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Pope was a failure. Despite trying so hard for so many years to be anything but that. Then again, maybe some things were inevitable.
So much for college. So much for forensic pathology. So much for making it out of the Cut and becoming some kind of well-off genius with a medical degree.
So much for being the golden boy.
His parents would be devastated, maybe even angry, and how could he blame them? They'd sacrificed so much for him and his future, and for what? He'd only lasted two years at UNC. Two. In comparison to over a decade of toil, that was nothing.
And so, after everything, Pope was going home. Home to the Cut, and his folks, and the great looming unknown that was the rest of his life.
Maybe this was what Icarus felt like. Maybe his final thought before hitting the water was please don't be disappointed in me, Dad.
Stepping off the ferry with a duffel bag of belongings slung over one shoulder, Pope glanced nervously at each passing face, as if his parents would be lying in wait for him. But he never caught sight of them or their disappointment. His agony would be prolonged, and he probably deserved it.
The Cut looked the same as it always did: blues and greens and yellows with undertones of despair. Pope wasn't sure if the sight of it was a comfort or a curse. Maybe a little of both.
He found himself standing on one of many docks, looking out at the water like Poseidon himself might rise from the depths and offer some advice. But Poseidon never came. It was just him and the catfish.
"Pope?"
Oh, and JJ.
Wait.
Pope turned, and there he was. JJ fucking Maybank. Blonde-haired, big-armed JJ. The same JJ who had loved Pope enough to take the fall for him. That JJ.
"JJ. Oh my God. How are y–"
JJ didn't miss a beat. He surged forward like a ten-foot wave and captured Pope in a bone-crushing hug. Pope just stood there at first, dumbfounded. The two of them hadn't left off on the greatest terms, so this was an unexpected surprise. And yet, for the first time in years, the lining of Pope's soul didn't feel like it was coming undone. It was an awfully nice feeling.
He hugged JJ back.
"What're you doin' here, man?" JJ mumbled against Pope's shoulder. He almost sounded choked up, but it was hard to tell.
"Just visiting," Pope replied, and JJ released him at last, grinning that same crooked grin Pope remembered so well.
Some things never changed.
"This is so crazy. I swear I was just thinking about you the other day." JJ looked Pope up and down, blue eyes shining. "Dude, you look so good!"
Pope blinked, flattered and a little bit embarrassed. "Thanks, that's... Really nice of you to say. You look good, too."
"Don't gotta tell me twice," JJ replied, winking, and Pope decided that this sight in particular was a comfort. JJ fucking Maybank in all his glory.
But there was somebody else Pope couldn't help but think of.
"What's Kie up to these days?" he asked, which made a certain fondness creep into JJ's smile.
"Still workin' at the Wreck and savin' sea turtles. Same old Kie."
"Do you two ever talk?"
"All the time, dude." JJ's face lit up like an arsonist's best work. "Holy shit, we've gotta go see her. She's gonna freak."
Pope was hesitant. Not because he didn't want to see Kie, but because she probably wouldn't want to see him. "You sure that's a good idea?"
"Oh, totally," JJ assured him, and his enthusiasm was hard to resist. "It'll be great. Just like old times or whatever."
Minus John B, Pope's brain added unhelpfully, which was all it took for fresh heartache to slash at his chest like an unruly knife. Sometimes Pope forgot that grief would forever be a wedge in the door of closure, propping open wounds until they were infected.
But despite the infection, he swallowed his misery and said, "Okay. Let's go see Kie."
That's when JJ grabbed Pope's hand, started leading him off the dock; Pope was surprised but didn't object. How could he when the callouses on JJ's fingers were the ultimate consolation?
Pope couldn't ignore the looks people gave them as JJ tugged him across town to the Wreck. He couldn't ignore the whispers, because surely some of these people recognized him. How could they not?
There's Heyward's boy, they were probably saying. Going off to college must've turned him into a queer.
For whatever reason, the thought made him grip JJ's hand even tighter.
The Wreck was sporting a fresh coat of paint, but other than that, it looked the same. Something like nostalgia snagged on Pope's heart when he remembered all the hours he'd spent here with his friends, laughing and talking shit and eating good food. No matter how hard he tried, he'd never forget it. Any of it.
