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The kegger’s in full swing—music pumping, a plethora of teens engaging in underage drinking, tourons being swindled and seduced left and right. Topper navigates his way through it all and drags the pretty girl with long, blonde hair with him as he goes for his fourth cup of...whatever the hell excuse for beer this is.
He downs half and nurses the rest as he listens to her drone on and on, barely registering her hand on his forearm. All he can think about is Sarah.
Sarah, with her blonde hair and brown eyes, her soft lips stretching into a mischievous grin. Sarah didn’t choose him, and he’s not sure he’ll ever get over that. She’s also missing, and he’s not sure he’ll ever get over that either. No matter how many times she chose John B over him, and even though the sea swept her to God knows where (because she’s still alive out there, somewhere, she has to be), she’ll still always own his heart. And it will still never be enough.
The girl (Amy? Amanda? Amber?) is staring expectantly, waiting for his response. He blinks.
“Sorry, I didn’t—it’s hard to hear, y’know? With the music.”
She nods, unconvinced. If this was the first time he’d spaced out, she’d probably be more forgiving. But this was the fifth time in almost as many minutes, and she didn’t want to waste her time.
“Actually, I think I see my friends over there. I’m just gonna…” She gestures to no one in particular and slips away.
“Yeah! No, of course, you should...do that.”
But she’s already gone, and he’s standing alone again. He needs space, somewhere to be alone for a moment, so he wanders along the edge of the boneyard, looking for somewhere even semi-private.
He stumbles across a safe haven—quite literally. It’s still technically part of the boneyard, close enough to feel the thrum of the party, to see it all unfold and not have to be part of it. Topper falls unceremoniously to the sand, back against a wall of fallen trees, and closes his eyes as he heaves a sigh.
“Hell no.”
His eyes fly open and take in tan skin, shaggy blonde hair, and blue eyes settled in a scowl. His body sags as he realizes who it is. “Look, man—”
“No fucking way—”
“I just want to sit out for a bit—”
JJ glares. “Well, do it elsewhere. I was here first. M’not leaving.”
“I didn’t say you had to,” Topper mumbles.
JJ gives him a look and brings the joint in his hand back up to his lips. He waits for Topper to continue.
“I don’t want to fight, okay?”
JJ laughs sarcastically. “That’s a first.”
Topper doesn’t have a response for that, no barb to fling back at the annoying pogue. He watches the waves lap on the shore for a bit and his face twists.
“Sometimes I like to imagine that they made it.”
His confession startles JJ, who eyes him with uncertainty.
“Like, maybe they’re on the mainland somewhere but they haven’t contacted anyone yet because they can’t, you know? Because of Peterkin.” The last bit is delivered around hiccups and an embarrassing amount of stammering. “I just—at least she’d be safe and happy and alive. Even if it’s with him.”
JJ takes another drag and it’s quiet between them for a moment. He knows Topper is only admitting to any of this because he’s drunk, but it’s not like JJ’s sober, either. “I like to think they’re in Yucatan.”
Topper looks over at him, pleasantly surprised. He smiles, slowly, sadly, and raises his cup. “To Yucatan.”
JJ’s lips quirk in a half-smirk and he picks up his own cup to knock it against Topper’s. “Yucatan.”
Topper swallows the rest of his drink, beer dribbling down his chin, and JJ can’t tear his eyes away from the way the drops slide down his neck, pooling in his collarbone. Topper wipes it away with the back of his hand and lets out a belch, earning a small, genuine laugh from JJ. He notices how nice it sounds, how JJ’s eyes crinkle at the edges and how he looks lighter and happier for the briefest moment.
“Jesus, man.”
Topper just grins in response.
Thirty-ish minutes later, both boys are cross-faded. JJ had offered his joint at some point and they got to smoking and talking, laughing over things that weren’t even that funny. Topper has never felt so at peace, muscles relaxed, stowed away in a corner on the beach with JJ as they keep trying to outdo each other with ridiculous and mostly false stories.
He’s more focused on the way JJ’s face contorts as he does an impression of an exasperated Kiara than on the words coming out of his mouth. He’s caught up in the chaotic energy JJ radiates, even when stoned, and thinks he’s probably the funniest, prettiest person he’s ever met.
Topper’s brain grinds to a halt. He thinks JJ is pretty?
He takes in JJ sitting across from him and the way his hair falls into his eyes without a backwards ballcap to hold it back. His gaze lowers to the slope of JJ’s lips, splitting into a grin as he talks, his entire face lighting up. Half of JJ’s chest is peeking out from underneath his shirt, twisted from his constant movement, and his arms are flexing from flailing his hands around to emphasize his point. Topper feels his mouth go dry.
