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jj sits still, unmoving, on the corner of a small bed at the chateau. this house has been a home to him for many years, but he just now comes back to it after being thrown out. a party down at the beach was at full swing, he said he needed air. did anyone suspect him to come here?
he seems to be fixated on his own mind, breathing in the smell of ocean waves and old wood that made up the construction of the building. it's ancient, this shack has been here since the beginning of time, john b would say. you could hear specific patterns on the floorboards as they groaned with every step a pogue took. he would take into account how everyone sounded, john b, big john at one point, pope, kiara, and maybe even sarah if she had been here longer.
he closes his eyes. inhale. exhale.
people would always say that when you close your eyes, you saw nothing. it was just a blank canvas, darkness. but not to 8 year old jj, his was filled up with bright colors that floated around his vision. his wasn't a blank canvas, it was a painting and the coloring just kept on moving. jj had this and nothing else, so he held on tight to the vision of rainbows and patterns that floated in his eyes.
but when he opened his eyes, that was where the darkness was. not his eyes, but the world. so he kept his eyes closed. teachers would yell, friends would yell, and his dad, he would definitely yell. but he always kept them shut.
sometimes he would open them, just to see a glimpse of the world before him, but it just seemed to get darker and darker as he got older. the color drained from his shut eyes and he felt quite empty most days. his mom left soon after he was 10 and he just got older and older without her, the darkness consuming his vision and mind.
pulling his out of his thoughts, he suddenly hears a loud creak from outside his door. just one. he listened in for a pattern but got nothing.
then, creak. a pattern formed. slow, gentle footsteps belonging to, of course, pope.
a knock. thunder. when did it start to rain? how long has jj been in this room? he looks at the alarm clock on a wooden night stand beside the bed, 2:17. it's been 2 hours. god, pope is probably worried sick, he's always worried. he thought to himself as a knock sounded again.
he finally came to his senses there, "c-come in?"
the door was delicately pushed open by a pair of dark hands, and a figure made its way to jj, "where the hell were you?"
"just sitting here." he responds, then looks back down at the floor.
it was dark, the room was hushed with the sound of the sky pouring above them accompaning. it seemed the party had came to an end due to the terribly angry storm that brewed while jj had gotten lost in his mind.
a clap of lightning.
pope walked over to the spot next to jj and sat down. a quiet settled over the house and their respective bodies. it didn't look like anyone was talking soon.
it was so familiar to him. the comfortable silence that jj and pope shared. pope would probably find it awkward, them both just sitting here. but anything was comfortable for jj if it was with pope. maybe he felt the same way, he always wondered, but never actually asked.
outer banks hasn't felt familiar to jj since john b died. it felt strange, he felt strange. everything was wrong, like things were out of place. as if you have a pain somewhere in your body but you don't know where its coming from.
but pope. pope held the sense of familiarity that jj couldn't get anywhere else. nothing felt the same as just looking into each others eyes and laughing their ass's off, or pope's arms around his body comforting him as he sobs on the bathroom floor when he drinks, which is a lot of the time. he knew pope, he knew him better than himself.
thunder. clap. "i love you."
clap. thunder. clap. thunder.
the shouts of mother nature drowns out the sound of a vulnerable jj speaking a truth. sometime, he is going to have to admit a lot of truths to himself. why doesn’t he start here? he is in love with pope. fully in love, rom com, honeymoon, head over heels in love with pope heyward.
thank god for thunder, pope didn’t hear what jj said. jj can’t tell if relief or sadness washes over him when he realizes.
his eyes wander to the clock again, 5 seconds to 2:30.
1. 2. 3. 4. 5.
the battery powered alarm switches to 2:30.
jj has counted all his life, its what kept him safe.
1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.
he would count how times he inhaled, exhaled. he took count on how many freckles he had on his face, and how many times he blinked. always counting, no matter what.
if he didn't have anything count, he would still count. just having those numbers float around his head is what kept him sane through the years. six was his favorite though, sometimes when he was sick he would count to six over and over until he felt better. and then he turned six, that was the best year of his life.
he counted, and counted, and counted, and counted.
on those cold nights with his dad awake he would lay on the floor and count how much time was spent before he got hit again. he didn't have anything else to count, his breaths were short, he couldn't blink, he couldn't walk, he couldn't do anything but count. all he could do was count.