He could only pray Kie felt the same.
JJ only let go of Pope to push past the front doors and shout, "Kie! Look who I fuckin' found!"
Kie, who had been in the process of closing up, turned to look. Her hair was tied up, and there were smudges on her apron.
JJ was right. Same old Kie.
"Pope?"
Pope lifted a hand in greeting. "Hey."
"Oh my God."
"Wanna throw some grub our way?" JJ asked, slinging an arm around Pope's shoulders; Kie just blinked at first, like she was still processing Pope's existence.
"Yeah," she said at last. "Yeah, I'll... Do that."
"C'mon," JJ urged, pulling away in the direction of the nearest table. Slowly but surely, Pope followed, glancing at Kie as she disappeared into the kitchen.
Once he was sitting across from JJ, Pope leaned forward and whispered, "You sure she's cool with this?" When JJ just shook his head and smiled, Pope narrowed his eyes at him. "What?"
"Nothin'. Just good to know that you still worry too much."
"I worry a very reasonable amount, actually. Maybe you should follow my lead."
"Uh huh," JJ drawled, still grinning in that shit-eating way of his. "Whatever you say man."
Pope opened his mouth to fire back, but was interrupted by the sound of Kie clearing her throat. She had reappeared with trays of food in hand, which she placed stiffly in front of them. JJ muttered a quick hell yeah dude before grabbing the closest edible item and stuffing it in his face. Kie rolled her eyes and took a seat, arms folded tight across her chest.
It was quiet save for JJ's animalistic chewing.
"So, how's college?" Kie asked after awhile, making reluctant eye contact with Pope, who shifted in his chair.
"It's, uh... It's good."
Then the quiet returned, louder and more uncomfortable than ever. Eyebrows furrowing, JJ glanced from Pope to Kie and back again, like a golden retriever puzzled by the tension. And JJ being JJ, he wouldn't stand for it.
"Kie has a super hot girlfriend now," he piped up, much to Kie and Pope's surprise; the former's face flushed pink with horror almost immediately.
"Shut up JJ."
"That's really cool," Pope insisted, and he meant it. God knows Kie deserved to have a super hot girlfriend. "What's her name?"
Kie hesitated, eyes glued to the table, bottom lip between her teeth. Pope waited patiently for her to come around. When she did, her voice was soft. "Leah."
Pope nodded. Leah. It was a pretty name. "I think I remember her from high school. She was nice."
"And sexy," JJ added, waggling his eyebrows, and Kie wasted no time punching him in the arm.
The ice had officially been broken. All thanks to JJ and his stupid smart mouth.
For once, Pope was grateful for that stupidity.
JJ leaned back in his chair with an air of smugness that was most definitely bullshit. "What about you, golden boy? Meet anybody cute up on Chapel Hill?"
"Not really. Too busy with school, I guess," Pope replied truthfully, shrugging. He didn't want to think about Chapel Hill, or UNC, or the future he'd walked out on. Again.
Something twitched in the corner of JJ's mouth. If Pope didn't know any better, he'd say it was relief.
"Poor guy," JJ said in a bogus attempt to comfort him. "There's gotta be somebody out there for your weirdass self."
Pope toyed mindlessly with a straw wrapper and shrugged again. "Maybe."
"If all else fails, just fuck one of those dead bodies you love so much."
Kie's face contorted with immediate repulsion. "That's called necrophilia, JJ, and it's disgusting."
"Better than nothin'!" JJ insisted, and Kie gave him a well-deserved why are we even friends look.
"You're so gross."
Pope raised a hand. "Oh, I second that."
"How dare you two gang up on me when I'm the one who got the band back together," JJ pointed out with a huff. "Ungrateful ass bitches."
Pope was watching JJ and Kie bicker like old times when their voices started to fade into white noise. It was as if the world had been hit with a tranquilizer, except Pope's heart was pounding rather than slowing down. Waves of blood crashed against the shorelines of his eardrums, stranding him on the world's loneliest island.
He didn't want to be alone. Not anymore.
"Guys?" Pope croaked, and when they didn't pay any mind, he cleared his throat and said, "I dropped out."
JJ froze, a French fry hanging out of his mouth like a greasy cigarette. It would've been funny if Pope's nervous system didn't feel like it was on the verge of collapse.
