Work Text:
A brother shares childhood memories and grown-up dreams.
--
John B Routledge was the kid that made JJ Maybank want to become the best surfer on the island at age eight.
And sure, eight year olds tend to carry an embarrassing abundance of ambitions on their small shoulders, most of which are unrealistic and silly, born from that special childhood innocence that a lot of parents just shake their heads at fondly, encouraging it nonetheless because that’s just what you did, that’s what childhood was for.
But that didn’t dampen either of the boys' spirits once they set their very young sights on something, especially once they put their enthusiastic heads together -- off-the-beaten-track was their favorite place to be. So deciding on such a goal while JJ was still in third grade wasn’t that left-field.
Thing was, JJ wasn’t one of those kids with an innocent childhood, nor did he have the parents to cheer him on because life just happened to give him a shitty hand in that particular area. It was fine, he was fine, maybe he didn’t need them after all. Just because he grew up knowing not everyone got a pair of happy parents and was forced to realize it the day his mother never came home didn’t mean he couldn’t have dreams.
He knew he could have those dumb little ambitions because even though most kids in his grade were fed up with his mouth by the third week into school, even though a lot of them wouldn’t hesitate to call it stupid to think he could ever strive for such things, that’s where John B came in.
In all his curly haired and freckled face glory.
JJ, shortly after practically leeching himself to the boy's side, learned that John B shared in his shortage of parents-that-encouraged-just-because. At the time, even in terms of parents that just sorta showed up, John B was one short compared to JJ but it never seemed to matter because he was a dreamer, through and through.
John B was just as eager as JJ when it came to surfing and was the first to tell him he could easily be the best if he wanted. He was JJ’s first choice when it came to a surf buddy and his favorite person to talk to about his stupid little dreams when they were paddling their nimble bodies across the water at dawn on Saturday mornings, sky cloudy with colors of morning twilight stretched calmly across the horizon.
“One day I wanna compete. Ya know, like in a championship.”
“Yeah? Like ESA contests?”
“Yeah,” JJ grins over at John B, pausing from paddling to wet his hair. “Like start out on local district level competitions when I’m old enough and then go from there, like regional level qualifiers. My mom tells me all about them.”
John B stops paddling too, sitting up on his board, nodding and smiling over at JJ.
“Dude, you could totally do it!”
“You think?”
“Hell yeah, bro. The Mid-Atlantic Regionals? They’d be a breeze for you, and then there’s The Easterns. You’d definitely make it.”
JJ feels a swell of excitement in his chest at just the thought. He lowers himself back on his board, shrugging as his arms relish in the coolness of the water. “You could do it too. Compete, I mean. We could do it together.”
John B shakes his head, gripping the rails of his board distractedly. “Nah, I can’t switch-foot like you.”
JJ scoffs. “That doesn’t mean I’m better-- “
“And you practice way more than me.”
“Dude, you’re out here with me almost every time-- “
John B suddenly lightly splashes JJ in the face, snickering while quickly adjusting himself to paddle away to avoid a full blown water war. “Modesty looks weird on you, I swear, it’s like looking at a stranger right now-- “
“Fuck off,” JJ laughs, still getting in a couple of splashes before John B’s out of reach.
The problem arose after they had spontaneously decided to skip school one day to surf instead. At first it was fine, perfect, even, to the point JJ struggled to picture a more ideal day. He was on the water with his best friend, getting out of school to practice his technique while also just soaking in the sun and messing around with no one to tell them what to do. Honestly, what more could he ask for?
It wasn’t until someone had spotted them and made it their business as to why they weren’t in school, asking where their parents were, that JJ started to feel really fucking peeved.
Fuck ‘em, he thought as soon as John B tried to charismatically reason with the woman, luckily taking over. Why did she care anyway?
JJ wanted to get back to surfing so he lied and said they had the day off. He was pretty confident it would’ve checked out if the woman who had asked them wasn’t a mom herself, who had kids that went to school and knew for a fact they were flat out skipping.
John B had relented, convincing JJ that it was no sweat off their backs after they were forced to leave. Even after the woman had made a dirty comment under her breath about parents on the Cut being inept in watching their children and that if they couldn't take care of them then they shouldn’t have had them in the first place, blah blah blah. Very political and nosy, in JJ’s opinion because again, why should she care?
Before they even left the beach John B was all over it, joking about the parents on the Cut and quoting the woman in a clipped and nasally voice that made JJ nearly trip in their trek through the dense stretch of property several times from laughing so hard.
After they finally calmed down, the decision had to be made on where their special place would be.
“Somewhere where haughty ass people won’t bother us, whether we’re skipping or not. Somewhere where New Balance wearing adults with their oversized umbrella hats don’t even know about,” John B had explained, carrying his surfboard over his head as he jumped over a fallen tree. “Somewhere just for us.”
JJ liked the idea. Not having to put up with New Balance umbrella hat-wearing adults sounded good to him.
“I like the way your brain ticks, comrade, but where? Does a place that nice even exist?”
“I dunno.”
Then, after a moment, John B snickers.
“Imagine if that woman knew my mom dipped. She probably woulda lost her mind, knowing yet another person on the Cut had a kid they didn’t want.”
JJ looks over at him, his own surfboard rubbing against his hip as it hangs in his arm with long pieces of grass brushing his legs, a little caught off guard.
Rarely was JJ ever caught off guard when it came to the shit John B shared. If anything, JJ usually expected it, was prepared for anything he said and anticipated his moves according to his very familiar behavior. JJ knew what to say to make him laugh and he knew what he looked like before he cussed something out like the table he keeps hitting his leg on or his line when it got tangled in some marshy sludge. He was pretty sure the kids filter was damaged. Not broken, per se, but definitely compromised, at least around JJ. He didn’t hold back often so JJ wasn’t really surprised by his jab at his mom by any means, just a little thrown.