He thinks JJ is pretty.
JJ is in the middle of his story, unaware of Topper’s internal crisis, when he’s interrupted.
“Can I tell you something?”
JJ doesn’t even have the energy to look put-out, too high and amused to be upset. “I mean, I’ll definitely make fun of you, whatever it is, but yeah.”
Topper laughs and knocks their knees together in protest. He motions for JJ to come closer but he merely gives him a look in response. “It’s a secret,” he says conspiratorially.
JJ rolls his eyes and scooches closer to the taller blonde. Topper keeps motioning him closer, closer and JJ obeys. “This better be good.”
“It is,” Topper promises and solemnly traces an X over his heart.
JJ shakes his head despite a smile growing. “And?”
Topper’s gaze is intense as he stares at JJ for a beat before tilting his head. “You’re pretty.”
JJ chokes on nothing, a blush climbing up his neck. “That’s your super important secret? You think I’m pretty?”
“Yep,” Topper says with a grin, popping the p. “Well, no. I mean, yes, you are, but that wasn’t the secret.” His eyes drop to JJ’s mouth and his voice comes out lower as he continues. “I kind of want to kiss you.”
The intensity of his stare and his voice bordering on husky sends a thrill down JJ’s spine. He tries to ignore the way the air has gotten palpably heavier and struggles to maintain his composure. But as he racks his brain for a lighthearted response, he comes up empty. Against his will, he finds himself staring at Topper’s lips in return. “That’s pretty hard to make fun of,” he whispers.
He flicks his eyes up to Topper’s and notices for the first time that they’re a nice shade of blue-grey and startlingly clear. Topper meets his gaze and edges closer until their noses are touching. He brings a hand up, smoothing over JJ’s arm and settling at the nape of his neck, and pauses, waiting for JJ to close the gap.
When Topper starts absentmindedly twisting JJ’s curls around his fingers, JJ rushes forward to seal their lips together.
It’s an awkward position, both uncomfortably angled, but neither notice as they find a rhythm. JJ has one hand on Topper’s forearm and another on his chest, heat pooling in his stomach as Topper tugs him closer and sucks on his lower lip and—
JJ jumps back, breaking the kiss. He goes back to his space and cards his hand through his hair, refusing to look at Topper. “That, uh...that was—we—you—”
Topper laughs, low and almost sexy, and it irritates JJ how attracted he is to him in this moment. “Damn, did I make JJ speechless? I’m honored. I’d like to thank my lips—”
JJ glares at him. “Shut the fuck up. You kissed me.”
“Technically, you kissed me—”
“We kissed. It’s—that’s weird.”
Topper shrugs. “What’s a kiss between friends?”
JJ flashes to that same phrase being passed between him and Pope, his insistence that they should practice so they know how to kiss girls backfiring when it only managed to make him fall deeper for his best friend, knowing he’d never be able to have him. His voice hardens. “We’re not friends.”
Topper raises his eyebrows and his eyes darken. “That’s kind of hotter.”
JJ lets out a strangled noise. Inebriated Topper has zero filter and zero chill, apparently. He’s unashamedly checking JJ out at the moment, eyes roaming all over his body.
“Are you saying you didn’t enjoy it?”
“No, I—” The words are out before JJ can stop them, and he curses Topper—of all people—for making him so flustered. “I did.” He decides he hates the way Topper smirks at him. But he also kind of likes it.
“Then what’s the problem?”
“The problem is that I hate you.”
Topper flinches at that before schooling his features. “And I hate you. So?”
“So—” JJ’s exasperated with Topper, and with himself for not being able to formulate words.
“Look,” Topper starts and comes closer, resting his hand on JJ’s leg. “It wouldn’t mean anything. And nobody would have to know.”
“Obviously,” JJ bites out. Topper’s staring at his mouth again and drawing patterns on his thigh and the atmosphere switches again to something heavier and JJ decides to blame all of that for why he continues. “It’d be a one time thing.”
“Of course.”
“And not here. People could see us.”
Topper finally drags his gaze up from JJ’s mouth to his eyes and grins. He stands and yanks JJ up with him, then gives a sweeping gesture with one hand. “Lead the way.”
JJ rolls his eyes and glances around, making sure nobody important could see them. Pope and Kie are nowhere to be seen, probably already ditched to be in their own world. None of the noteworthy kooks seem to be paying attention.
Deciding the coast is clear enough, JJ takes them to the chateau, Topper following behind with his hand on the small of JJ’s back.
.
Topper sits in his car and stares at the house, debating whether or not to go inside.
A week had passed since the kegger, and he found he didn’t feel any better than before. The guilt still seemed to suffocate him most nights.
