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The night is dark, this far away from any life, as dark as JJ’s only seen it the times he slept out at sea, on the deck of a boat under the stars. The stars are the same, too, so many and so bright that you’d think you’re looking at a different sky than back home on OBX.
Home.
It’s the first time that JJ thinks back to Kildare and realises there’s really, truly nothing left there for him. His dad is gone, good riddance. His friends – his family – are all here, on this spit of land in the middle of the ocean that they’ve found themselves on by pure chance. Earlier today, the adrenaline still pumping in their veins, the sun high in the sky, all seemed light and full of promise. Poguelandia, their personal paradise, away from the gold and the cross and psycho murderers on the loose. They built a fire, they grilled some fish, life was good.
Then nightfall came, and things got quiet. They gathered around the fire to fend off the cold seeping into their bones through their still-damp clothes. Slowly, one by one, the rest of the group had let the mad rush of the day catch up with them, sleep winning them over even on the rough surface of the beach.
JJ can’t sleep, though.
And it’s not the light pounding on the left side of his head, either, where a fresh scab is now running along the edge of his hairline. It’s more like the tightness in his chest that he can’t name nor put a finger on, but that lingers and gets louder as the sky gets darker.
He’s sitting alone right by the shoreline, close enough to camp that he can still hear the crackling of the fire but far enough away that he’s alone with his thoughts. JJ is not big on, like, self-reflection and shit, but something in his brain is screaming fire, and all of a sudden staying with the others was just. Too much.
He sits on the damp sand, the chill of the night stark against his bare limbs, the sea breeze blowing through his hair. JJ looks out at the waves, their repetitive pattern – in and out, crashing on the shore, as it’s always been and always will be. He closes his eyes and matches his breathing to the rhythm of the sea, his mind empty, just the sound of the waves.
He’s not exactly sure how long he’s been sitting there when John B joins him. JJ recognises the pattern of his steps in the sand, feels his presence in his peripheral without even having to open his eyes.
He used to think, when they were little, that he and John B could read each other’s minds. John B would come up with a plan, and JJ always knew immediately what he was thinking, with barely any need to put it into words. Or they’d finish each other’s sentences, without really thinking about it or meaning to. It came natural, they were just that close.
Sometimes, he still thinks that’s the case.
“Hey,” John B says, once he’s right beside him.
JJ nods his head and gives him a tired smile, acknowledging his presence. “‘Sup.”
“You good, man?”
He lifts his head slowly, squinting a little as he focuses on John B’s face in the darkness. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright.”
John B comes to sit down next to him, elbows on his knees. He tilts his head towards JJ, says, “Still dizzy?”
“Nah, I’m fine.”
He is feeling a bit like he’s been run over by a train. Or like a hammer hit him in the head – which is more accurate, really. But John B doesn’t need to know that.
“You sure?”
JJ’s smile feels tired on his own skin. “I’m sure.”
Despite himself, John B glances back over at the camp, their sleeping friends. JJ can see it in his eyes, the way John B's already stretched so thin from worrying about everyone else. He definitely doesn't need to worry about JJ, too.
He follows John B’s line of sight towards the fire, a certain blonde’s figure dark against the embers. He sneaks a look to John B, runs a hand through his hair without thinking.
“How’s Sarah?” he asks.
John B shrugs, but he very pointedly doesn’t look at him. “Sarah’s strong. She’ll be fine.”
JJ might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he can be observant. There's a dark purple ring of bruises around Sarah's neck, half-hidden under her string of necklaces, and it hadn't been there when he last saw her at Tannyhill, before the Coastal Venture. The sight of it has made his stomach turn, and then set his blood boiling in his veins with an all-consuming, primordial rage. Now, he sets his jaw in a tight line and doesn’t say anything, just nods his head slightly into the sand.
John B sighs, running a hand over his face. “I don’t think she really wants me around her, right now.”
That makes JJ whip his head back up. “What are you talking about, bro? She was all over you. You’re definitely back in her good graces.”