Thrown and wondering whether or not this was one of those moments where he could say something about his own parents and not immediately want to take it back the second it left his mouth. John B understood, for the most part, but there were still things he just couldn’t get, even if his mom left him and his dad could be better at keeping him in the know as far as where he went on the weekends.
No, that wasn’t right. JJ looks at the ground for some help. If John B’s mom bailed and his dad sucked at communicating, what did that make his parents? Where his mom no longer said goodnight or cooked dinner or packed his lunch or picked him up from school, no longer talked to him like she used to or spent time with him as she sat in the living room and painted some abstract piece JJ couldn’t take his eyes off of, where his dad barely gave him the time of day outside of the cuffs on his head and yelling so loud the neighbors came knocking on their door before calling the cops -- because it had to be really bad to call the cops on the Cut.
JJ barely has to bend over to grab some grass and rip it from the ground, letting it fall and get carried away by the wind.
“She definitely would’ve blown a cap, bro,” he digresses with a small forced chuckle, “knowing such injustice took place ‘round here.”
John B laughed. JJ smiled, and silently hoped they were done talking about moms leaving and parents not wanting them because he’s not sure he has it in him to reassure John B that having it any other way just wasn’t the case for him. For either of them.
--
Their special place was for days they skipped school.
And occasionally when it was just them on the weekends, when Pope was stuck in his room doing homework or running around the island with his dad and helping with deliveries and Kie was attending some Club party against her will or assisting her dad at The Wreck.
And when JJ needed a distraction, apparently. Something to pull his attention away from his tingling fingers and his throbbing cheek.
The entire walk to the Chateau had been quiet but his head was spinning in comparison and all he could do was try and focus on what was around him to stop from tearing his hair out.
The delicate sound of a wind chime a few houses down, a dog’s bark echoing in the humid air while it dragged its chain around the concrete, a couple sitting on their porch as they smoked, rocking on their swing that was covered in chipping paint.
JJ looked down then, not wanting to give them a chance to see why Luke yelled so loud at night. He figured if he didn’t see their pity then maybe they wouldn’t give it. Blocking it out took practice that, luckily, JJ has had plenty of.
By the time he reaches the Chateau he takes no less of a gentle approach with the Routledges screen door as he had with his own when he walked out this morning. John B was sprawled on the couch with his phone on his bare chest, a small dust covered fan quietly buzzing in the corner.
As soon as JJ all but throws the screen open, John B nearly drops his phone, sitting up a little straighter, relaxing only when he sees who it is.
“Shit, you scared me,” John B says with a small chuckle, scrubbing a hand through his messy hair as he tosses his phone to the side.
JJ ignores him, too busy biting the inside of his mouth until it bled. He walks straight through the living room and into the kitchen, yanking open the refrigerator, eyes skimming without actually looking for anything. He brings the collar of his t-shirt up to wipe his eye that wouldn’t stop tearing up, a little harder than he needed to.
It stings like no other, making his vision blurry, making him wonder whether it was bleeding or not. He doesn’t really care enough to check, though. Made no difference.
“JJ, what’s up, man?” He hears John B ask through a yawn as he gets up and stretches his back.
JJ doesn’t answer. He was probably napping, he thinks absently, reaching for a half drank Gatorade that he knew John B had gotten the day before and turning to jump up on the kitchen counter, letting the refrigerator door fall shut.
“You good-- “ John B stops beside the refrigerator, eyes on JJ’s face as he slowly lowers his hand from his hair. JJ clears his throat, looking down at the floor.
Why did he have to look like a kicked puppy sometimes?
“I’m fine,” JJ dismisses before chugging the Gatorade, leaning his shoulders against the cabinets and bouncing his foot from where it hung off the counter. John B reaches for the bottle, pulling it away before JJ yanks it back.
“Dude-- “
“JB, I’m good-- “
“What, another Kook fight, I’m assuming?”
JJ raises his eyebrows. “Ha. That’s very funny, the fuck do you think?”
“JJ, seriously-- “
“John B!”
John B turns around, shaking his head, his back towards JJ for a second. “I don’t get it.”
“You don’t have to,” JJ says simply, trying to keep his voice even. Both of them sit there for a second before John B turns back to look at JJ, his eyes forcing JJ to look anywhere but because sometimes he just wishes to be ignored. Not ignored, but not looked at, with so much hurt and concern that he didn’t have the first clue on what to do with it, especially now, especially when his eye won’t stop fucking tearing up and his heart is still beating out of his chest and he’s not really sure he can feel his fingers because this has to be what a heart attack feels like--
At least it’s not pity. John B didn’t do pity with JJ and JJ was more than grateful, never treated him any differently like other people would.
He points the bottle at John B, shaking his head sharply. “Whatever you’re thinkin’ right now, stop. It’s not happening.” JJ slides off the counter, walking around his friend while still not looking at him and aiming for the couch. He wipes his eye again, sniffing loudly in irritation.
It was a conversation that JJ despised more than he could comprehend, explaining to John B why he couldn’t say anything about Luke. It was a different excuse every time; it wasn’t as bad as it looks, other kids dealt with the same shit, he didn’t want to get taken away. And somewhere under all the frustration and concern, JJ knew John B understood it, hardly blamed him for bringing it up every once in a while when JJ was clearly not trying to hide it but that didn’t make it any easier to convince him to drop it. One of the very few times JJ’s raised his voice towards him was when he brought up Kiara and Pope asking about him.
Having them know would irreversibly complicate things. There was no way of knowing how Pope would look at him if he found out, what Kiara would think of him…
John B stands in the kitchen for a moment longer before following JJ.
“Shit, I’m sorry, I know you come here to… get away from it, but,” John B pauses. Now he’s the one who can’t keep eye contact, now looking towards the door with something like disgust on his face. JJ wonders who it’s meant for before swallowing hard and busying himself with the bottle in his hand, hoping John B didn’t choose right this second to indulge in his hate for Luke Maybank.