He went to parties, drank and got high with his friends. He actually put forth effort to pull girls and a guy every now and then, but none of it worked. It did nothing to quell the storm churning underneath his skin. The only time he had felt at peace was a week ago.
So against his better judgement, he found himself parked outside the chateau. Just his luck that the only person whose company he could stand right now was JJ fucking Maybank.
He takes a few deep breaths, steeling his nerves, and climbs out of his car. His mind screams at him every step he takes closer to the front door, but he pushes it down and knocks.
He waits a few moments before knocking again. There’s a muted crash or two coming from inside, and he finally hears JJ’s muffled voice yell what he assumes to be, “I’m coming, keep your panties on.” Followed by a muttered, “Or don’t.”
The door swings open and he’s greeted by a rumpled JJ. His hair is sticking out every which way and he looks like Topper interrupted naptime.
“Well, don’t you look cute,” Topper quips.
JJ’s face flushes, either from the compliment or indignation, Topper isn’t sure. “The hell are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.”
“And why the fuck would you do that?” JJ hisses. “Pope or Kie could’ve been here, dumbass. What would you have done then?”
Topper pauses. He hadn’t thought of that. “I...don’t know,” he supplies eloquently.
JJ scoffs. “Listen, we’re not friends. This,” he motions between them. “Can’t happen. It was a one-time thing, remember?”
“Calm down,” Topper says with a roll of his eyes. “I’m not here to sweep you off your feet, princess. I came for a smoke.”
JJ crosses his arms and frowns. “And what, you think that because we hooked up once, I’d get you free weed? You’re not that good of a lay, Thornton.”
“No, I’m not—I didn’t come to get weed from you I—” He groans and drags his hand down his face. Please don’t make him explain it. “I came to get high with you. It’s...it’s different with you.”
JJ looks at him, his face a mixture of surprise and something else Topper can’t quite place. He opens his mouth to say something but Topper beats him to it.
“That came out wrong! I meant…” He sighs, shoves his hands in his pockets and leans against the porch door frame. “All my friends think they know what I’m going through, but they don’t. And they just make it worse. But you—” He stops, looks down, shrugs. Looks back up. “You get it.”
JJ does, unfortunately. But he wants to see Topper squirm, so he waits a bit longer, pretends to consider him and the situation. Finally, with a huff, he steps aside and motions for Topper to go in. And he does, immediately.
It’s way too quick and he definitely seems overeager, but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s just grateful JJ is letting him in at all.
JJ goes to his bag on the table and unzips it, pulling out a joint as Topper awkwardly sits on the couch. He lights it and takes a drag as he walks over and joins Topper, putting as much distance as he can between the two of them.
He passes it on to Topper and watches him studiously as he inhales. Topper can feel himself almost immediately start to relax. He takes another drag or two before passing it back, ignoring the way JJ hasn’t stopped staring.
“Sarah?” he asks.
Topper nods. “Sometimes,” he starts hesitantly. “Sometimes I feel like it’s my fault, you know? Like if I hadn’t pretended to be John B at the church, then maybe things would’ve turned out differently. Maybe they’d both be here right now.”
JJ passes him the joint wordlessly and waits for him to inhale. He has the joint back between his fingers before he speaks. “You can’t think like that, man. John B and Sarah are the most stubborn people I’ve ever met,” he says, sporting a bitter smile. “They would’ve found a way to do what they wanted, and it wouldn’t have mattered if you pretended to be him or not.” He looks down and exhales a long, watery breath. “Just like it wouldn’t have mattered if I had gotten them on The Phantom or not.”
The brief and unexpected display of emotion touches Topper, and he feels tears pricking his eyes.
JJ clears his throat and seems to suck all of his feelings back inside, locking them down. He hands Topper the joint and lingers for a moment. “You did the right thing. I promise.”
And just as quickly as he’s in Topper’s space, he’s gone, settled back on his side of the couch. Topper just wants him close again, wants him to touch him. His fingers still burn from where JJ’s brushed against them. “You did, too,” Topper tells him.
What Topper doesn’t tell him is that for being such a manic person, his presence is somehow calming, the only thing that keeps him from feeling like he’s drowning. He doesn’t tell him that he’s never felt as comfortable as he did with him the last time they were together. And he definitely doesn’t tell him that he hasn’t stopped thinking about him since.
Or at least, he intends not to.
It slips out when they’re an hour in. The joint has been passed back and forth between them enough times to see them devolve from teenagers mourning the loss of their friends to giggling school boys.
