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Loss is a funny thing. Well, not funny, but… different. It’s not like any other emotion. Everyone talks about how people grieve differently, but no one mentions the different ways that one person can grieve.
JJ was 8 when his mother left.
It was his second day of third grade, and he woke up to his father throwing plates against the wall in the kitchen. One thing you develop after being routinely beat most of your life is great self-preservation skills. JJ had immediately ducked under his bed, clutching his favourite stuffed bear, and tried to be as quiet as possible.
JJ didn’t go to school that day.
When his father had calmed down (read: drank enough) to fall asleep at 3pm that afternoon, JJ left his hiding spot, and found the letter from his mom.
She couldn’t take it anymore.
She was stressed and needed time for herself.
And at the end, almost mockingly, she had wrote in her fine handwriting, “Take care of JJ.”
That was the first time JJ remembers feeling real loss. He wanted to scream and cry, punch a pillow or the wall, but in fear of waking his father, pushed those feelings as far down as he could. There, his anger festered, and was the part of himself that he was the most afraid of.
The part most like his father.
This felt nothing like that.
It felt like nothing.
It felt like floating in darkness, having the darkness consume you, filling your lungs like water.
JJ wished he could feel angry, feel sad, feel something.
JJ and John B had been best friends since before his mother left, and was the only person he trusted in this world, aside from the other Pogues. He loved John B like a brother, like they were attached, and that part of him had been severed with a dull knife.
The drive was anything but smooth, rolling over potholes that had been around longer than JJ, but he didn’t register them.
While JJ floated, drifted away from any feelings, he was abruptly brought back to Earth when he felt someone grab his hand.
Startled, he looked to his left, where his previously-opened and empty left hand was secured in Pope’s, who was looking intently at the back of the driver’s seat, tears falling but eyes empty. JJ was surprised for a moment before curling his own hand around the other boy’s, where they stayed until they pulled into the Hayward’s driveway.
After the car was shut off, Pope moved his hand away to unbuckle and wipe his tears, but JJ’s heart stopped for a moment before doing the same. The warmth from Pope’s slightly clammy hand was the first thing he felt in hours, and all he wanted to do was grab him again.
As he got out of the car, JJ opened his mouth to speak, and had to try a couple of times before any sound could come out.
“Uh, thank you for the ride Mr. Hayward. I’ll walk the rest of the way home. It’s not too far.”
Before Pope’s dad could reply, his mother touched JJ’s arm softly, waiting until he looked in her eyes to speak.
“There is no way we are letting you walk home in the middle of a storm. You can stay here tonight and head back when the weather clears up. We will call your dad to let him know.”
“You don’t have to-“ JJ started, before he was cut off by Mr. Hayward.
“There’s no sense in arguing with her, son. You’re staying here tonight, and I’ll drive you home tomorrow. It’s no trouble at all.”
JJ let out a small “Thank you” before following the family into the house. While Pope’s parents walked ahead to unlock the front door, Pope and JJ walked slower behind, shoulder’s touching, grounding each other.
Both boys made their way upstairs to Pope’s bedroom, with strict instructions from Mrs. Hayward to shower and go straight to bed.
JJ headed to the bathroom first, after Pope all but pushed him there. While JJ showered, Pope busied his mind by walking around his room, picking up dirty clothes off of the floor, grabbing clean clothes for himself and his friend, and grabbing his old sleeping bag to roll out beside the bed for himself. You can call Pope a lot of things, but a bad host is not one of them.
While he finished, he heard the shower turn off, and JJ walked back into the room, a towel around his waist and old bruises yellowing on his torso. Pope stared for a moment before shaking his head and walking to the bathroom. As he walked past JJ, he handed the other boy clean pyjamas and went to wash the terrible day off himself.
After getting changed, JJ was standing in the middle of Pope’s bedroom when the levy broke. All of the emotions he had been missing came flooding at once, and he barely made it to the bed before his knees gave out. Sobs tore out of the teenager, heaving and crying harder than any time his father had beat him.
John B and Sarah were gone, and they were never coming back.
It was all his fault.
If he didn’t give them his father’s racing boat, then they wouldn’t have thought they could survive a fucking hurricane. How could he be so stupid?
JJ didn’t hear the water turn off, or the door opening, but he felt Pope sit beside him, putting an arm around his bruised body, and stroking his hair. JJ turned into his friend, sobbing into Pope’s neck.
JJ had no idea how long he cried for, but when he started to calm down, he realized how exhausted he was. Pope was still running his fingers through JJ’s hair, but he was resting his head on top of JJ’s, his eyes closed.