Won’t make a difference. JJ twirls the bottle distractedly, flipping the orange cap like a coin, eyes shifting to watch the blue liquid swish around before drinking the rest. No fucking use.
“I just wanna know if you’re okay,” John B finally finishes in a small voice. JJ holds the now empty bottle in his lap and slowly bobs his head.
JJ? Okay? Was he okay? Probably not.
“Yup. All is good.”
John B gives him a long look, eyes turning humorous. “Really? ‘Cause you got that blind rage thing goin’ on-- “
JJ rolls his eyes, smiling a little as he flicks the orange cap at his friend, missing by a few inches. “Fuck you.”
“Bro, I’m just sayin’,” John B shrugs, linking his hands and setting them behind his neck before going back into the kitchen for something. “It’s kinda hard to tell when to be worried about you lately.”
JJ guesses he means it as a joke but it still hits a little close because John B wasn’t supposed to worry about him. Even the thought digs up feelings that were better left ignored, like hauling up a net full of sludge and seaweed as opposed to a profitable load of drum.
He tosses the bottle back again, feeling the last couple of drops on his tongue before shaking his head innocently. “Oh contraire, you don’t have to worry about me. There, problem solved.”
“I don’t think that’s how that works,” John B counters, giving up with what he was looking for in the kitchen before collapsing onto the couch beside JJ. “‘Specially when you come banging around my house like some pissed off nutter.”
JJ laughs, knowing for sure it was a joke from the amount of times John B has insisted the house was open to him.
“Damn, old man, gonna chase me with your walker for dirtying up your lawn too?”
“Yeah. Damn kids,” John B quips.
“Didn’t know it was your house, John B. You paying rent now?”
“Not yet.”
“Hmm,” JJ flips the bottle again, distantly wondering what that meant. Was Big John going to start making John B contribute to rent? Maybe it was none of his business. He wants to think it was wrong but who was he to say what was right when it came to parenting?
He shrugs, pressing on with a lighter subject. “Well, I wasn’t banging around just so you know. I was actually pretty quiet-- “
John B calmly looks over at him. “You’re never quiet.”
“Yes, I am! You would know if you weren’t asleep-- “
“I wasn’t asleep-- “
“Yeah you were, ‘cause you sleep like a two year old and an eighty year old all at once.”
John B narrows his eyes dramatically, a smile crossing his puzzled face. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“You either sleep for twelve hours straight or not at all. Always have,” JJ says confidently, leaving little room for debate.
“Do elderly people not sleep?”
“I don’t think so,” JJ dismisses, like it was obvious. John B snorts, taking the bottle from JJ’s fidgeting hands and getting up before tossing it in the trash, missing easily by a couple of feet.
“C’mon, get up. We’re going surfing,” John B announces, not bothering to pick the bottle up before opening the door to the porch.
JJ immediately notices the time and groans.
“Bro! It’ll be packed right now,” he whines, following his friend anyways through the porch and out to where they kept their boards. Where JJ kept his boards now, all two of them, ever since he got home one night and found his first one broken. He still remembers the day his mom came home with it, setting it in the back of their truck to take him to the beach and teach him how to surf.
He kicks the dirt at the memory, watching John B set aside one of the older boards that belonged to his dad. “I don’t wanna deal with newbies eating shit then having to refrain from running them over. It’ll be too tempting.”
“You don’t have to run anyone over, dude,” John B reassures, handing JJ one of the new boards he knew he liked practicing on. “We’re not going to those beaches.”
JJ smiles at the realization of which beach they were going to. “What if I want to?” he asks, taking the board, “run people over, I mean.”
“Maybe some other time,” John B answers casually, grabbing his own board and jogging until they were heading towards the road.
On their walk they debate, rather passionately, who was going to end up using a walker first, agreeing whoever it ended up being would be lame as fuck. By the time they arrive at their special place JJ starts racing John B to the water, winning by just a few steps and savoring the warmth of the water as he relaxes on his board for a moment.
Open and empty and all to themselves, exactly what he needed to forget the stresses that cemented in his bones.
--
The list of reasons to utilize their special place seemed to grow the older they got, its effectiveness never wavering. It wasn’t always the obvious answer but by the time they found themselves stumbling through the weeds leading up to the small beach, the escape always helped.
Unaware of what time it was, JJ stares at the back of the pullout with drowsy eyes, annoyingly adjusted to the darkness from how long he’s been awake. He couldn’t guess the time if he wanted to, just remembers feeling dead tired after spending all day in the sun helping Heyward with deliveries and then collapsing on the couch. At some point he must’ve fallen asleep because he was soon yanked out of it when he heard a small clatter in the kitchen, along with the sink running and the sound of water hitting a pan.
John B was doing fucking dishes now.
Of all the things to turn to when he was struck with his ‘I’m not tired’ bug. Even though he blamed it on the fact that he had gotten a lot of sleep the night before -- which was just not true in the slightest, JJ happened to know, from being woken up to find him wide awake and digging through random boxes of shit in his room -- JJ knew it was because it’s been almost eight weeks since Big John has been home.
And even though JJ could call John B paranoid in some aspects, courtesy of their long friendship, this wasn’t exactly the time, because he was beginning to feel worried too.
Big John spent a lot of time away from home, it was no secret. But he also never spent this long away -- it felt wrong to JJ to have gone so long without seeing him, he could only guess what John B was feeling.
He had a pretty good idea from the amount of time he’s spent with him lately, not wanting him to be completely alone in the old fish shack. But that didn’t make it any easier when he woke up in the middle of the night to find John B spiraling in an attempt to find answers.
Answers JJ’s not sure Big John even left for him.