The weed helped JJ loosen up and become more comfortable with Topper, lessening the distance between them and acting more like his regular, affectionate self. It’s the first time Topper has been on the receiving end of JJ’s casual touches and it has him damn near losing his mind. They’re laughing and JJ’s hand is on his forearm and Topper is once again struck by the beauty of this boy and it just comes out without him meaning to.
“I can’t stop thinking about you.”
And it’s the wrong thing to say, because JJ stills and looks at him, wide-eyed.
The room is thick as the atmosphere shifts and Topper can’t help but find it interesting that there always seems to be tension underlying their interactions; it’s just heated now in a different way. It doesn’t stop the fear from bubbling in his throat, however, and he wants to kick himself for—
“Me either,” JJ admits, mostly to himself.
They stare at each other for a moment until something snaps and then they’re both lunging forward, hands and mouths everywhere, promises of “it’s a one-time thing” long forgotten, and maybe it was the right thing to say after all.
.
It’s been five days since the second time, and Topper hasn’t heard a word from JJ.
Afterwards, they had looked at each other guiltily before they decided to stop looking at each other altogether as they got dressed. Halting remarks of “That was...good,” and “I’m just gonna…” were made as Topper left. JJ had barely acknowledged him as he slipped out.
He tries to tell himself it doesn’t matter, that it’s no big deal if he never hears from JJ again; he survived before and he’ll survive now. He definitely doesn’t think about miles of tan skin or plush lips that curve into a teasing smile or the impulsive boy who makes jokes at the wrong time that are still annoyingly hilarious. He’s almost on his way to believing it when he gets a text from the blonde-haired devil himself.
ive been thinking
Topper smiles and types his response. Erases and retypes twice before he presses send.
Sounds dangerous.
He holds his breath as the typing bubble appears.
shut up
as i was saying
hooking up with you is surprisingly not terrible
Thanks, that’s what I normally go for.
I want people to walk away from a night with me and be able to say, “I’m surprised he wasn’t worse at this.”
ur making this so difficult
Sorry, continue.
just
why tf not
I don’t get it?
Please explain. In great detail.
fuck uuuu
That seems to be what you’re going for, yes. ;)
ugh
1. you type like a grandpa and i hate u
2. i mean like
hooking up
why not
ik we said it was a one time thing but clearly it wasnt
and as long as no one finds out
im down if you are. is what im saying
1. I’m not a grandpa. It’s called good grammar.
2. Yeah, sounds good. Cool.
Whatever.
........
very convincing
n e ways meet me in 10?
On my way.
Topper locks and pockets his phone and makes a beeline for his car, ignoring the voice in the back of his head calling him whipped. He’s fine without JJ—he is. And he could stop seeing him any time he wants to.
He just doesn’t want to.
.
Eventually, Topper forgets what it was like before he and JJ had come up with their...arrangement.
He tries to remember all the reasons he hated JJ and cling to them when they come across each other in public so no one is any wiser. But his attempts to inject his responses with as much venom as he can muster fall flat.
He can’t help but feel conflicted. How can he let his friends beat up on the same guy who, in private, holds his face tenderly, as if Topper is something breakable that has to be handled gently, and kisses him fiercely, as if he’s running out of air and Topper is the source of oxygen? The guy he’s realizing he doesn’t hate as much as he thought he did.
It’s gotten to the point where he fights a little less and makes more of an effort to talk his friends out of fights with the pogues. (It helps that he’s been avoiding Rafe for a while. There are less fights to defuse.)
And it’s not like Topper has single-handedly stopped the pogues and the kooks from fighting ever, but it’s less so now. Which is why he’s so confused one day when he enters the chateau and finds a battered JJ.
JJ had texted and, without hesitation, Topper dropped what he was doing to come. In this case, a party at Kelce’s place.
JJ’s lounging on the pull-out bed, a half-smoked joint in his mouth and beer cans littered around him.
“Started without me, I see.”
His eyes light up when he sees Topper and he flashes what Topper guesses is supposed to be a seductive grin. “Hey baby, I’ve been waiting for you.”
Topper quirks an eyebrow and approaches JJ, who’s currently making grabby-hands at him. The pet name is new.
Once he’s close enough, JJ grabs his shirt and yanks him down, humming appreciatively into the kiss. It’s when Topper pulls back that he first notices something actually wrong. JJ’s face has fresh cuts and the beginnings of a black eye.
“What happened here?” He goes to touch JJ’s face but is quickly batted away.
“Nothing. Just a run-in with some annoying-ass kooks. You know how they can be,” JJ says with a wink before pulling Topper back in.
Something about it doesn’t sit right with Topper, but all coherent thoughts fly out the window when JJ kisses him like that and pulls him all the way down. He’s so caught up in the weight and feel of JJ beneath him and running his hands along his chest—
JJ hisses in pain and Topper immediately pulls back and sits up. JJ leans back on one elbow and uses the other hand to reach for Topper again.
