Chapter Text
He’d never understood it before. Grief. At least not really. Not completely . Sure, he tried his best to be there for John B when his own father was lost, then officially presumed dead, then officially confirmed murdered . He was there when it happened. Not just as a spectator either. As a comforter. A friend. So after all that, he thought he understood.
But absolutely none of it could prepare him for this. Nothing could.
Pope felt empty.
He thought that that was how he felt after he lost the chance at his scholarship. That the dark regret and anger he was consumed by was what empty felt like. That it was nothing , because he felt nothing good . But now he’d do anything to get that anger back. To feel something properly. Because now he’s just… numb.
He’s looking down mindlessly at the shifting light flickering on his lap as they pass the newly relit streetlights on their drive home, but he’s not really seeing it. And he knows logically that his father’s old beat up pickup truck is purring all around them like a beast as they move but… he can’t feel the vibration. He can barely even hear the sound. He can barely feel the warmth of his own hands where they’re clenched together in his lap. Nothing. Nothing , but—
The warmth of JJ’s arm against his.
He can feel that. He doesn’t remember when it got there, but he can feel it.
Pope finally shifts his gaze to glance at the small inch of space where they connect. They’re both wet and sticky with rain and sweat and grim from the day, and their skin is practically glued together with it. Honestly, JJ’s touch should be revolting right now. They probably both need to shower.
… Pope doesn’t think he could bring himself to shower right now.
He swallows thickly as he moves his gaze back to his lap, to the hands he still has clenched right there.
The car stops.
They’re at his house.
“Alright, son, you and your Mama can go inside. I’ll give you a ride to yours, JJ.” His dad is gently saying the words but it takes Pope a second to recognize them. Honestly, he notices the way JJ stiffens against him at even the very mention of home first. That puts the pieces together. Because he’s always noticed the way JJ braces himself as if going to war at even the thought of going back to his house. The way he does it anyways. Always braver than anybody else. Braver than he needs to be. Braver than Pope is pretty sure he would be in the same situation.
Braver than Pope thinks he should have to be tonight. After everything.
JJ… shouldn’t have to be that brave right now .
Pope flicks his tongue over his chapped lips for a moment, carefully picking his words before he’s saying, “... Is it safe for you to be driving in the storm, Dad?”
His father turns in his seat to look back at him. His mother is already half out of the car and waiting. She doesn’t have a raincoat on. The storm is soaking right through her clothes.
“I’ll manage, son.” His father replies with an arched brow before he’s gesturing to JJ with a nod. “I’m sure JJ’s father is wondering where he is.”
He definitely isn’t. He’s probably high off his ass or drunk off his ass or both . He probably doesn’t even know his son is gone .
Pope’s hands clench in his lap.
Oh. So he’s still got a bit of anger left.
He can feel JJ’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t return the look just in case he wants him to stop. Because JJ’s always out here protecting everybody. Not always… in the best way, but he tries.
Who’s protecting JJ?
“... Can he stay the night Dad? We can call.” Pope offers, and his father gives him that look. That look that already says no before his lips do. But Pope is too tired for that look. Too tired to fight anymore. He feels like he’s spent… the past decade fighting. He just wants to go to bed, and he can feel his shoulders slump with that exhaustion as his dad's gaze shifts. “ Please .”
His father looks between him and JJ and Pope kind of wonders what he sees. What they both look like right now. He can’t imagine it’s anything good.
“Listen, Mr. Heyward, it’s alright, you don’t have to—“ JJ starts, but Pope finally unclenches his hands to grab the arm that’s still against his. JJ stops speaking around the time that Pope’s hand closes around his forearm and that’s when Pope’s mother hits his father on the arm from where she’s poked her head in through the passenger door. His father sighs. It’s a deep, tired thing.
“... Alright, alright. You can stay, JJ. Until the storms over.” His mother hits his father again. Dad’s jaw drops as he gives Ma a bewildered look, but at the arch of her brow he’s adding. “... Sorry. S’long as you want.”
Pope finally turns to JJ just to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid and insist they bring him home. But JJ only nods.