A while after the sink turns off, JJ assumes John B had finally called it a night when he hears a crash in one of the bedrooms.
He jolts up, nearly jumping out of his skin before he makes out a sliver of light pouring from the room off from the kitchen. Big John’s office.
Shit.
JJ sighs as he gets to his feet, running his hands through his hair as he makes his way through the dark living room to the office. It was strange, at first, reaching for the door, because he knew he wasn’t allowed in the room. He felt like by just touching the door he was crossing some invisible boundary that would surely lead to a hard lecture, but he’s only met with silence and the inside of the room he didn’t know too well.
He stops in his tracks as soon as he sees it, the mess of papers sprawled all over the floor along with John B, not looking much better, thumbing through a stack of folders, completely lost in his own little world.
“Fuck, dude, it looks like a bomb went off in here,” JJ says, still rubbing the sleep from his eye when John B jumps.
“Shit,” John B glances up at JJ before going back to his folders, “did I wake you up?”
“Nah, that loud ass crash did, though.”
“Yeah, sorry,” John B mumbles distractedly, setting the stack of folders aside a little aggressively once he apparently deems them worthless before peering around the table in the middle of the room.
JJ takes a few long breaths, trying to gauge how difficult this was going to be. “Hey.”
“Hmm?”
“This is your dad's office, bro.”
“Yeah?” John B glances over at him again from his place on the floor before standing up and pushing aside some books on the table, which fall to the floor. JJ narrows his eyes at the mess, scratching the back of his neck.
“I just thought you weren’t supposed to be in here,” he says slowly, “I mean did he give you a key?”
“I have a key,” John B answers, though it’s not exactly what JJ was hoping for.
JJ’s eyes scan the room nervously, noticing the way John B occasionally mumbles to himself as his finger glides across the surface of a journal, the words, JJ assumes.
JJ clears his throat. “It’s two in the morning, JB. Maybe this can wait-- “
“It can’t,” John B argues, quickly running a hand through his disheveled hair and JJ has to stop himself from staring because for half a second it’s not John B in front of him but Big John, with the messily distracted behavior and distinctly razor sharp focus he’s seen in the man’s demeanor a handful of times in the past, when he was too captured by his work to notice anything else around him. It made him a little uneasy, seeing the resemblance after all of the times John B’s criticized his dad for his habits.
“People don’t just disappear,” John B goes on, “they always leave a trail, something to trace, something that gives them away even when they don’t wanna be found.”
JJ frowns. “You think he doesn’t wanna be found?”
John B shakes his head confidently. “No, but he’s never been gone this long, JJ, and he hasn’t answered his phone in weeks. Usually if it’s a longer trip he checks in.”
“Well,” JJ carefully treads, “do you even know what you’re looking for? I mean,” he swallows, taking in the room again, “there has to be at least a hundred leads in just this room alone.”
“I don’t know! I don’t know, I didn’t-- “ John B stops beside the door, staring at the bookcase that sat against the wall with something like panic in his eyes. “We got in a huge fight before he left, I didn’t get to hear him out! And I didn’t want to ask when he’d be back because he always just gave these shit excuses-- “
“John B-- “
John B swings his arm out and swipes the items off of the shelf, causing them to fall to the floor in a loud heap, some of it making a cracking noise. JJ shoots forward, immediately reaching out to stop him from breaking anything else, grabbing his arms and pulling him away.
“Hey, hey, hey, just stop, dude, seriously-- “
John B turns in his hold and ends up shoving JJ against the door, tightly gripping his shoulders and shaking a little.
JJ feels the door handle get pushed into his back as he tenses, his grasp on John B’s arms becoming more desperate once he finds himself bracing for a blow.
It doesn’t come, though he can still feel his heartbeat in his throat as John B quickly lets go, making him flinch in the slightest when he pulls his hands back just as swiftly as they were on him.
“Fuck,” John B panics, “I’m sorry, man, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-- “
John B backtracks, stepping away from JJ before raising his arms again, this time placing them on his bowed head, suddenly sounding a little out of breath. JJ swallows hard and tries to find his voice, failing for a moment as he remains pressed against the door, frozen in place.
Shit. They couldn't both have an anxiety attack at the same time, that would be bad. How would that even work? Usually one of them was grounded enough to reel the other in and as JJ stood in his rigid position against the door he knew one thing off the top of his head, and that was right now, John B was about to completely lose his shit. He’s been on the brink of it for weeks so JJ tells himself to pull it together and take over.
He was good at that. Pulling it together.
“I’m sorry, JJ, I shouldn’t’ve-- “ John B goes on, finally snapping JJ out of his panic. His eyes were fixed on John B’s crouched form and only when he clumsily collapses against the wall does JJ move.
“Hey, it’s fine, bro,” JJ dismisses as casually as he can, lowering himself in front of John B and hesitantly grabbing his shoulder firmly. “Just calm down, alright?”
“I wanted him gone, JJ! I told him I didn’t care if he came-- if he came back or not!” John B finally starts crying, making JJ wonder if intruding on his little midnight run through of evidence made it all worse. JJ felt frozen in place all over again because he was stranded without a map when it came to these kinds of things.
Kiara did better with emotions, had the heart and the gentleness to ease a special calm into any situation on instinct, it seemed. He would know, being on the receiving end of her soft rational words and compassionate embrace a couple of times before, always left a little in awe of it, of her. Pope had the logic to recognize the symptoms and the will to execute the appropriate course of action when needed, actually proving to be quite anchoring when one of them started to freak out. Hell, even John B had the amiable approach, knew the right thing to say without even trying that hard. But JJ? What did he have? He knew what to do with physical traumas but emotional ones?
He was kinda screwed in that particular area.
And none of this was helping John B as he continued to gasp through his words and clutch his chest, JJ knew, but he was also struck by how familiar it was to watch. Not from seeing it through John B but from himself.