“I’m fine, come back.”
Topper shakes his head and pulls up JJ’s shirt to see what he was trying to keep hidden. A large bruise blooms on his left side, taking over nearly his entire abdomen.
“JJ, what the hell—”
He yanks his shirt down. “It’s fine, I told you.”
“That’s not fine, JJ. You probably have a broken rib or something—”
JJ rolls his eyes. “I think I’ll survive—”
“No, you need to get this looked at—”
“It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before, alright?” he snaps.
And the way he says it—chest heaving, voice teetering the edge of breaking, his eyes filled with what must be an ocean of sorrow—it breaks something in Topper as pieces start to fall into place. “Who actually did this, JJ?” he asks gently.
There’s a brief moment where it seems like he’ll open up and spill everything, face soft and hesitant, but it’s gone in a flash and replaced by a hardened expression. “I told you. Now are we going to fuck or not?”
Topper winces at his word choice and pauses. “JJ—”
But JJ already knows his answer before he says it. He scoffs. “Off.” JJ wriggles, trying to be free of Topper’s weight on him. “Off.”
Topper complies, stands up and takes a step back, his eyes never leaving JJ as he returns to his initial lounging position and looks around for an unopened beer. “You can talk to me.” He’s almost pleading, but he doesn’t care how desperate he sounds.
A bitter, watery laugh. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what, man?” Topper sounds manic now, he realizes. “You’re not letting me do anything—”
“Pretend like you give a shit!” JJ erupts, standing now.
“I do give a shit—” Topper says as he steps closer.
“Well, don’t, alright? Just fuck off, Top. It’s none of your business. I can take care of myself, okay? Just—you don’t get it. You don’t know anything so stop pretending that you understand—”
JJ’s voice had gone from cold and closed off to faltering, just on the edge of breaking down, and Topper had advanced across the room slowly, until he could wrap JJ in his arms. The dam breaks, and JJ falls apart, crying and blubbering about how he’s so tired and wants out and he hates his dad so fucking much.
Topper wants to do more than hold the boy. He wants to make it so that JJ’s dad never lays a finger on him again and to kiss it better and undo every bad thing that’s ever happened to him. But he can’t. So he holds him and rubs soothing circles on his back as the crying dies down.
He doesn’t know how long they stand there, but eventually JJ’s body starts to sag and he leans most of his weight on Topper, so he pulls them onto the bed, tucking JJ into the crook of his neck.
“M’sorry,” he mumbles into Topper’s skin. “You came here for something and—”
“I don’t mind,” he promises. “Really.”
He doesn’t realize how much he means it until he says it.
JJ passes out soon after, emotionally spent, and Topper isn’t far behind. They stay like that all night, holding each other.
.
Things change after that.
When the line has been crossed once, it’s easy to cross it again. Afterwards, JJ takes up the habit of hesitantly reaching out before Topper gets the hint and pulls him to his chest. They tease each other, their words having a lot less bite now, and Topper tangles his fingers in JJ’s hair as they drift off.
Sometimes, they don’t even hook up. They just smoke and talk and hold each other and kiss languidly.
JJ tells him that he’s convinced he doesn’t have a future, afraid he’ll end up like his old man, and Topper describes the pressure his mother constantly puts him under to be a certain way and date certain people and be successful—which really just means procuring as much wealth as possible.
They talk about how much they wish their lives were different and what they would want to do and where they would go if money was no object. (Topper finds out that JJ is really, really into Mexico. And chickens.)
Their texts change from Meet me in 10 messages to memes and references to inside jokes (Your chicken escaped, Topper will send, attaching a photo of some pelican he came across that day), and when something funny or noteworthy happens, they find themselves immediately reaching for their phones to tell the other.
And it’s better, but it’s also so, so much worse.
.
It falls apart two months after it starts. It’s Topper’s fault for getting too emotionally involved too fast.
He realizes he’s in deep when he catches sight of JJ across the way at the marina, joking around and laughing with Pope and Kiara, and his heart clenches because he wants so badly for that to be him making JJ smile so widely and casually slinging an arm around his shoulder.
He wants more than what they have right now, more than what JJ would ever be willing to give him, and it hits him like a ton of bricks.
JJ wouldn’t feel the same way, and that’s fine; Topper’s always had a bad habit of caring more for people than they ever would for him. But he’ll take what he can get. He savors every moment they share in secret and replays in his head every time their eyes meet in public and JJ hastily looks away, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips and faint blush staining his cheeks.
He tries to play it cool.