1. 2. 3. 4. punch to the face.
and he would start over.
1. 2- kick in the ribs.
he starts again.
1. 2. 3. 4. 5. two hands to his throat.
with his only source of life and consciousness slipping away, he still counted. counted how long he could last under the hold of his father's rough hands.
1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 12. out.
he would finally end up aching and bruised on the floor beside a couch with a drunkenly sleeping man. he never asked for help. he would wait a few weeks before turning up again around his friends when he knew his black eye was almost unnoticeable, and the bruises around his neck didn't make him wince every time he moved it.
thunder, lightning.
"why'd you come here?" pope asks, turning his head as if he could see jj in the darkness. the only light coming into the house were the holes in the walls and the window above them.
"tired. i guess." jj isn't much of talker, especially about his feelings. he never has been, even when he had a (half) happy family and a bunch of friends. nowadays, its just him and pope.
john b and sarah dying has been the hardest part of the pogues' lives by far, maybe even jj's life too. they haven't talked about it, nobody really knowing what to say. they didn't even talk in general, just went to school, home, sleep.
maybe deep down somewhere, jj wishes they were still as close. they had drifted apart, like john b was the glue of the group. he was the one keeping them together and now he was gone, dragging sarah along with him.
light. thunder.
"i miss him too." pope confides. that was the thing about their friendship, they always knew what the other was thinking. they didn't need to tell each other anything, they just knew.
it was their thing, at least before shit hit the fan.
tonight was the first time they ever saw each other again after john b and sarah got lost in that awful storm. pope went to his place, kiara to hers, and, surprisingly, jj too.
pope's parents insisted jj stay over, but jj was stupid and so goddamn insecure about every little thing he did no matter what it was, so he went home. he walked all the way across the beaches of outer banks to the evil he called home. all because he was too much of an idiot to take up pope's parents' offer. too much of a coward.
too much of a coward to fight back. to ask for help with his broken arm, or the huge gash on the side of his face. he didn't want to bother, so he just sat in painful silence. painful. fucking. silence.
"im sorry. about us not talking." pope speaks again, he seems to be the one doing all the talking.
"don't have to apologize. my fault." jj speaks in short sentences, feeling more and more tired by the second.
"it isn't, and you know that. never your fault." pope mumbles, seeming to be as tired as jj is. regret is a powerful drug, knocks you out pretty quick.
jj leans down on his elbows and scoots up to the pillows at the end of the bed, ignoring that it has no sheets and there are very weirdly placed stains across the mattress.
pope looks back at jj with a furrow in his brow, before following his movements until they are face to face, only the pale moonlight illuminating their profiles just beside each other.
----
pope realized something then. sitting there, in the twin size bed beside him, was jj, just a boy. he couldn't help but notice how the light shines in above his face. how jj's shaggy hair hangs over his eyes. how his lip parts when he inhales and exhales in a symphony.
all that can be heard is slow breathing from each individual and the crashing waves that border the area. the rain stopped a few minutes ago, pope had tried to cover up the holes in this place to not let in any water, but he stopped trying a long time ago. along with a lot of other things in his life.
pope didn't know anything. for someone sk smart, you'd think he'd have everything figured out by now. not jj, though, he never figured out jj, or how he felt towards jj. he didn't ever try to think about his feelings, just trying to stay on track with life follow the path everyone wanted him on.
florence halloway was her name. a beautiful name for a beautiful girl, pope's parents mooned over the green eyed teen.
florence was a sweetheart. the nicest girl you’d ever meet, and pope had the luck of scoring a date with her. things moved forward and he had dated her for almost two years.
pope never understood them. the feelings. he felt them so hard, sometimes all at once. but the problem was, florence wasn’t the cause.
but pope was perfect, and florence was perfect. they were the perfect couple in an imperfect town and they were the only thing setting them apart from the low-life future drug dealers at kildare county high school.
but pope wasn't perfect, and neither was florence. for them to maintain this amazing image, that they'll go to a big university somewhere and end up happily married with four kids with stable finances and just so perfectly perfect, it wasn't true. they weren't telling the truth. pope admits he had planned out their future like that at one point, before he knew what he really did feel.