He shakes his head, reaching his other hand out to John B’s opposite shoulder and squeezing. He distantly remembers someone -- probably Kie, honestly -- saying something about how touching was a no-no in this sort of thing. But John B wasn’t sensitive to touch like JJ was, not even now, evident from how he wasn’t exactly pulling back so JJ considers it a step in the right direction.
He kneels uncomfortably on top of the shit that fell from the bookcase, biting his cheek hard. “John B, slow down for a sec, all right? You’re kinda freakin’ me out, dude.”
John B’s eyes are red now, meeting JJ’s for a moment. He stops rambling on, too, just pauses to steady his breathing.
JJ smiles. “That’s right, ‘atta boy. You’re good, bro, I got you. Just… breathe. All right?”
“The last thing I said to him,” John B hiccups, “I told him he was a shit father!”
JJ bows his head before shaking it. “Don’t. That’s not your fault, JB. You can’t think about that shit right now.”
John B’s chest convulses again as a half swallowed sob escapes him.
“How can I not? It’s been almost eight weeks, JJ! He’s technically considered missing and people are starting to notice! As in DCS and cops and fucking teachers, it feels like they’re all breathing down my neck-- “
“I know, dude,” JJ offers pathetically, even though he kinda didn’t. At least not about DCS. That’s moderately concerning.
JJ’s lost a parent without warning though, and has had adults breathe down his neck occasionally when he couldn’t hide the bruise quite right. Not the adults that actually counted, that is, because JJ wasn’t the only one on the Cut that dealt with the sort of things that people called the cops for, even if it was seldom. He always imagined cops just got tired of dealing with kids like him.
John B’s chest rises and falls sporadically. “He wouldn’t just leave me, JJ. He always comes back! You have to believe me!”
“I do, John B. I get it, trust me.”
John b suddenly pulls himself forward and wraps his arms around JJ, nearly causing him to fall in the haphazard pile of fallen books and papers. He quickly recovers his balance and hugs him back, feeling him suck in a few more breaths before slowing down.
“I miss him so much.”
“I know,” JJ mumbles honestly, “me too.”
It comes out a little shaky as he tries to push down the swell of hurt that rose just then because he hadn’t let himself think about it yet, after all the weeks, that he could lose Big John too. He was too concerned with John B, making sure he didn’t do something stupid while trying to make it on his own that he hadn’t even considered what losing Big John would mean for him. He’s the only adult that comes to mind when he thinks of who to trust -- Heyward as a close second but he knew the man had standards, didn’t like the way JJ behaved and influenced Pope so much.
Big John was steady at being enough for JJ, never crowding his space or asking too many questions or prying into things he kept quiet for a reason.
And now he might’ve lost that.
This isn’t about you, it’s about John B, he scolds, it’s his dad that’s missing, not yours.
“We can look through this shit tomorrow,” he offers in an attempt to divert their all too devoted attention to something far less consuming. “But right now, you need to get up and get your trunks on, dude. Don’t think you’d wanna get your pajamas wet.”
John B lets go and gives JJ an expression that shows he’s trying to sync up with him. His breath catches a few times before he swallows. “At… two in the morning? You want me to-- “
“Yup.” JJ pats John B’s shoulder, letting his hand linger to make sure he was finally relaxing before standing, grabbing the books he was sitting on and placing them on the shelf. “I caught your sorry ass doing dishes in the middle of the night, which means you clearly need some help. That’s kinda the deal.”
John B runs both hands through his hair, looking around the room, letting out a weak scoff. “I don’t remember making that shitty deal.”
“That’s ‘cause you’re sleep deprived, my friend.”
“I’m not-- maybe we just needed clean dishes.”
“Uhh, we always need clean dishes but since when does that mean we actually clean ‘em?”
JJ walks out of the office, acting wide awake despite feeling five seconds away from falling back asleep. Blinking the tiredness from his eyes he walks over to his backpack, grabbing his swim shorts before he hears John B slowly follow.
“So night surfing? Tonight?” he asks, his cheeks still blotchy from crying though JJ can make out a hint of amusement.
“Yeah, can’t do it in the morning, then it wouldn’t be night surfing.”
“And your solution to my supposed sleep deprivation has to take place at two in the morning? That’s what you’re puttin’ down, isn’t that, like, counter intuitive?”
JJ laughs, trying to shake the fatigue from his muscles, holding up a finger. “First off, it’s not supposed, that shits obvious a mile away and second, you’re the one who woke me up in the middle of the night so yes, make yourself decent or not, I don’t care, but we’re going night surfing at two in the morning.”
Actually saying it out loud hypes JJ up. He loved surfing, no matter the time of day, but there was something special about night surfing. Having to feel for the waves as opposed to seeing them, the nearly blind pursuit sending pure adrenaline through his veins every time. Even if the risk of paddling straight into a fall line went up to a level that would have Kiara scolding him for a week, especially being as tired as he was, it was worth it. It held a level of danger but JJ loved dangerous shit.
It left him buzzing with excitement by the time they were walking through the familiar weeds and logs thrown over the dark walkway to their spot, the pink, blue and white glow sticks wrapped around their wrists acting as their guides.
Once they reach the sand they stop, surfboards in arms and just stare out at the water for a moment. JJ peers over at John B, who had two glow sticks loosely hanging around his neck, casting a blue light over his features, which were relaxed.
JJ smiles, readjusting his own pink glow stick around his forehead like some sort of crown, gazing back out at the water. The moon was high and bright, giving just enough visibility to make JJ’s fingers itch in anticipation.
“Hell yeah. This should wear you right out.” He nudges John B in the shoulder before jogging out to the water.
It wasn’t as cold as he expected, especially for just having woken up, it was just nice, refreshing. Once JJ became adjusted to the light, he could make out the swells, skillfully estimating the speed and eagerly trying to match it while paddling.