He takes an extra ten minutes to respond to texts and lets JJ be the one to initiate any makeout sessions. He schools his features and doesn’t let JJ catch him staring with what he’s sure must be heart-eyes, mooning over this boy with the heart of gold who’s batshit crazy but would do anything for the people he loves.
All of that effort, the carefully measured amount of interest, and he still fucks it up anyway.
Topper comes in that night to find a bruised JJ again, and it’s similar to the first time in that he cuddles him in bed while he cries, but different in that there’s not much resistance, JJ falling quickly and easily into his arms.
The rage and overwhelming desire to protect JJ that he feels every time he thinks about the situation is keeping Topper awake as JJ starts to drift off. He wants to beat his dad into oblivion, but he knows from past experience that he’d get his ass handed to him. He also knows that if anything, he’d just end up making it worse for JJ. But he wants to do something. He has to. He needs to make it better, somehow.
“Shut up,” JJ murmurs.
Topper looks at him in confusion. “I didn’t say anything?”
“You’re thinking so loud,” JJ complains, eyes still closed. “Just go to sleep.”
He chuckles and brushes the hair out of JJ’s face, caressing his cheek. “I have an idea.” JJ opens one eye at that and raises an eyebrow suggestively. “It’s not a sex thing.”
JJ hmphs and closes his eyes again. “Then tell me in the morning. Sleep,” he commands and snuggles closer.
Topper continues anyway. “You really can’t stay there. With your dad, I mean.”
“Yeah, dipshit, that’s why I’m here.”
“But not all the time. He can find you here. And legally, you’re still stuck with him.”
JJ slowly opens his eyes and peers at Topper through his lashes. “What are you saying?”
Topper loses his nerve then, not wanting to say the next part, unsure why he let himself talk to begin with. He taps out some nonsensical rhythm with his fingers where they’re resting on JJ’s arm, trying to calm himself down. “We have a guest room. And I think I know how to get my mom to agree to taking you in and—”
JJ pulls back, leans on his elbow so he’s looking down at Topper. “And what, your parents would become my guardians?” He gets a glint in his eyes and Topper knows he’s going to hate whatever he says next. “I didn’t realize hooking up with your brother was a fantasy of yours. ‘Cause that’s what we’d be, to be clear.” Topper’s face screws up in a horrified expression. “We’d practically be brothers. But hey, if you’re into that—”
“God, shut up,” Topper groans and shoves him away. “You’re disgusting.”
“It was your idea,” JJ reminds him, cackling.
“Clearly I didn’t think that part through.”
“Clearly.” JJ grins, still finding it all amusing. He leans down and plants a chaste kiss on Topper’s mouth before pulling back and resuming his bit. “Who do you think I am anyway, John B? Are you Sarah Cameron? Is your dad going to kill mine?” He stops for a moment, realization dawning. “Oh shit, is that your plan? For your dad to kill mine?” He looks impressed. “You know, I got to hand it to you, Top, you really are full of surprises—”
“No! That’s not what I—”
“It’s a great idea. If anyone could get away with it, it’d be a rich, white guy—”
“No one’s murdering anyone, Jesus Christ.” He’s annoyed but still amused, and annoyed that he’s amused, but that’s his constant state around JJ. “Are you done?” JJ shrugs and grins, clearly nowhere near done. “Ready to take this seriously now?”
“Take what seriously?” He’s still jovial and full of mirth. “C’mon, man. That would never work.”
Topper mirrors JJ’s position and sits up, leaning his weight on his elbow. “Why not?”
The moment he realizes Topper’s serious, the smile falters. JJ starts, stops. Runs a hand through his hair. “That—it just wouldn’t, okay?”
“Why?” Topper presses, shifting so he’s facing him.
“Because it goes against everything we’ve agreed to,” JJ snaps. “People would know. And that…We’d be living together, dude. That’s—” He scoffs in disbelief. “That’s not something that’s casual, that—”
“Means something,” Topper supplies quietly. And he’s shown his hand now, spilled his heart without meaning to, all his messy emotions splattered on the bed between them. Because it means something to him, and JJ knows that now.
JJ swallows.
Topper has to play it right because JJ looks panicked and he doesn’t want to say anything that would spook him. He could attempt to backpedal, try to play it in a way that undoes everything, shrug it off as if he doesn’t feel so much, as if he doesn’t want to be with JJ in a very non-casual way so badly it’s hard to breathe. If he tried hard enough, he could fix this.
But he’s a certified dumbass, so instead he adds gently, “Is that so bad?”
JJ rears back like he’s been slapped, and his face shows the same amount of surprise and fear that he would in that situation. He climbs out of bed in a daze. “I need to, uh—I have to go, I think. Yeah.”