"did you know that killer whales are actually dolphins? murderers in disguise."
jj unexpectedly grins then rolls his eyes, "stupid ass facts."
pope gets quiet, embarrassed at the remark. *stop talking. stop fucking talking. stop it. stop it.* pope repeat to himself in his mind.
the only times pope ever swears are in his head or if he's angry. (which is almost never, he's one to bottle a lot of things up.) mrs.heyward says that it is informal and will not get him into college, *but who the fuck cares?* jj would ask nonchalantly, as if he had never met his mother a day in his life. he wouldn't understand.
"tell me another one." a timid voice mumbles, breaking the silence from his last remark. pope has never seen jj like this before, so.. shy? its different from the classic jj that he always sees with friends and family. its like peeling away the paint from a very abandoned building. its strange, but most definitely welcomed.
"did you know," pope adjusts himself, placing his head more comfortably on the pillow below it, "falling in love has the same effects as cocaine."
"thank god i've never tried coke." jj murmurs into his pillow, a faded smile appearing onto his face again.
and then it's silent again. the rain seemed to begin another time that night, always the rain.
pope always loved rain. the feeling of warm tears from the sky calmed him down every day. kiara would come to stay over a lot during those days, said she was scared of the thunder storms. kie was tough, but everyone has fears. irrational or not, even pope has some, some he isn't very willing to admit as they're too real for him at the moment.
he has to admit a lot of things. every day it feels like he's just been living a lie. he's been lying to his parents, his friends, everyone. he hasn't been telling the truth, especially to jj.
because right now a boy is laying next to him, just gazing. jj is right there with his blue eyes and his smile and his lips. and pope is so…
happy? not all the way, maybe quarter? quarter happy. pope doesn't know how to describe it. he gets alot of things, but not this. the feeling of being around jj, it’s like a drug.
somewhere deep down in the back of his mind he knows it. that voice. the one all the way back into the cave knows his feelings better than pope does. he always tried to push them down, but that voice will always be louder than his supression.
"hey pope-" jj is interrupted by the crashing of cracked lips against his.
the lips almost miss his, going against the side of his mouth, but they find their place. it isn't a slow, soft, and romantic kiss like they would say in those romance novels pope's mom read. (pope would never admit it, but he would look through them at times.) it was clumsy and fast, like someone trying to get something over with as soon as possible. but pope tried to appreciate every moment of the touch. 4 seconds, it was enough to send chills over his spine.
he places his hand on jj's neck but before he can get closer, as soon as it came the feeling of touch disappears. jj jumps back maybe ten feet, eyes widened and gasping for air. pope springs up and out of the cramped bed and to jj's side in an instant.
“what… was that?” jj asks as he touches his lips with his fingertips, a worried look in his eyes that expresses ‘i am definitely not into you.’
“a.. kiss. because i like you?” he says with a heighten on the last syllable, the sentence sounding like a question.
“i... can we just sleep?” jj asks as he looks anywhere but pope’s eyes. pope feels the reget and hurt setting in, but he says yes. so, jj climbs back in, and that’s the last of it.
----------------------------------------
jj has a dream. a nightmare. was it a dream? was it real? it's too many questions, too many to be answered.
pope kissed him. he quite possibly shot him down, he’s not sure what happened. he fell asleep. was that all a dream?
he woke up. watching the blank walls staring him down. everything was gone. everything that john b had, everything that made john b himself. it happened about a month ago. officials had warned him about "squatting" in a vacant home. and then they took everything.
jj wasn't mad. a little sad, maybe, but he left. he spent most his days sleeping on the beach, or even breaking the rules and sleeping in the house anyways. it was the last of john b, he couldn't let it go. sometimes he would sleep in his own home, those mornings wouldn't go over well.
the warmth had left. the house was cold, no sign of john b from the cracked wallpaper and clean floors not scattered with beer cans or newspapers. for once, it felt like nowhere at all. it wasn't john b, it was just a house now. it wasn't big john, kiara, pope, jj, it was lonely and cold. that life was gone.
he can't stand the empty, the quiet.
a memory floods his head, he can still picture it all. the breeze blowing through his hair, the sharp grass beneath his feet. springing across the same yard he is now. he chases around pope as does john b. zombie tag, a fun but dangerous game to play in the hot summer days in the outer banks. the sun would blanket them in its warmth as they laughed harder than they had any of the years before.
jj remembers when things were simpler, when he could just stay at pope's or john b's and everything would turn out alright. he missed the smell of smoked bacon sizzling in the mornings after long game nights with the pogues. those were the best. uno cards scattered around the floor while they played just dance. singing along to the lyrics, unaware of their futures. big john would blow a whistle, signaling it was time to go home. he would always pull jj aside to tell him that he had an extra pair of pajamas for him, no matter the circumstances. jj thought he couldn't say it, but he really misses big john.
the memory is swiftly shattered as he looks ahead of him remembering his place. he runs now, far, far away from the confrontation of feelings.