Thanks to the glow sticks he could also see John B a few yards away, sitting peacefully on his board and looking up towards the sky. At the stars, probably. JJ’s eyes follow his line of sight and immediately become glued to the sky, which held speckles of constellations that he didn’t know the names of.
Then again, he could never quite make out the shapes on his own, just saw clusters of white until John B pointed them out, explaining the name and the Greek myths behind them, likely the same way Big John had explained them to him.
JJ looks back over at John B, wondering if he was thinking about his dad now, maybe in a better light than before. With less worry and more optimism of his return. Because he had to return, JJ decides.
Big John would come back home, it was just a matter of time.
--
Midnight passes by quicker than three a.m., but by the time the dingy clock that hung on the wall for as long as JJ could remember, made out to look like a compass around the edges, shows four a.m., the hours crawl, as if to rub his nose in it. That sleep was not coming tonight, even though catching just a few hours would put his mind in some semblance of ease, some sense of rest from the chronic pacing thoughts that have clouded his brain lately. The same thoughts that have driven him towards more alcohol than he cares to keep track of, and have made him a little more sensitive to the news and have forced him into more fights than ever before in his life, getting him fired from jobs and giving him bruises that didn’t really get to heal before the next round came.
But sleep hadn’t come last night or the night before or even the night before that so he didn’t expect it tonight. He wasn’t gullible and he didn’t like getting his hopes up. He wanted them as low as possible before being completely obliterated.
JJ tosses and turns, restlessly staring up at the dark ceiling fan, glancing at the bricks stacked up the wall and counting the wooden panels on the ceiling, wondering if this was how John B felt at night. Not being able to latch onto the exhaustion that edged his vision almost mockingly, even though he knew he needed it badly.
Because the truth was he was tired. Like the spacing out in the middle of conversations and forgetting to tie his boots and losing track of time tired. His whole body was filled to the brim with weariness, had been for a few days because sleep remained stubbornly just out of reach for him, but it didn’t really matter. After it struck midnight, it seemed obvious he had to stay up.
To stay up and wait for John B to come home, even if it’s been almost three months since he’s seen his face.
He had to stay awake and wait because it’s been exactly a whole year since Big John disappeared, nine months since declared dead, three months since his son was supposedly swallowed by the ocean, which technically painted the picture of JJ losing two of the most important people in his life in just one year and that…
That just wasn’t possible.
It was because life has proven to be fond of chewing him up and spitting him out but it wasn’t at the same time. He refused to believe it.
He wasn’t gullible. And he didn’t like getting his hopes up. He just didn’t like being alone.
So he stayed awake, sometimes motionless and staring and sometimes rolling over and blinking from the soreness in his eyes. Eventually the sunrise slowly lights up the living room, finally giving him an excuse to sit up and stretch his stiff muscles.
The house was still empty, no John B in sight.
For as long as he can handle it he ignores Kiara’s texts, asking where he was and what he was doing. Even if a year ago things were pretty messy as far as her involvement with the Pogues, JJ was pretty sure she knew what day it was.
That much was made obvious when she seemed to be reaching a blatant level of worry.
I don’t think you should be alone today, JJ.
His eyes immediately land on alone today and his brain just sorta clicks.
That sounded like a good idea.
She texts back less than a minute later.
We don’t have to do anything, we can just hang out.
Just tell me where you are.
Please.
JJ?
JJ holds his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes until he sees lights dancing behind his eyelids.
Hello??
Popes name then pops up at the top of his screen, only it’s a meme, because he knew JJ and he probably knew he was ignoring Kiara with her approach. It’s not even one of the ones he sends in the group chat that included some advanced humor that JJ couldn’t appreciate. This one was actually pretty funny.
Which meant Pope was worried too. Fuck.
He picks up his phone from where it vibrated at his feet on the step of the porch, scrolling through his collection of memes and sending one that he knew Pope wouldn't like, one that had a ‘redundant amount of explanation’.
Ten seconds later Kiara’s name pops up.
Are you texting Pope?? Wtf
He finally clicks on her name to type out a quick response.
Are YOU texting Pope?
Well, he’s actually answering me.
He jumps when he hears a car door slam in the distance, echoing in the stagnant and humid morning air. For half a second he forgets about his phone and looks around at the front of the house eagerly.
He’s delusional, turns out, thinking John B would just show up in some car rather than make an island-wide scene like how he went out, completely off the hook that was the law and ready to continue his life like none of the last few months ever happened.
Maybe sleep was a priority after all.
When he glances back to his phone, holding his hand over his eyes to make out the screen, three more texts show up.
Seriously, JJ, where are you?
I just want to know.
Are you safe?
JJ didn’t really know.
The fact that he knew Kiara had good reason to ask should speak for itself. But it’s not like there weren’t days that went by relatively easily, where he wasn’t so wasted that he could actually remember some of it, where he wasn’t clinging to a bottle or smoking until even his chest was tight and he was breathless for minutes at a time. Where he had some care left in him.
There were bad days but there were also not so horrible days. Usually ones he couldn’t quite recall off the top of his head but still.
Kiara asking made him pause, made him feel guilty. He hated lying to her, not only because she could mostly tell but also because she didn’t deserve it.
Today was a bad day, though, one where caring was a little harder to do.
I’m fine, Kie.
Then, trying his best not to go into John B’s chat like he’s done multiple times a day for months, just in case, he sends one more text to Kiara.
Sorry for not answering.
He clicks the screen off before sending the next text he impulsively had in mind, the one where he tells her where he is and she comes to him and they talk for the rest of the day and he’s forced to feel good for maybe a while before it comes crashing back down twice as hard, where he remembered that life took people from him and Kiara was not someone he wanted taken away from him, was someone he could not move on from losing.
So he blocks out people for the rest of the day, busying himself with whatever efficiently distracts him enough until he can't physically take it anymore.