“Thank you, sir.” JJ replies, all respectfully. And it’s real respect too. Pope can tell from the way his jaw clenches. From the grateful gleam in his eyes.
Pope…. never really thought that his dad was anything too special. He wasn’t the kindest man or the coolest or the most understanding. But the idea that he… might be something special to JJ makes him reconsider his perspective.
“It’s no trouble.” His father says gruffly as he opens his own door. Pope glances out the window to find his mother waiting by his door for him. As if his grief is going to make his knees buckle under him like the movies and she needs to be there to catch him just in case. The mental image would be kind of funny if Pope didn’t still have a vivid memory of how he crumpled into her arms just hours ago.
It’s her expectant look that makes him remember his hand on JJ’s arm. He let’s go quickly, gaze flicking to JJ as he opens his mouth to apologize but his father cuts him off. “Now let’s all get out of this storm and inside. We’ll catch our fuckin’ death out here.”
JJ is getting out of the car before him.
Pope is so busy rushing to follow that he doesn’t notice the look on JJ’s face as he glances back at him.
+
“You didn’t have to do that.”
It’s the first thing that JJ says when they’re alone. Pope expected it. He barely acknowledges his words as he moves to dig through his drawers for something for JJ to sleep in. He’s dead on his feet honestly. He would sleep in the clothes he has on now if they weren’t so wet.
“You were going to go home.” Pope replies simply. He’s not looking up but he can feel JJ’s eyes on him again. His back almost feels warm with it. It’s like the warmth of JJ’s body heat in the truck just followed them into the house like a shadow.
“Yeah, cause I have to.” JJ replies just as Pope finds a shirt with only one hole in it and a pair of basketball shorts. He’s never played, but the attire is comfortable.
“Not tonight. Or any time soon for that matter. You heard my dad.” He gets to his feet and moves to give both items to JJ. It’s a second before JJ takes them. Their fingers brush on the trade off.
JJ stares down at the clothes for a moment and Pope stares down at them too for lack of anything else to do. JJ nods a second before he’s turning his back and taking off his wet shirt. Pope doesn’t look away. Instead he studies his bruises. The ones from Midsummers have faded and gone but the one’s from Cat’s Ass are still there on his sides. Yellowing with age but still there. It’s like he exchanged old bruises for new ones. Pope wonders if he can convince JJ to stay long enough that they all completely heal. Long enough that he has no bruises or cuts or anything since… maybe ever.
He’ll have to try. Cause it’s not like he can stay at John B’s anymore, and--
The very thought of his name is like dousing himself in cold water, and the numbness is right there with it. Pope chokes on an inhale, and ends up breathing a bit too fast to compensate. He might be hyperventilating a bit. Right there in the middle of his bedroom.
“... thanks. Y’know for convincing your dad.” JJ is speaking but Pope is barely hearing any of it. He is staring unseeingly at a now clothed JJ when he turns back around. The movement pulls him back to the present and they make eye contact. Pope’s eyes are wet, and his chest is heaving, and JJ’s eyes widen before they soften. “Bro, are you--?”
Pope is shaking his head before JJ can even finish the sentence, because he isn’t. And he knows JJ isn’t either, and that Kie probably isn’t where she’s holed up in her mansion by herself, and John B definitely isn’t, Sarah either--
“... Hey .” Pope misses the bit between JJ being a few feet away from him and him suddenly being in JJ’s arms, but that’s okay. JJ is dry and he smells like the laundry detergent Pope’s mother uses, but most importantly he’s solid. And warm . He has a hand cupping the back of Pope’s head, and another tight around his torso and Pope feels it. He feels it. Pope wraps his arms around him in return after a moment of simply drinking in the comfort and shamelessly clings to JJ like his life depends on it. Hot tears run down his cheeks and soak the shoulder of JJ’s fresh shirt, and it takes a minute for Pope to realize that JJ is crying too. It’s in the shake of his shoulders. In the warm wetness of his breath against the crook of Pope’s neck.
They must be a sight the way they are now. Sobbing and holding each other in the middle of Pope’s too small room. Clinging to each other like children.
Pope tries to convince himself that it’s okay. That grief is ugly.
But he’s not sure anything is ever going to be okay again.