"I'm sorry, you what?" Kie sputtered, eyes like saucers, so Pope took a deep breath and repeated himself.
"I dropped out."
It almost felt good to say.
"Like, for good?" JJ asked around the fry.
"Maybe. Probably. I dunno."
Kie was staring at him like she was pissed or heartbroken or both. "Jesus Christ, Pope. Why would you do that?"
"Because I wanted to, okay?" Pope shot back, but the fire in his throat died out almost immediately. He felt so incredibly small. "I wanted to. I thought I could do it, but I couldn't. It was too much."
Before he knew it, before he could stop himself, Pope was crying. Big, hot, desperate tears that he'd been holding in for months. Years, even. They welled up and spilled over, burning their way across his face like angry arsonists. His childhood friends exchanged a sad look before JJ took it upon himself to reach out and put a hand on Pope's arm. That hand, with all its scars and callouses, was the anchor to Pope's wayward ship. JJ wouldn't let him get lost at sea. Not ever.
"It's gonna be okay, man," JJ murmured, gentle as a big blonde lamb. Pope could barely choke out a response.
"My parents are gonna kill me."
JJ and Kie exchanged another look. Kie asked, "They don't know yet?"
Pope shook his head.
"When are you gonna tell them?"
"I dunno." It was true. He had no fucking idea when or how he was supposed to break the news, thereby breaking his mother's heart.
"They need to know about this," Kie insisted with the loving firmness of a teacher. "It'll be better that way."
Pope didn't respond, because what could he say? He knew Kie was right. She was always right. So he couldn't say shit. He just sat there and let the saltwater fester.
"Where are you staying tonight?" Kie asked after an uneasy window of silence.
"I dunno," Pope repeated.
JJ jumped in then, because of course he did. He truly never missed a beat. "Stay with me, man. I've got you."
"You don't have to–"
"I know I don't have to," JJ interrupted. "I want to."
All at once, Pope felt something overwhelm him. Something other than the heartache. Something he had so desperately missed without even realizing it.
An incurable, undying love for his friends.
"Thank you. Both of you." He wiped at his eyes with the back of one hand. "You guys are really great."
"We know," JJ and Kie replied in unison, which made Pope crack a smile. How could he not love them?
They sat together a while longer, discussing everything from hurricane season to entitled tourists to Topper's bullshit startup company. Nobody brought up John B because nobody had to. They could all feel the tangible, terrible void sitting right across from them. It would always be there. Better to laugh too loud and talk about dumb shit than let their grief eat up the entire room.
It was almost midnight when JJ glanced at the clock on the wall and said, "We should probably get going, Pope."
Some secret, childish part of Pope wanted to scream no! This is my home! You guys are my home! But he didn't. He just nodded and watched as JJ rose from his chair, stretching his arms above his head.
"Thanks for the food, Kie. You're the best."
"And you're the worst," Kie replied, but she was smiling. JJ blew her a kiss and started making his way towards the door.
"It was really nice seeing you," Pope said to Kie as he got up to follow JJ.
"It was nice seeing you, too." Kie's face hardened then. "Hey Pope? Promise me you'll be careful with JJ."
Pope raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't it be the other way around? He's the wild card, remember?"
"I'm being serious," Kie urged, lowering her voice. "He's been through a lot of shit and he's finally starting to heal. He pulled himself out of the gutter, Pope. Promise me you won't stomp all over his progress."
Pope almost felt offended at the implication that he would do any such thing. But it wouldn't be right to argue. "Okay. I promise."
"C'mon, Dr. Spock!" JJ called from across the restaurant. "I'm not gonna wait all night!"
"Bye Kie," Pope said quietly.
"Bye."
There was no hand-holding when JJ and Pope headed back through town, but they walked side-by-side, the moon outlining their faces in a watery silver. JJ was unusually quiet, and yet unusually at peace. They both were. Quiet, but at peace. The way it should be.
The longer they walked, the more Pope realized that he knew exactly where they were going. He'd taken this path enough times to be certain. That's why he wasn't caught off guard when the Chateau came into view, its front porch the gaping maw to the unforgiving beast that was nostalgia.