Without his board in his arm like it usually was when he took the familiar trail, he walked over the overgrown path, using his phone's flashlight to make out the general direction he was headed. The moonlight offered hardly any guidance at first, unable to break through the thick trees that surrounded their special place.
It wasn’t exactly a beaten path, otherwise people, like New Balance and umbrella hat-wearing adults, he remembers from all those years ago, would know about it and John B had purposely dragged fallen branches and foliage over the vague walkway to avoid that specific outcome.
JJ ignores the fact that he hadn’t actually walked the path in quite some time, never did it alone until now either, finally reaching the point where the rough grass met the soft sand. The moon hovers high above the black waves, casting white specs across the surface.
A good night for night surfing.
He wasn’t here to surf, though, for once. He supposes that’s okay, assumes John B would be okay with it if he just simply took it all in like the numerous times they had done before, only on the sand and not in the water.
So that’s what he does. Loses track of time and lets his mind wander painlessly at first, just staring out at the dark abyss with his lighter flipping between his fingers, feeling the water climb up and crawl down his ankles in a constant, predictable wake
It was a small victory, having a hint of structure to ease his mind, even for just a little while.
He lets the push and pull of the waves carry his thoughts, grateful for the responsibility to be lifted from him for now as he peers out at the dark sky, distantly wondering if John B was looking too, wherever he was.
--
The moments between receiving the picture to where he sat now was quite literally a blur.
He knows that they’re permanent slices of time that have not left his brain since, but actually recalling the details comes and goes as if he was in a dream.
Which wasn’t far off because that’s exactly what it felt like.
That or some shared hallucination between the three of them. He remembers Pope mentioning how they had to consider it being some weird cruel hoax, which shouldn’t have been as accurate as it sounded considering the fucking picture that JJ couldn’t stop staring at, his chest feeling like it was in knots the entire time.
Then somehow reading Did you pimp my short board? was far more convincing for JJ, scarily so from the wave of pure happiness -- actual happiness -- that washed over him, though some of it has worn off since.
Kiara was giggly now, which had to do more with the fact Sarah had her arm wrapped around her shoulder rather than the joint between her fingers because weed didn’t make her giggly, JJ knew, it made her relaxed.
Even Pope seemed to be at complete ease, sitting on Kiara’s other side -- because where else would he be nowadays -- laughing at something John B said, which made JJ all the more wary of that small unsubdued part in his head telling him it wasn’t real, because Pope was rarely ever at complete ease.
Kiara was giggly. Pope was at ease. Sarah was very much alive.
And JJ? He was currently shot gunning a beer right beside John B, who was also shockingly alive, trying and failing to beat JJ because he’s always comes up right behind him.
“Whoo!” JJ hollers after finishing the beer, tossing the can aside just as John B swallows the last of his, coughing a little.
“I hope you’re planning on picking that up.” Kiara raises her eyebrows though it’s an empty threat as her face breaks out in another smile. They were all smiling, like the young dumb kids they were, like they had lost time and needed to make up for it by just fucking smiling and laughing.
“Was thinkin’ about it.” JJ reaches over for her joint and takes a long drag before handing it back and turning to John B.
“Damn, son, still a little slow but you’ll get there some day.” JJ grins, innocently ruffling John B’s hair before the boy swats his hand away.
“Oh, he’s got jokes,” John B says through his coughs, finally clearing his throat and chucking his own can towards the hammock, narrowly missing a playful shove from Kiara at the gesture.
JJ doesn’t miss the way his eyes flicker over towards the tree once again, like he couldn’t help himself but solidify the image of the carving in his brain, branding it just like how JJ had burned his name into the bark.
The dread crawls back, sneaking up on him like some kind of burden he couldn’t shake to save his life. He quickly busies himself by walking over to where he had thrown his can, grabbing both of them from the ground as Pope and Sarah start teasing Kiara for her crystal collection.
Then he too catches a stubborn glimpse of the tree. It no longer belonged, yet somehow the part of him that was simply worn out from having people torn from his life told him a whole other story about the necessity to keep it around. The more he tried to deny it and just enjoy the turn his life has taken recently, to understand that John B’s presence wasn’t an hallucination or a trick or bound to reverse itself at any given instance, to be more present, as Kiara has told him, the more relentless the thoughts become.
Hands abruptly grip his shoulders, making him flinch before they start massaging and he hears John B by his side.
“Yo, you wanna go visit memory lane real quick? I bet the waves are perfect right now.”
JJ glances over at him, smirking. “Why does that sound like some sort of innuendo?”
John B gives him a look. “Only to you maybe.”
“I’m not looking for it, it’s just how my brain works, bro.”
“I know, JJ. It’s not your fault,” John B reassures jokingly as they both start walking towards the porch to grab their surfboards.
“Try a curse,” JJ admits with false hurt, “having to question everything everyone tells you. It’s exhausting.”
“Sounds like it, you poor thing.”
JJ shakes his head, smiling, trying to catch up with the feeling that nothing’s changed between the two of them.
Once they’re walking through the old property that was more shrouded in the tall prickly grass than ever before, sunset lighting up the sky, JJ can feel John B’s eyes on him.
“So, Kiara and Pope.”
JJ laughs because he didn’t really know what else to do. “Kiara and Pope.”
“What’s that all about?” John B asks, sounding more curious than anything else, not being subtle whatsoever because subtlety has never been his strong suit. JJ usually appreciated it, but now?
Now, not so much.
He just shrugs. “Not really any of my business, so pass.”
“Uhh, no passes allowed. We’re catching up, bro, we can’t get skips.”
Catching up? JJ never had to catch up with John B before because he was always already caught up. Just the way JJ liked it.