“I-I’m s-s-sorry Pope. It just, sorta ... hit.” JJ stuttered, moving out of the warmth of the other boy’s grasp. He could see that Pope had been crying too, and, seemingly on autopilot, he wiped the last tear from his cheek with his thumb.
“Don’t be sorry. Tonight has been….unbearable.” Pope replied, also standing. “We should get some sleep. I can’t keep my eyes open.”
Pope walked over to the sleeping bag and began to get into it, when JJ gave him a funny look.
“What are you doing? You’re not sleeping on the floor of your own room. Move over.” JJ said, moving toward the sleeping bag.
“You’re the guest, I’m not having you sleep on the floor. That’s just rude.” Pope replied, standing his ground.
While JJ genuinely didn’t want his friend sleeping on the floor, he was also not excited about sleeping in the double bed by himself. Years of nightmares made it difficult to have that much space, and the loneliness that comes with it.
“Look, I’m too tired to argue. Lets both sleep in the bed. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before. Granted it was after getting shit-faced and crashing a Jo… his place.” Pope stopped himself, looking at the ground before walking back towards the bed.
JJ climbed in on the other side, trying his best to stay to the far side. The last thing he wanted to do was freak his friend out after letting him crash there.
Pope turned off the light and climbed into bed, turning away from JJ and closing his eyes.
“Night, JJ.” Pope said, yawning.
“Night, Pope.” JJ replied, closing his eyes.
JJ woke up surrounded by water, trying to swim in the ice-cold ocean. The salt stung the cut on his lip, and the murky water made it difficult to see. As he got his bearings, JJ saw that he was at the sight where the Royal Merchant had sank.
JJ swam toward the boat, looking into the wreckage. While he snooped around, he turned to see a beige tarp covering part of the floor. Curious, JJ grabbed the corner of the tarp and moved it out of his way.
Staring back at him were two corpses.
John B and Sarah.
JJ screamed, and water filled his lungs. He tried to swim to the top, but the burning in his lungs hurt too much, and the surface seemed just out of reach.
As black started to seep into his vision, JJ heard Pope’s voice in the distance.
He had to make it to the surface, had to see Pope, need to make sure he was okay-
“JJ! Wake up!”
Pope was shaking his shoulder, calling his name over and over again. JJ shook the sleepy fog from his brain, and looked at Pope, whose eyes were clouded with concern and panic.
“You were having a nightmare. Are you okay?” Pope asked, hand moving from his shoulder to his hand, grabbing a little harder than was necessary. JJ appreciated the squeeze. It helped ground him, let him know that he’s awake.
“I’m s-sorry Pope. I d-didn’t mean to wake you up. I’m fine, go back to sleep.” JJ rushed, chest still tight and fresh tears in his eyes.
“No you’re not. Do you want to tell me about it?” Pope asked, laying them both down again, but never releasing his friend’s hand.
JJ explained his dream to Pope, tears streaming down his face and soaking his pillow. Pope listened intently, rubbing the back of JJ’s hand with his thumb. When he was finished, Pope pulled their hands up to his mouth and kissed the back of JJ’s hand. The raw intimacy surprised JJ, but comforted him nonetheless.
“You’re safe, JJ. Nothing is going to happen to you. I promise.” Pope reassured him, eyes never leaving the blond’s.
JJ was overwhelmed, but this time, it wasn’t the sadness that gripped him earlier. It was with the warmth that the other boy was giving, the love he felt in that room.
JJ shifted closer to the middle of the bed, putting his head on Pope’s shoulder and keeping their hands clasped together.
Pope hummed contently before bringing is other hand up to stroke through JJ’s hair again. The other boy sighing at the touch. Both knew the change that was taking place with their relationship, but neither having the capacity to care at the moment. JJ had never felt safer or more at-home then in Pope’s arms, in his bed, and while that scared him a little, it also felt reassuring.
JJ fell asleep quickly, and, for the first time in a long, long time, didn’t have any nightmares. Before sleep took him completely, he felt Pope's lips on his forehead, leaving a quick peck as a sendoff.
Sun shone through Pope’s bedroom window, hitting JJ right in the eye. Grumbling, he lifted his head and looked to check the clock on the table beside the bed.
He had woken up in the same position they had fallen asleep in, and the movement caused Pope to wake up too. JJ new he loved Pope, but morning Pope was something he could get used to. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, yawned, and stretched his long arms. The clock read 10:56AM, and JJ considered waking up for a total of 3 seconds before laying back down with Pope.
The late-morning silence didn’t last long, however, when JJ’s phone started to ring. Annoyed, JJ stuck his arm out to the other bedside table, where his near-dead phone was disturbing the first bit of peace he had felt in days.
“Hello,” JJ said sleepily, sitting up in the bed. “Who is this?”
“Hey man. It’s John B. What’s up?”