Not just nostalgia. Grief. Regret. Longing. And more grief.
"You live here now?" Pope asked, slowing to a stop. He didn't take his eyes off the place in question.
JJ stopped, too. "Yeah. Wanted to keep it warm for John B in case he ever... Shows up." He scratched at his neck; cleared his throat. "I just don't think it should be empty, y'know? Not after everything."
Pope nodded, because he understood. They shared the same wounds.
They stood there staring at the Chateau a few moments longer before JJ clapped Pope on the shoulder, saying, "C'mon, man. The mosquitoes are gonna eat us alive out here."
So Pope followed him into that gaping maw, all the while wishing he was brave enough to reach out and grab JJ's hand. But he wasn't that brave. Never had been.
The first thing Pope noticed was the smell. Strong, skunky, familiar. The smell of late-night smoke sessions that Pope had rarely partook in but always been there for. He could still picture JJ, lounging across the couch like an oversized cat, too high to move but sober enough to smile in Pope's direction.
The second thing Pope noticed was how clean the place was. Sure, there were a few pizza boxes lying around, but considering JJ's raccoon tendencies, it looked pretty damn good.
"I'd get you a beer, but I'm fresh out," JJ admitted, snapping Pope out of his nostalgia-induced trance. How could JJ not have beer? It was practically his lifeblood. At least, it used to be.
"That's all right." Pope glanced from the cracks in the walls to the smoke stains on the ceiling. "Damn. I've really missed this place."
JJ smiled, soft and a little shy. "I think it's missed you, too."
Pope made his way over to the couch and sank back against its ancient cushions, letting them cradle his body like an old friend. JJ joined him, plopping down next to Pope without a word. Just the two of them on John B's shitty old sofa. Painful, but meant to be.
For the first time ever, Pope was the first to speak.
"Do you think I'm selfish?" he asked, and JJ turned his head to blink at him.
"For dropping out?"
"Yeah."
"Nah," JJ said simply. "Not if that's what you wanted."
"I wanted to make it to the finish line," Pope replied, voice tinged with bitterness. He couldn't help it. He resented himself. Resented his stupid, selfish ways.
JJ looked up at the ceiling, thoughtful. "Maybe your finish line is somewhere else."
"Okay, but where?"
"I dunno, man," JJ said, shrugging. "That's for you to find out."
Pope heaved a sigh; closed his eyes. "Things were so much easier when we were sixteen."
"Speak for yourself." JJ's face creased with some bitterness of his own, then softened. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you're home."
Home. The word was honey in JJ's mouth. Honey for Pope's weary soul.
"It's worth a lot, actually," Pope murmured, eyes meeting JJ's own. "Thanks."
JJ just smiled and patted Pope's shoulder. His hand lingered a little too long, or maybe not long enough. Then he was rising from the couch.
"Get some sleep," JJ said, starting for the hallway. He paused just before rounding the corner. "And Pope?"
"Yeah?"
"You're still my golden boy."
By the time Pope had processed those five words, JJ was long gone.
Pope slept far better on that shitty old couch than he had in his dorm room. He slept so well, in fact, that he only woke up when the smell of something burning assaulted his nose. Eyes still half-lidded, he dragged himself upright and went to investigate. Unsurprisingly, the smell led him straight to JJ, who was shuffling around in the kitchen.
He was also shirtless, but Pope chose to ignore that. For now.
"Jesus Christ," Pope muttered, which made JJ turn. "It smells like lung cancer in here."
"Oh, hey. Don't mind me, I'm just makin' a balanced breakfast for my very special house guest."
Pope eyed a frying pan full of what used to be scrambled eggs. "There's nothing balanced about that, JJ. It's ninety percent ash."
"Don't think of it as ash, man. Think of it as nutrients."
"I will not be thinking of that shit as nutrients."
JJ crossed his arms, squinting. "Fuck you, then. I want a divorce."
"Consider the papers signed," Pope replied, also crossing his arms, and JJ's pretend-scowl was splintered by the twitching of his mouth. Pretty soon they were both grinning; Pope rolled his eyes and reached past JJ to snatch up the frying pan. "I'll handle breakfast. You just stand there and look pretty or whatever."
"That's what I do best, baby," JJ drawled, running a hand through his hair, which damn near made Pope gag.