JJ finds himself at a loss for words. The only time he ever allowed himself to think about Kiara and Pope and whatever they had going was when he was forced to, really. When they were all in a room and it was obvious he was becoming the odd one out. The afterthought. The one that gets left behind. Other than that, he had his plate full with his restitution, a dead best friend and a dad who’s boat he essentially gave up to the ocean. It was pretty simple, when he thought about it.
When he thought about it, which was an act he got in the habit of numbing and smothering pretty well.
He gives a forced chuckle.
“Well, you don’t see me in the middle, do you? My knowledge extends just about as far as yours, believe it or not. I’m fresh outta the steamy gossip, sorry.”
“Difference is,” John B pauses for a second, giving the ground a serious look of concentration, as if picking apart every word of JJ’s answer. “I’ve been gone for months and you’ve been… I mean you’ve been around ‘em, right?”
JJ doesn’t mean to snap, it just sorta happens. Wouldn’t be the first time as of lately, though.
“Yeah, you were gone for months. Not like I’m ever gonna forget that one, believe me.”
John B slows in his steps, looking at JJ with a grave expression. “JJ-- “
“No, you know what happens when people are gone for months for me, JB? They don’t come back! They’re gone and I’m supposed to just move on and pretend it never happened.” He gives another strained chuckle. “You know what Kiara did the night you and Sarah left?”
John B doesn’t answer, both of them stopped in the middle of the trail to the beach. He suddenly looks paler than before.
“She begged for me not to go home, saying she couldn’t lose another best friend in one night-- “
“JJ, I’m-- “
“So yeah, I’ve been around them, only because the idea of losing them and you was almost enough, John B, it almost fucking did it for me-- “
He’s not mad at John B, not really. It’s at something bigger than either of them. Something JJ couldn’t really put proper blame on for his problems because it had no agency when it came to guilt and he wanted someone to feel guilty, wanted someone to pay for what they’ve all gone through. He wanted validation that it wasn’t all just some game, some elaborate setup to see how far JJ could go because right now, he was teetering on the edge.
One wrong move, one more person gone and he’s done.
He also knows John B can feel guilt, oftentimes more than he should and now was not the exception. Judging from his expression, he was drowning in it.
John B drops his board, speaking with a seriousness that JJ doesn’t really know what to do with.
“JJ, shit started going south a long time ago and I know it was all my fault. Okay? I’ve been a dick to you guys and I pulled you into this and I wasn’t thinking, I just-- I don’t fucking know how to apologize because I know it won’t ever be enough.” John B stops and roughly runs his hands through his hair. “I shouldn’t have fucking asked for The Phantom, I should’ve-- fuck, I’m so sorry, JJ-- “
“The Phantoms-- “ JJ shakes his head, not ready to open that particular door, “The Phantom was collateral, bro-- “
“Asking for the keys wasn’t!”
“John B-- “
“I fucking knew-- “
“John B, stop, alright?” JJ shakes his head again, feeling really fucking tired all of a sudden, forcing out a laugh. They weren’t supposed to be fighting, they were finally together again. It wasn’t John B’s fault JJ just happened to reach some sort of breaking point with the whole being abandoned thing. “You don’t think I’ve already gone through every move since day one, trying to find where it all went wrong?”
“JJ,” John B says earnestly, “I’m not making excuses, okay? I’m saying I know I fucked up, like, colossally, and I know it didn’t end the night Sarah and I went down.”
All of the fight in him dies, just like that. Neither of them had control over what happened, JJ knew, but it didn’t make it any easier. That dread still sneaks up on him, even now, though a little less prominent than before. He always thought John B coming back would solve everything in an instant but that wasn’t the case, as much as it felt like it at first.
JJ finally drops his own board and steps forward, pulling John B close, thinking maybe just one more hug would stop his hesitation, his doubts, his persistent denial that washed over him whenever things felt too good.
Because for JJ, if something felt too good to be true, it usually didn’t play out as some coincidence. He didn’t get to ignore the fact that things needed to be watched closely, otherwise they might get pulled out from under his feet.
John B’s arms encircle him just as hastily, holding on as if he could read JJ’s thoughts. JJ takes it in, feeling something squeeze his throat once he pulls away.
He lightly shoves John B’s chest, sniffing before pointing an accusing finger at him.
“You die again, and I’m gonna kill you. I swear, man.”
John B’s face goes from distraught to relieved, splitting into a smile as he lets out an unsteady laugh and starts to pick up his board.
JJ follows, finally continuing to the water. “It’s supposed to be Pogues for life, dude. It doesn’t extend past the grave, at least not so fucking soon, you got it?”
“I got it, I promise.”
“I’m fucking holding you to that. Even on your next dumbass gold chase.”
“Deal,” John B says proudly, maneuvering himself over a high laying branch. “In fact, I’m gonna stick around until I’m wearing New Balances. Walking this exact trail with my board over my old man back.”
“You can’t, it’d be breaking our rule! No New Balances allowed on this dirt!”
“Too bad, I made the rule, I can break it. Walking beside you with your old man walker, wearing your big ass umbrella hat.”
“Don’t be gross, Jesus,” JJ acts extremely offended, though unable to wipe the grin from his face.
“I’m being dead serious.”
“Oh, we’ll fuckin’ see about that.”
“Kie’ll buy us matching hats to protect us from the sun since our skin will have turned to actual leather, I can actually see it.”
JJ laughs at the image, as depressing as it was. “She would too.”
They both end up sitting with their legs in the water instead, the second time JJ’s neglected to surf once making the trip but John B clearly wasn’t ready for throwing himself back into such strong waves yet, being somewhat vague about spending all night fighting them to stay afloat after being capsized. JJ understood instantly but didn’t mind, as sitting was enough this time around, their special place having no less effect even years later, like how an old friend would greet them in the familiar way that JJ missed.
Once the stars come out, he’s silently grateful to have his personal astronomer back, and even more so to just know he hadn’t lost him for good.