Work Text:
It's the day after the inaugural landing on Poguelandia, and JJ is awake and watching the sunrise paint the sky pink and yellow.
From the camp that they had so lovingly built the night before with the air filled with laughter and the uncontrollable euphoria of being alive and together and relatively safe, John B stared at JJ's back as his friend watched the bubblegum pink sky. Pope- ever cautious, ever wary- was concerned that his unconscious run-in with the blunt end of a machete and his subsequent stint face-down in the water for god knew how long would be detrimental for his health. So they watched him closely last night as he stumbled around and winced at the bright light of the campfire and complained about his head pain until Pope was sure enough hours had passed where he could safely fall asleep concussion-free.
Having fallen asleep the earliest, JJ woke first and had secluded himself from the group as soon as he had the chance.
John B had stayed up late with Kiara long after the others had fallen asleep, basking in the light of the fire, sitting side by side. She told him what he had missed while he was gone- the many nights the three of them had spent together taking solace in each other's melancholy, how Pope had thrown himself into studying to cope, how Kiara had rebelled by fully embracing the Pouge life despite her parent's protests, how Luke Maybank got booked into a cell and how that had been the best day of JJ's life.
How many times he had called her in the middle of the night, high and alone. How many times he had come to school drunk from the night before. How often she had confiscated his flask from him only for him to find some other way to sneak liquor into his diet. How he was losing jobs like a change in the weather. How he had changed since John B's suspected death, and how completely off the rails he had truly gotten in his absence.
Now, John B watches him as he watches the sunrise. He doesn't look any different, just looks like the exact same JJ that John B grew up with. But then again, JJ has always been rather good at pretending to be perfectly fine when the exact opposite is the truth. He was just so relieved that he didn't see any bruises and cuts on him- a welcomed side-effect of Luke being locked away in a cell where he belonged, no doubt- that he hadn't thought about any deeper, more severe repercussions from his extended leave of absence.
Groaning, John B heaves himself up from his comfortable sun-touched patch of sand and crosses the beach to join his friend on the edge of the shore. It slopes down slightly, and JJ leans back on his arms as he dips his toes in the surf. "Morning," John B greets as he moves to join him.
"Sup," JJ has a lump on his head from where he was whacked with the machete, and John B can't stop looking at it, peeking out from under his unruly, wind-swept hair. "Man, I wish I had my board. They'd be no better way to spend the morning than floating out there a little bit and then just... lying in the sunlight."
"I can think of one other thing I would much rather be doing," John B sits down beside JJ and wraps his arms around his knees. "Hanging out with my best friend."
"Awh, John B," JJ sounds wistful and he gestures over his shoulder. "Sarah's still asleep over there with the others."
"Then it's a good thing that I'm not talking about Sarah," John B says and JJ's teasing smile falls short. "How're you holding up?'
JJ shrugs. He doesn't look nearly bothered enough for the situation they've found themselves in. John B can't blame him- he is feeling much the same. They are the two Pogues who don't have anyone back home who will miss them. "I've never been better. We've got an island all to ourselves, I'm stranded with my best friends, none of us bit the bullet trying to outrun the Crazy Cameron Clan, no offence to Sarah, and you're alive, man. This is the best I've felt in ages."
It's such an honest statement that John B can't help the laugh that escapes him. Count on JJ to find a silver lining to such a shitty situation. "I'm sorry about that, by the way."
"Don't be," JJ shrugs it off like water off a duck's back. "You had to do what you had to do to get back home. You're here now- that's all that matters."
"Still, I wish I could have come back sooner. Gotten word to you earlier, maybe. I don't know," John B gets comfortable in the sand. His next words taste like bile in his throat but he knows they need to be said- they've been haunting him since the night before. "I uh, I talked to Kie last night. She filled me in on some of what I had missed. The good, the bad, the ugly. According to her, you kind of lost the plot a little bit."
Scowling, JJ looks away, to the white foam of the waves meeting the sandy shore of their little island before pulling back out to sea. "Yeah, well, everyone has their own ways of coping. Not everyone can be like Miss-Well-Adjusted and Mr-Going-Places-Some-Day."
