What he did was not okay. Bridger was an asshole, but he didn't consider himself that big of an asshole.

He didn't even know where the boy might be but he somehow knew that he would be at John B's house.  He was right, of course, because when he pulled up to the Chateau, he saw all the Pogues sitting outside. The sound of his vehicle made them turn their heads. "Fuck." Bridger muttered. He hesitated before getting out of his car.

"Hell no!" Kiara snapped and stormed toward him.  "Get the hell out of here!"

Bridger held his hands up. "I'm not here to start anything." He started to say.

"Too fucking late." JJ snapped when he appeared.

"What? Did you come to finish him off? You and your racist friends?" The girl continued to seethe and her eyes filled with angry tears.

"I came here to say sorry."

"Yeah fucking right!" She hissed. John B grabbed her arm to hold her back. "Just get the hell out of here."

Bridger held a dark stare. "I didn't do anything."

"You never fucking do anything, right?" JJ nearly shouted. He looked him in the eyes. "It's never the Kook's fault, right? You just beat the shit out of others because you can? You just hurt others because you can?"

None of the others knew that the argument went deeper than Pope getting hurt.

"Guys!" Pope tried to stop them. He was the civil one of the Pogues. He always had been.

"I just came where to apologize."

"We don't need your apology." Kie snapped.

Again, he glared at her. "Wasn't under the assumption I was talking to you." He snapped.

JJ pointed a finger at him. "Watch your mouth, bro."

"Guys!" Pope shouted, making them stop. His mouth had stopped bleeding but his lip was busted. Bridger could see the bruises starting to form. He looked at him. "Just leave, Bridger."

For the first time, the Kook prince didn't know what to say. He had multiple eyes glaring at him, practically making holes. He tried to keep his cool because he didn't want to start anything but Bridger had a short temper and Kie and JJ shouting at him wasn't helping. "I-I just..."

"Are you deaf? He said leave!" Kiara snapped again.

"Just. . ." He started again and then paused. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a white envelope. He handed it to Pope. "Here."

Pope hesitantly took it, and before anyone could say anything else, the brunette left.

His hands were shaking vigorously, his breathing staggered. It's usually what happened when he was getting angry. Suddenly, he heard heavy footsteps following him. "Let me guess. You gave him money to keep him from going to the cops? How much, huh?"

Bridger rolled his eyes but didn't turn around and continued walking to his car. "You would think that,  wouldn't you?" He said sarcastically.

JJ quickened his pace. He had waited until everyone else went back inside. "You're not welcome here." He spoke firmly.

"I'm gone. don't worry." He suddenly felt himself being shoved. "JJ, back off—"

"That's what you said to him, right? That he's not welcome on Figure Eight cause he's a Pogue?" He spat in anger, "Well guess what? You're not welcome here,  Kook."

"JJ—"

"No, fucking go." JJ seethed and shoved him again.  "You don't get to do that to my friend and just show up like this!"

"I didn't do anything!" Bridger snapped, anger bubbling in his stomach.

"Exactly! You never do anything!"

He shoved him again and the Kook had to bite his tongue. He was angry, beyond angry, but he wasn't going to start anything. Not now. He could see that he was just hurting. "What the hell does that supposed to mean?" Bridger questioned, trying his absolute best to keep from shouting.

"You know what it means." JJ stated in a hurtful tone.

"I really don't but like always, you don't explain yourself."

The blonde Pogue laughed bitterly. "Oh, that's rich coming from you. You just left."

He knew exactly what he was talking about. Bridger took a step forward and glared at him. "I had no choice."

It had nothing to do with the situation with Pope and everything to do with them. It was a conversation Bridger never wanted to have.

At his words, JJ scoffed again. "Everyone has a choice,  Bridges. You chose to leave and pretend like nothing happened. You chose to abandon me."

"That's because nothing happened!"

JJ shoved him again. "Fucking asshole! Get out of here. I hate you!" He screamed in his face.

Bridger blocked his hands. "Stop—"

"I fucking hate you! You ruined my life!" JJ cried out,  his water color eyes glossy.

With another shove, Bridger grabbed his wrists and spun him around, shoving him into his car. They stood dangerously close to each other. His chest rose up and down harshly and he had to keep himself from shouting back. Their eyes stared into each other's in the most hurtful and beautiful way, saying everything they wanted to say while saying nothing at all.

JJ went silent, almost fearful. He, too, was breathing heavily but his expression was cold and heartless; but on the inside, he was screaming. He hated him so much. 

There was so much that Bridger wanted to say. He wanted to tell him to shut the fuck up and that he didn't know anything. To scream in his face that he didn't understand. He had no choice. JJ lived in a fantasy world. His father never showed him love and his mother left him when he was young. He had nothing go for him in life other than the Pogues. Bridger was the one thing that made him feel worthy of a good life.

Then he left. He left him and JJ went off the deep end. Now he was back and he acted like that summer never happened, like what they had was all a dream. It seemed like they were staring at each other for ages but it was only a couple minutes. Bridger finally steadied his breathing. He released JJ and stepped back. He got in his car and drove off with no hesitation.

JJ watched his go with a heavy heart. He felt like ne was drowning all over again and the tears in his eyes finally fell.