“JJ, wait—” Topper scrambles out of the bed and tries to block the way to the door as JJ rushes to gather his things.
JJ tries to navigate around him. “What? I have to go—”
“Where? Where would you go right now?”
He forces a smile, his walls back up, hiding behind humor and levity. “Don’t worry about it, man.” He pats Topper’s cheek as he passes by.
“I do, though,” Topper admits to JJ’s back. “I worry about you.”
He pauses, hand gripping the door handle. His breaths are becoming more shallow and frequent. “That’s the problem,” he whispers hoarsely. A beat. Both boys stand there in silence, tears forming in their eyes, unbeknownst to the other. “We shouldn’t see each other anymore.”
And with that, he’s out the door.
“JJ—”
But he’s calling after no one.
.
Topper sulks, worse than he did after Sarah.
He doesn’t even try to get high or drunk or party away his problems. He just stays in his room, listening to sad music, and pines.
It’s concerning, and Wheezie’s worried because in a strange twist of fate, she became the only person he could talk to about this.
He stopped expecting anything from his friends or parents, knowing they only give a shit about him when it’s about what he can give them. He and Wheezie had always gotten along and they bonded all the more after Sarah’s disappearance.
Wheezie was the only other person who loved Sarah and helped her that night, and is consequently the only other person who deals with the guilt of what that led to. She became like his little sister, the two drawn together over their love for and grief over Sarah.
She was the one he talked to when he realized he felt something beyond merely attraction for JJ, and she was the one who helped him understand why he was so intense about convincing everyone of his feelings for Sarah, why he felt like he had to convince himself he was in love with her. And why it felt so easy with JJ in comparison.
So being a good ex-girlfriend’s little sister, Wheezie drags him out of the house one day.
He owes her a brunch, she insists, and it’s been a week of brooding and ignoring her calls, so he figures he really does.
They’re walking aimlessly, bellies full and Topper’s heart a little lighter as she gives him the latest dish on her classmates drama. She’s in the middle of explaining why Dana and Lila are no longer on speaking terms when he hears it.
There’s some kind of commotion starting, voices he recognizes that are clearly and quickly escalating to a fight. They round the corner and see exactly who he was expecting: it’s JJ—and it’s Rafe and Kelce and a few other kooks cornering him, holding him still.
He’s outnumbered and he and JJ aren’t even talking anymore, but Topper steps in anyway. “What’s going on here?”
He’s talking to his old friends and pointedly looking at only them, ignoring JJ’s stare.
Rafe eyes him up and down, glances at JJ and his hyperfocus on Topper, then back again, wheels turning. “Don’t worry about it, man.”
“Don’t worry about it?” Topper couldn’t remember the last time he spoke to someone who wasn’t from the cut like this, voice already on edge, just shy of swinging.
“Yeah, man, this doesn’t really seem like your thing anymore anyway so—”
“What, I don’t seem like the type to beat up on innocent people?”
“Innocent?” Rafe laughs meanly. “That’s interesting considering his friend murdered my fucking sister.”
“What’s interesting is you pretending you ever gave a fuck about Sarah—”
Rafe grabs him gruffly by the shirt and gets in his face. “She was my sister, asshole—”
“Rafe, stop! Let him go.”
Rafe turns and notices Wheezie for the first time. “Shut the fuck up, Wheezie. Go home.”
Topper nods to Wheezie, who turns and runs in the direction they came in.
“Maybe try not to sound so much like a psychopath—” Topper suggests. Rafe sneers in response and Topper lifts his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, I think it would help.”
He can hear JJ stifle a chuckle at that, and despite their very unfortunate circumstances, he can’t help the warmth that spreads in his chest.
Rafe turns his attention to JJ, who’s being held back by Kelce, looking vaguely concerned, and another kook. “Oh, you think that’s funny?”
“I mean, I don’t know if I would say funny, exactly. Amusing, a little bit, yeah.”
“Oh, amusing?”
“Yeah, a bit.”
“Okay.” And with that, Rafe sucker punches Topper. JJ nearly growls and lunges for Rafe, wrestling against the vice grip the kooks have him in. Rafe punches Topper’s face next, sending him to the ground, then laughs and looks back at JJ. “You know, I can see that. It is a little amusing.”
“Rafe—” Kelce starts.
“You’re fucking psychotic, dude.” JJ’s voice shakes a bit, enraged that he and Topper are outnumbered and going to be hurt and he can’t do anything about it.
“Aww, is someone feeling left out? Don’t worry, sweetheart—you’re next.” Rafe grabs Topper by the hair, lifting him up, and punches him again.
“C’mon, man, that’s Topper—” Kelce steps forward, his grip loosening and JJ takes advantage of it.