It's John B's turn to look away, and he turns his attention to the bare strip of skin on his ankle and the new tattoo that resided there now, obviously hand-punched with a homemade poke-and-stick. A well-known tag, one carved into trees all over Outer Banks by a familiar knife and handwriting he knows like his own. He thinks fleetingly of the tree back at the Chateau, the lovingly carved heart and the branded letters that probably killed the tree, the only marker that they could afford for a body never recovered. "Uh, you know, she also told me about what happened with your dad," he manages. He watches JJ tense. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not really," One of JJ's shoulders rise and fall in a mockery of a shrug. "What's there to talk about? He's gone. End of story. Full stop. The end."
But, as he so often is in relation to words that come from JJ's mouth, John B is unconvinced. "Come on, man," he nudges him and the gentle impact makes JJ rock a little bit. "Talk to me."
"I don't know what you want me to say," JJ stares out over the horizon.
"Are you alright with him going?" John B asks. "I mean, I know better than anyone how badly he treated you. Are you glad he's gone?"
"I don't know," JJ's voice is surprisingly quiet, softer than John B has heard it in an incredibly long time. "Kie didn't want me to help him. She said that you were waiting and that in the time it took me to get him on a boat, we wouldn't get to you in time. And I mean, she was right, of course. She always is. But I remember that I told her that if I just... got him out of here, got him on a boat and sent him on his way, then I would never have to do it ever again.'
"I'm sure she was thrilled with that plan," John B can just imagine it- the look on her face when she saw Luke Maybank climbing into the backseat of her parents truck.
JJ laughs. "You don't know the half of it," he shook his head. "I'm glad he's gone. Hopefully forever. I hope I never have to see his ugly mug again, for as long as I live."
When JJ doesn't willingly continue, John B sighs. They grew up together, are brothers in spirit if not in blood. John B knows when there's something he's not saying. "But...?"
Instead of answering, JJ pulls his lighter from his pocket. John B watches him flick open the lid and ignite it, running his nail over his name carved into the metal by his own hand, before he flicks it shut again and kills the flame. He bites at his lip, and he looks reluctant to speak, but John B waits long enough for him to gather any and every hint of courage he can find. "But he's my dad. Like, no matter how much I hate him or what he did to me over the years, he's still my dad. He always will be. I'm not... I'm not supposed to hate him. But I do. But no matter what's happened, there's still a tiny little part of me, deep deep down, that thinks that maybe he wasn't so bad, and one day he'll come back to Outer Banks and it'll all be different. Maybe some distance will be good, you know? And when he comes back he'll be better and we'll try and be a normal family."
Out of all the things John B suspected he might say, it certainly wasn't that. "JJ, man, come on," he tries. It's hard. Usually, he knows exactly what to say to make JJ feel better during one of his rare moments of vulnerability, but he has never quite known how to step when it comes to his father, never knowing how he might react or what might set him off. Usually, he understands. But there's nothing about this conversation and the situations leading up to it that John B could ever hope to understand. This circumstance is no different. "Luke is a terrible person, alright? A terrible person and an even worse father. You know that better than I do. You don't owe that asshole anything. You never deserved any of that, no matter what he said."
"But he's my dad," JJ says again, sounding desperate and confused and a little perturbed. "I'm not supposed to hate him."
"You're his son," John B points out simply and JJ worries at his bottom lip. "He was supposed to raise you and take care of you and love you unconditionally. He didn't do any of that. He treated you like garbage all your life and used you as a punching bag. You never asked to be his son- if he couldn't handle having a kid, he should have thought twice about it. It's not your fault that you're not exactly like him. You never asked to be born."
JJ is silent for a few moments too long, drawing nonsensical, random patterns in the sand with a finger, looking pensive, brows pulled together and lips pressed thin. "That's not what you said, though. Do you remember? You said that I was going to end up like my dad. That was... before we thought you were dead, and all."
Wincing, John B looks away. Of course, he had said something so terrible in the heat of the moment. He'd forgotten all about it, but he shouldn't be so surprised that JJ remembers it like it was yesterday. "Yeah, uh, I'm really sorry about that. I didn't mean it."
"No, I know you didn't, but maybe you were right," JJ shrugs and shifts uncomfortably and John B snaps his head around to stare at him, horrified somewhere down deep in the pit of his soul. "Sometimes it scares me, you know? Maybe I am a lot like him. Drink too much, smoke too much, just like him. I mean, I'm not gonna stop, but it's something I think about it, you know? And then, there are times when I just get so mad, so god damned mad, and I just feel like I want to tear the world apart with my bare hands and usually end up hitting something until my knuckles bleed instead. I think about what he does when he gets mad and it sca-"
"Hey, hey, stop that," John B sits up fast and rests a hand on JJ's knee. JJ's shoulders are tense, his whole body strung like a wire, his teeth grit so hard John B can practically hear his teeth cracking in protest. "Don't do that to yourself. You can't think like that. It's not true and it never will be. I said some terrible things, but I didn't mean any of them. You're nothing like him. Nothing. You're good and kind and selfless. And sure, maybe you're a little impulsive and you might have some unresolved anger issues and you party too hard sometimes, but you're a good person. You're nothing like your dirtbag of a dad, no matter what he made you believe."