It didn't take long for Pope to whip up something that was actually edible, even with a shirtless JJ jabbering away the entire time. They ate leaning against the kitchen counter, occasionally bumping elbows but not bothering to move farther apart. They'd spent too long too many miles away from each other to tolerate any distance now.
"So... You gonna tell your parents today?" JJ asked after awhile, stealing a curious glance at Pope, who hesitated.
"I dunno. Maybe."
"I'll go with you if you want," JJ said, which eased some of the tension in Pope's chest.
"Thanks, JJ."
"What can I say, man? I'm a goddamn saint." JJ shoveled a final bite of eggs into his mouth and set his plate aside. Fortunately for Pope, he had the decency to finish chewing before opening his mouth again. "In the meantime, we can go surfing. You still remember how to surf, right?"
Truth be told, Pope hadn't surfed since he'd left for UNC. But maybe some things were permanent. Muscle memory or whatever. "Yeah, of course."
"Awesome," JJ said, grinning.
So they went surfing.
It was a nice day: blue sky, slight breeze. The tide not too high but not too low, either. JJ had a spare board that he let Pope borrow, which was nice of him. But when they reached the shoreline and JJ went crashing into the water without a second thought, Pope found himself hesitating. He always found himself hesitating.
JJ stopped when he realized Pope was still on dry land, squinting at him through the midday sun. "You comin'?"
Pope nodded. "Yeah, just... Give me a sec."
"All right."
Pope took one of those deep, all-consuming breaths, eyes glued to the place where the sea met the sky. Watched the two blues ripple against each other. Then he moved forward, moved into the water until it was lapping at his bare stomach like a dog that was happy to see him.
JJ grinned and said, "Atta boy."
Turned out that Pope did remember how to surf, even if he was a little out of practice. Sure, he wiped out a couple times, but he always came up sputtering with laughter. It helped that JJ was always in the corner of his eye, all lean muscles and flashing teeth and golden hair. Like a lion.
Pope had missed surfing. He had missed surfing, and he had missed JJ.
They rode the waves for hours before calling it quits and heading back to shore. Tired but oh-so content, Pope laid down his board and took a seat on the sand; JJ did the same. They sat side-by-side, facing the glittering horizon, bare shoulders almost touching but not quite.
Not quite.
Then something caught Pope's eye. Two people walking along the beach, hand-in-hand. Pope squinted and discovered that one of them was Kie, which meant the other one - messy blonde hair, floral bikini - had to be her super hot girlfriend.
"Is that Leah?" Pope asked, nodding in their direction. JJ smiled.
"Yep."
"She looks like–"
"Yeah."
Nothing more had to be said.
"Hey Kie!" JJ shouted, waving at her like a castaway trying to signal a plane. Kie responded by flipping him off, but even from fifty yards away, they could see her smile.
"I'm so fuckin' happy for her," JJ said, so earnest that it made Pope's heart ache.
"Yeah, me too. She deserves it," Pope said softly, but the ache in his heart persisted. It persisted until he blurted out the following: "I should've taken you with me."
JJ looked over at him, eyebrows furrowing. "To UNC?"
"Yeah."
JJ snorted. "Nah. I would've embarrassed you in front of all your smart college friends."
"I definitely should've taken you with me," Pope insisted, but much to his surprise, JJ just shrugged.
"I'm kinda glad you didn't."
"Why?"
"I dunno," JJ mumbled, drawing a smiley face in the sand. "You're here now, and that's good enough for me. I think everything worked out the way it was s'posed to."
Pope blinked. "Wow. Okay."
"What?"
"I just didn't expect such philosophical bullshit from the guy who can't even cook scrambled eggs."
"Oh, my bad." JJ contorted his face into a caricature of anger. "I can't believe you abandoned me! After everything we've been through! I hate you!"
Pope raised both eyebrows and said, "Ouch. That actually kinda hurt."
"I should've been an actor, man. I missed my calling."
"There's still time."
"Do you think Juilliard would take me?"
"Honestly?" Pope said, giving him a once-over. "No."