-------------------------------
its been a week. a week since he saw jj, and its fine. kiara told him she had seen him at the beach, no beer in his hand, just sitting. pope wish he could say he's happy that he's not drinking, but it's a little strange. jj always drinks, or smokes. it's abnormal, but its there, the feeling he could describe it as pride. he's proud of jj.
the front door of his shack flies open, uncovering a blonde, blue eyed boy.
speak of the devil. pope thinks.
jj holds a bag in his right hand, clear yet still masking what's inside. jj smiles slightly, before letting go of the bag on top of the table beside the door.
"hey." he finally says.
pope doesn’t answer, just gives a wave and continues making breakfast.
"i’m sorry.” jj says after a beat of silence.
pope looks up, “you don’t have to apologize. it’s okay if you don’t like me back. we can just stay friends, yeah?”
"i don’t wanna be friends.” jj interrupts pope.
”oh, well. that’s kinda of rude, but that’s okay. we can just, never speak again, if that’s what you want.”
jj smacks his forehead and squeezes his eyes shut, “god damnit! no! that’s not what i mean, i don’t want to be friends. i want to kiss you again.”
pope immediately stops what he was doing. did he just say that?
jj stands there, next to the bag on the table, waiting for an answer he might not get.
pope walks over to where jj is standing, and reaches down to take his hand, their fingers interlock as pope begins to speak, "whats in the bag?"
jj takes a look beside him at the table. the cracks in it seem to blend together, making a pattern. art of its own. with his free hand, he grabs a small book out of the bag on top of it.
‘fun science facts’, the novel says on the front, accompanied by many images of aquatic animals, medical pictures, and statistics.
"who's it for?" pope wonders out loud.
"what do you mean? it’s for you, dumbass."
pope laughs, "really? why?" it's a genuine question, why him?
"it reminded me of you." he says quietly, like a secret between them.
it looks worn out, the pages slightly ripped on the sides. but its perfect.
"thank you." pope grins.
silence overwhelms them once again. its always so quiet between them ever since they got older. it used to be easy to talk to each other about anything. laugh until they cried, but now there just this strange tension that pope doesn't know how to fix. he wish he knew how, maybe things would be okay again.
"i wanna be friends, jj." pope says. he’ll admit that he just wants to tease jj like he did.
jj looks up at pope from his scuffed up boots, then sighs. "okay. that’s fine.”
"but i want to kiss you on a daily basis, and go on dates, and hold hands. do.. you want to do that?" pope asks, leaving it out in the open.
jj's jaw drops, shocked, but he tries to remain composed.
"oh.” he clears his throat, and looks down. a speechless jj, it’s a sight to see.
when he finally looks up from where he was looking at their joined hands, a tinge of warmth seems to wash over jj as he begins to bring a wide smile to his face
“is that a yes?” pope questions, before pope grabs his face in his hands and brings his lips to his.
love.
the feeling of love wasn't between kiara, or florence, or any other person he had met in his life. it was the boy he had known since he was seven, he was right here all along.
acceptance.
it had been hard for a very long time. pope understands it now. the feeling of guilt over who he was had been looming over him all his life, he was just better at masking it than jj. acceptance is like the sunny aftermath of a rainstorm. its cold and dark, but then you learn that storms mean that it's just washing everything away. and the rainbow after it just fills you with happiness and warmth because you know you're safe now. pope is safe.
happiness.
against all odds he gave himself, jj feels the knife between his body slowly come out. it's painful, but it means that he’s safe now. he's not sitting in the hell hole he calls home, he's not mourning in john b's house, he's where he needs to be. half happy.
half happy. its the start of something new. its slow, painful, and hard. but they're both almost there.