Slowly, JJ sits up from his reclining position on the sand and wraps his arms around himself. It's odd- John B has never seen JJ look small before. He's always the biggest person in the room- big personality, big gestures, big parties. But now, with his eyes a little wet and his face looking miserable and him looking more anxious and afraid than he has ever seen him, John B is a little horrified that he doesn't quite recognise him. "I uh..." he glances away and trails off. "I..."
John B tightens his hold on JJ's knee. "What's up, man? Come on. It's me. You can tell me anything."
Nodding, JJ licks his lips, blinks hard, and lets out a hard, shuddering breath. "I almost killed him. Luke. Dad. When I took the keys for the Phantom. He was high and he was just lying there and I had my gun pointed at his head with my finger on the trigger and there was nothing he could have done to stop me and I... I almost..."
And just like that, John B's blood goes cold. "But you didn't."
"No. I didn't," JJ shakes his head. "I don't know why I didn't. There was nothing stopping me. Nobody would ever know. We're not the type that people tend to miss. But I couldn't do it."
"Well, I'm glad you didn't go through with it," John B lets out a slow breath through his nose. He doesn't even know what that means, that JJ was at a hairs-breath from killing his own dad, that JJ would have ended up in prison for murder and John B wouldn't have his best friend anymore. "I don't know what I would do without you."
"You seem to manage pretty well," JJ doesn't sound bothered but John B feels the statement like a barb to the chest. "Besides, there were more important things to deal with, like getting you on a boat and getting you the hell out of dodge."
"Why didn't you ever tell me?" John B can't help but feel a little hurt, despite knowing it isn't warranted.
"It's not exactly the kind of thing to bring up during a conversation. 'Hey dude, I nearly blew my dads head off, no big deal though'," JJ says dryly. "Besides, it's not like you were around for me to talk to."
Though he knows that JJ doesn't mean it as a jab, John B can't help but feel horrible for it. "Look, man, I-"
"Don't, dude," JJ suddenly looks exhausted, like he hasn't slept in days, and he runs a hand through his dishevelled hair, tugging at the roots before dropping it to his side. "There's nothing to say. You don't... you don't need to make me feel better. It was a long time ago. He's gone now, hopefully forever, and I never have to worry about him again."
"But still, man," John B pushes. "Getting to the point where you wanted to kill your own dad...." he trails off. JJ sharply looks away. "That's not something that you can just brush off."
"I don't know why you sound so shocked," JJ says. He isn't looking at him, despite John B silently begging for him to meet his gaze. "We always knew that one of us would kill the other eventually."
It's not like John B can argue. He knows first-hand exactly how true that statement is. He has spent countless days and nights at JJ's side when he arrived at the Chateau bruised to high-hell and bleeding and in obvious pain despite his valiant attempts to brush it off, and he has been by his side as he iced his bruises and bandaged his cuts and watched him smoke enough joints to kill a man just to dull the pain. If anyone knows how likely the death of one of the Maybank men at the hands of the other was, it was John B.
"Do you ever think about your mum?" JJ interrupts his train of thought and the question is so startling and sudden that it takes John B a full thirty seconds to comprehend it. "Do you miss her?"
"Sometimes," John B admits wearily. "I wonder what she's doing, hope she's happy. But she made her choice. Her priorities were elsewhere. My dad stayed and she didn't. Like I said, some people just aren't cut out to be parents."
And some people are just lucky to have parents at all, he thinks but doesn't say as he watches JJ mash and twists his toes uncomfortably into the sand as if he can burrow away from the conversation he started.
"I used to think about her a lot. Not so much now, but did," JJ admits this quietly, his voice barely above of a whisper, like the whisp of the wind across the waves. His hands are grasping harshly at his thighs, digging into the flesh that's covered in bruises and cuts and grazes. "Luke always told me that she left because of me. I don't know how true that is, but if I ever got to see her again, that would be the first thing I would ask. If she said yes, it wouldn't surprise me."