"Fuck you, man," JJ shot back, but he was laughing. And as Pope was watching him laugh, he realized where the ache was coming from. From love, but from guilt, too. Because he had deserted this dumb, beautiful, laughing boy, deserted him when he'd needed Pope the most. When they had both needed each other so desperately.
Pope loved JJ, had always loved him. But he had also left him in the fucking dust. That's why his heart hurt.
"I'm sorry, JJ," Pope murmured, voice breaking, and JJ just kept on grinning.
"You should be. Juilliard would totally take me."
Pope swallowed; tried again. A little louder this time. "I'm sorry for abandoning you."
Silence. Horrible, horrible silence. JJ clearly hadn't been expecting this. How could he? Nobody ever apologized to JJ. Not even his own father.
When the silence was broken, JJ's voice was a modest murmur. He shrugged and said, "Shit happens. We were all going through it. Plus, that was, like, years ago."
"I don't think you realize that you deserve to be apologized to," Pope said, looking at him with wide, sad eyes. JJ kept his own eyes on the sand, tracing a sun next to the smiley face. The sun was also smiling.
But JJ's face was solemn when he finally looked over at Pope and said, "I accept your apology."
Pope was so overwhelmed with relief that all he could manage in response was, "Okay." He let out a breath and closed his eyes, only to open them when he felt JJ lean against him.
"Just don't leave again." JJ's voice was as warm as his shoulder. "I missed you."
Pope felt something in his chest twist. "I missed you, too. So much."
There was a new energy between them when they picked up their boards and started heading back to the Chateau. Maybe it had always been there, a stubborn leftover from when they were sixteen. Maybe they had both been too dumb to identify it until now. No, not dumb. Scared.
Pope was still scared, but not of the truth. No, he was afraid nothing would come of it. That they would both go their separate ways yet again, taking fear and regret to their deathbeds.
It wasn't a comforting thought.
So do something. Anything.
They were inches away from the front porch when Pope worked up the courage to reach out and touch JJ's shoulder. "JJ–"
JJ didn't let him finish. He turned around, grabbed Pope's face, and kissed him.
JJ was kissing him.
Holy shit.
Naturally, Pope kissed him back. Kissed him hard. Because he'd been waiting for this. They'd both been waiting.
Pope grabbed JJ by the hips with hungry hands, pulling him closer, and JJ whined against his mouth, eyelashes fluttering. They were both so greedy and desperate and in love, so starved of this moment that they couldn't kiss enough, grab enough, touch enough. As if this were some fleeting dream that could go up in smoke at any second.
When they finally pulled away to catch their breath, JJ grinned and grabbed Pope's hand, dragging him onto the front porch and into the familiar climate of the Chateau. They fell onto the couch in a tangle of electric limbs, laughing, running hands over bare skin. JJ straddled Pope's hips, and Pope looked up at him, taking in his unkempt hair and flustered, smiling face.
There was no better view.
JJ leaned down to hijack Pope's mouth yet again, his teeth catching on Pope's bottom lip. Pope ran his hands up JJ's sides, squeezing here and there, making JJ shudder and laugh into the kiss. Kissing, squeezing, laughing. What better way to spend a Friday night on the Cut?
Eventually they got too tired to fool around; JJ laid with his cheek against Pope's chest and Pope combed his fingers through JJ's hair. Neither of them said a word. There was only the sound of their breathing, gentle and perfectly in sync. This, Pope realized, was the most at peace he'd ever felt.
Then JJ opened his mouth and said, "I went to rehab."
This was news to Pope. His hand went still. "What? When?"
"A year ago. After all the shit with John B I kinda went off the rails." JJ smiled a small, sad smile. "You probably noticed."
Pope recalled quite a few outbursts at school. JJ getting into arguments with teachers. JJ getting into fights with other kids. Pope had been too scared, too bogged down with grief to reach out to him. And now he had to live with the shame.
"I drank too much all the time, just like... Well, you know who," JJ continued, clearing his throat. "I was starting to get into coke when Kie stepped in. She scraped up enough money to send me to a facility on the mainland. I was there for, like, thirty days."
Pope couldn't believe he was just now hearing about this. How could he not know that his childhood best friend spent a month in rehab? That he had been floundering in a cyclone of addiction before that? But this wasn't about Pope and his guilt, not really. It was about JJ. It was about healing.