He wrenches himself free, elbowing the other kook in the face. Kelce turns, surprised, and tries to wrangle him back in, but JJ uses his free hand to punch him in the jaw.
Rafe attempts to help, but Topper gets up from the ground and attacks him from behind, putting him in a chokehold.
At that point, mayhem breaks out as everyone starts swinging wildly. It’s the first time Topper’s fought for the pogues instead of just with them and even though he has a bloody cheekbone and cracked rib or two when Wheezie returns with help to break up the fight, he can’t help but smile.
.
“You’re an idiot, you know,” JJ tells him as he opens the first aid kit.
“I know,” Topper smiles. “You’ve told me at least seven times now.”
JJ scowls.
Him glaring at Topper shouldn’t make him so happy, but it does. And JJ being here in his guest bathroom, with him, fixing him up because he wants to, has him near giddy.
“You look like a maniac,” JJ scolds, soaking a gauze pad with hydrogen peroxide. “Being in such a good mood after you just fought your friends.”
Topper shrugs from his place on the counter, trying not to grin so much. “Not really my friends anymore, are they?”
JJ eyes him as he brings the gauze to his cheek, causing Topper to wince. His face is in bad shape, and the bruises on his abdomen are worse. The guilt settles heavily in JJ’s stomach. “I could’ve taken care of myself, you know.”
“I know,” Topper tells him. His voice softens as he continues. “But you shouldn’t have to.”
JJ looks at him, almost startled by the affection in his voice, the juxtaposition of Topper’s gentle tone and fierce gaze unsettling him. He swallows thickly.
Topper rushes to change the topic, not wanting to scare him off again. “So what were you doing in figure 8 anyway?”
Hesitantly, JJ resumes attending to Topper’s bloody cheek, this time with some kind of medical gel. Topper thought he was asking an innocent enough question, but JJ seems uncomfortable in a new way now. “I, uh, I came to see you actually.” His eyes briefly flit to Topper’s before going back to his work.
It’s not the answer Topper was expecting, and it makes the warmth that’s been blooming in his chest spread to his scalp and down to his toes. “JJ—”
“No, don’t say anything. I—” He removes his hands from Topper’s face and fiddles with them, using them as a distraction so he doesn’t have to meet Topper’s gaze. He takes a deep breath. “I have a whole speech actually.” He lets out a nervous chuckle, airy and light, and finally looks Topper in the eye.
JJ being so uncertain and planning out a whole speech makes Topper’s stomach flutter, but he doesn’t want to let it show, wants JJ to feel comfortable. “This should be good,” he teases instead.
It must work, because JJ grins, nerves seeming to fade. “Well if that’s going to be your attitude, I think I should just go.” He starts for the bathroom door, but Topper pulls him back by his shirt.
“Oh, hell no.”
They smile at each other and Topper loosens his grip on JJ’s shirt, hand settling lightly on his waist.
“So listen, I, uh—” JJ looks down again, then back up. “I have been an idiot. And I’m sorry. Kie talked some sense into me and swore she’d kick my ass if I didn’t come talk to you, so.” He laughs, still uncomfortable. “Look, you know I’m terrible at these kinds of things, talking about my feelings and whatever, but apparently I’ve been unbearable this past week, and I know technically I was the one who ended things but,” he rambles, then stops, a sudden surge of confidence driving him. He steps closer.
“I don’t want casual with you. I don’t want to hide what we have. I want to hold your hand and go on stupid dates with you and introduce you to my friends as my boyfriend and be able to admire you and kiss you whenever I want and you’ve turned me into such a fucking sap, but I don’t care.” JJ’s genuinely smiling now and takes another step closer. “So if you still want that…”
Topper can barely believe what’s happening and sits there, dumbstruck.
JJ’s expression turns worried again. He nudges Topper. “You’re, uh, you’re not saying anything.”
Topper comes to and reaches up, brushing his knuckles against JJ’s check. He traces his jaw and anchors him there. “Of course I still want you, asshole.”
Relief floods his face and JJ grins again. “You know, I was under the impression that normally there was some kissing after a speech like that—”
Topper rolls his eyes and pulls JJ into him, crashing their lips together. JJ immediately wraps one arm around Topper’s neck and the other hand comes to rest on his chest. They’re both smiling into the kiss and it makes Topper hum, tightening his hold on JJ’s waist.
JJ eventually jerks back, his split lip making it too painful to continue, and they both laugh and God, Topper is so gone for this boy as they stand there in the bathroom, foreheads pressed together and gripping each other, content to just be for a while.
(JJ doesn’t officially move in, but he does find himself staying the night a lot more often and Topper decides he’ll take what he can get.)