John B suddenly feels like he wants to scream. "JJ-"
"Hey," Pope is suddenly behind them, sleep-rumpled and covered in sand, a side-effect they'll have to endure for the period they're stuck on Pougelandia. "You two love-birds alright over here?"
And just like that, the moment of vulnerability is gone in an instant, and JJ is fixing that blindingly cheeky grin on Pope as if they never had this discussion and he hadn't admitted to the things he did. "Yeah man, we were just trying to figure out if we could make a hammock out of leaves and vines like the one back at the Chateau. What do you think? Does your big brain agree?"
"My big brain thinks that maybe we should work out how to get off this island before we start making ourselves comfortable," Pope shoves JJ in the back of the head and JJ pretends to be thrown onto his back. "What are you doing up so early? You almost drowned yesterday. You still might have a concussion."
"The sunrise was just too good to refuse," JJ says. He waggles his eyebrows and nudges Pope in the side, and from where he is kneeling behind them, Pope almost falls back. He rests a hand on John B's shoulder for stability and adjusts his feet as JJ pokes at him, and John B almost forgot how nice Pope is to be around. "Are you having fun over there, surrounded by all those women just dying for your attention?"
"Alright," Pope sighs, exasperated, and stands. "That's enough out of you. Even getting a concussion isn't enough to keep that mouth of yours shut."
"You love it," JJ turns back to the waves. "You won't know what you're missing until it's gone."
Though Pope is shaking his head, he is smiling. He turns to John B. "Is there anything you need from me or...?"
"Nah, man. Thanks," John B says. "I'll be back in a minute."
Pope leaves him and rejoins the group gathered around the camp. Kiara and Sarah are laughing at something, and when Pope sits back down, Cleo begins to talk to him about what it truly means to be a Pouge, and Pope is more than happy to comply. Sarah's laughter is music to his ears, but while John B would love to join them and wrap her in his arms, he can't bring himself to move.
Thankfully, JJ makes the decision for him. "We should go back before they start thinking somethings up," he says as he squints at the sun. "What I wouldn't give for a hit right now."
"Well, maybe a detox will be good for all of us," John B says. He looks at JJ, who is looking somewhere over his shoulder, eyes distant, but it's good enough for him. "You're my best friend, man. Do you know that? I love you. I never want you to go through that all alone again. I want to be there for you, alright? No matter what, I want you to tell me so I can be there. You get me?"
"Yeah, I get you," JJ sniffs. John B rests a hand on his shoulder. "I really missed you, man. I'm glad you're back."
"Me too," John B stands and heaves JJ to his feet as well. He's light and it takes no effort for him to lift him. He shuffles his feet, rolls his shoulders. The lump on his head is even larger in the shadows of the morning and John B looks away in favour of watching the rest of the Pogues. Kiara is watching them and JJ is resolutely not meeting her eyes, but even from this distance, John B knows she is frowning. "Let's go back, yeah? We've been here enough. Besides, the others are going to start expecting our resident salt-water fisherman to catch us some breakfast."
"Probably. Insatiable bastards," JJ says affectionately. He rubs at his arms and manages to fleetingly meet John B's eyes. "Thanks, man. I... appreciate it."
Something swells in John B's chest as he throws his arms around JJ's shoulders and pulls him close, wrapping him into an awkward hug as they walk towards the group. "Don't get sappy on me now," he teases. "You've got a reputation to uphold."
"Yeah, I do, so let me go," JJ tries to yank away, but he's laughing too hard, and with John B above him he can't really get the momentum he needs to pull away.
"I don't think so," John B guides them towards the camp, where the others are laughing at them as they realize what's happening. "I just got you back, dude. If you think that I'm going to let you go ever again, then that dude must have scrambled your brain up a little bit when he hit you."
And John B really, truly means it. If he could, he would wrap JJ up in the safety of his arms and never let him go. He would wrap the world in wool dull the corners with bubble wrap. But he knows that JJ will hate that, hate the very idea of it, and that he would find ways to break through his defences just to spite him.
So John B will have to settle for holding JJ close with the comforting knowledge that nothing else can hurt them anymore as the fragmented pieces of their collapsing world slowly but surely falls back into place.
But despite that, John B has never felt quite so happy, and as JJ throws his head back at a pointed joke from Kiara, he hopes that his friends also feel the same.