"And how are you doing now?" Pope asked softly, continuing to run his fingers through JJ's hair.
"Good. Better. I'm... Yeah, I'm a lot better. It's still hard sometimes, but I'm not losing my shit anymore."
Pope held him a little tighter and said, "I'm proud of you, JJ."
"Thanks, man."
"I'm really, really proud of you," Pope repeated, because he'd never meant anything more. But that sincerity must've been too much for JJ, because he made a choking sound and buried his face in Pope's chest, shaking. And Pope felt hot, fresh tears fall against his skin, felt the sting of so many years spent not being celebrated for anything.
He just held JJ even tighter. Was still holding him when they fell asleep.
Pope slept even better than he had the night before. But rather than waking to the smell of burning eggs, he was roused by the smell of coffee. Apparently JJ was competent enough to handle the coffee maker.
Pope yawned and stretched and padded his way into the kitchen, where JJ was leaning against the counter and drinking out of a fish mug. His bleary eyes brightened considerably when Pope came into view.
"Morning," JJ said, voice still a little raspy from sleep, strands of hair sticking up in places. It was cute. He was cute.
"Morning." Pope noticed a second cup of coffee sitting on the counter. "Is that one for me?"
"No shit," JJ snorted, passing it over to him. Pope took a tentative first sip and was touched to find that it was full of cream and sugar. JJ still remembered how he liked his coffee.
It was enough to make Pope smile into the mug.
He joined JJ in leaning against the counter, and they existed in sweet caffeinated silence, drinking out of their respective cups. A few minutes had passed when JJ glanced over at Pope and said, "So... What now?"
Pope couldn't think of a more uncomfortable question. But it had to be asked.
"I dunno," Pope said, shifting a little. "I should probably talk to my parents today."
JJ raised his eyebrows. "You ready for that?"
"Ready as I'll ever be, I guess."
JJ hummed, lifting the fish mug to his lips. "And then what?"
"I think I wanna go back to school at some point," Pope admitted, and JJ went deathly still, as if the prospect of Pope leaving again was a predator that could sense movement. "But when I do," Pope continued slowly, "I want... I need you to come with me."
If JJ was shocked by this, he masked it with a long, dramatic sip of coffee. Then he licked his lips and asked, "What if I say no?"
Pope's heart sank into the deepest, darkest depths of his stomach. The horror must've been reflected on his face, because JJ let out an immediate snort. "I'm kidding. Of course I'll go with you, man."
And just like that, Pope could breathe again.
"I hate you," he muttered, and JJ grinned, tongue poking out from between his teeth.
They both took their sweet time finishing their coffee, JJ waving his mug around recklessly as he talked. It was a miracle he didn't spill anything, but then again, JJ was full of surprises. Pope listened to him ramble, occasionally interjecting with things like don't say that or you're an idiot. But there was a thinly-veiled fondness cradled in the corners of Pope's mouth. A fondness that clashed with the twisting of his stomach when he remembered the inevitable.
Eventually Pope forced himself to set his empty cup on the counter. "I think I'm gonna head out. Get it over with."
"Want me to come with you?" JJ asked, but Pope shook his head.
"Nah, that's okay. I've gotta do this on my own."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure," Pope insisted, even though he was already nauseous with dread. "You stay here and hold down the fort."
JJ smiled and tipped an imaginary cowboy hat. "That's what I do best, baby."
As per usual, Pope was at least partly soothed by JJ's stupidity. Taking a deep breath and then letting it go, he turned to start for the front door, only for JJ to say something else. More soft than stupid this time.
"Wait a minute."
So Pope waited, and then JJ was spinning him around to deliver a long, sweet kiss that made Pope's heart thump happily against his ribs.
"Good luck," JJ mumbled against Pope's lips before letting his hands drop. Pope just blinked at him, horribly in love. But there was nothing horrible about it. Nothing horrible about JJ and his stupid, beautiful face. Nothing horrible about the calloused hands and crooked smile. Nothing horrible about the way they loved each other – had always loved each other.
Nothing horrible at all.
It dawned on Pope that no matter how disappointed his parents were, no matter how much that disappointment stung, he'd still have JJ. He'd always have JJ.
So he wasn't too nervous when he knocked on his old front door.