John B glances over his shoulder again, like he can’t stop himself from checking on her even when she’s sleeping ten yards away.
“These past few days… she’s been through a lot. And, like. I understand if she needs a little room to breathe.”
John B is staring straight at JJ as he says it, a sad, knowing look in his eyes. JJ feels something uncomfortable stir inside of him and suddenly has to jerk his eyes away. He chews on the inside of his cheek, plasters an unconvinced smile on his face.
“Well, don’t we all,” he deflects – and when John B doesn’t respond, JJ takes his neck in his hands and feigns choking on his next breath. John B doesn’t laugh. JJ drops the act, turns his head slightly towards him and eyes him sideways. “Too soon?”
John B is looking straight at him, unmoving, his eyes all misty. JJ looks away.
“Today… I thought I’d lost you there, for a minute.”
It’s quiet, so quiet. Raw and painful, like the rasp in his voice. JJ blinks a couple of times too quickly into the darkness of the ocean in front of them. Fidgets with his fingers, tapping random patterns on the side of his leg.
The thing is, he doesn’t know how to do this with John B. For so many years their friendship has been the least complicated part of his life, the one thing JJ knew he could always count on. And it still is, in so many ways. JB is still his brother, always will be. But now he wonders if the easy nature of their friendship can survive all the shit of the past few weeks – the constant near-death experiences, the fear, the mourning. At some point, it might just be too much. Things might just change forever, without them even noticing.
So JJ ducks his head towards his brother and says, “Well, you should have known that you simply can’t kill a Pogue. It’s just a fact of life.”
The laughter is a bit empty, while sincere. John B’s teary eyes glisten in the moonlight reflecting on the water. JJ thinks back to those terrible, neverending days when he was sure he’d never get to see John B again. He suddenly needs to sink his teeth deep into his bottom lip, the sharp feeling grounding him, tethering him to the present.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and it’s so low that John B might not hear him over the crashing sound of the waves, but JJ somehow knows he does.
John B shakes his head, his thumb coming up to wipe away the stray tear rolling over the rim of his eyes.
“Not your fault, JJ,” John B says. And yet, the weight on his heart has not lifted.
If anything, it’s gotten worse.
JJ’s not a big cryer, never has been. The whole ordeal is incredibly inconvenient and he steers clear of it very successfully most of the time. The same is not true of John B, whose watery eyes are not precisely a rare sight.
It still hits different, when you know it’s you he’s crying over.
“I don’t even remember anything, you know,” JJ says, eyes buried at his feet. “Just a hit in the head, and the next thing I know I was on the boat with y’all, Kiara all over me being all emotional and shit.”
He says the last part as a joke, but John B doesn’t laugh. JJ sneaks a look in his direction and finds that hard set in his brow that’s so often to be found on John B, these days, the worry and the weight of all that’s happened to them.
“When we got there, with the lifeboat,” John B says, his voice hoarse, “you guys were almost drowning. She was fighting tooth and nail to keep you both afloat. I don’t think–” He stops himself abruptly, takes a deep breath. “I’ve never even seen her like that.”
JJ is stunned into silence, which doesn’t happen to him very often. He stares at John B wide-eyed, trying to compute what he’s telling him. When JJ woke up in Kiara’s arms, he didn’t even question why he was there. He found her hand on his shoulder and all was good again. John B’s words now fill the blank between those moments, and JJ’s not sure he would have actually wanted to know.
For the first time it really hits home what actually went down. Not just the blow he took, or falling overboard, or coming this close to not making it. But also the other side of it. What it must have looked like for his friends.
His spiral into misery is interrupted by John B’s hand, suddenly on the back of his neck, warm and solid and keeping him grounded. JJ closes his eyes and leans into the touch, taking deep, slow breaths until his heartbeat goes back to normal.
John B doesn’t move his hand for a long while. When he does, it’s to slide it down and rub small circles in between JJ’s shoulder blades – the tension slowly leaving his body at the touch. JJ doesn’t say anything, but when he’s ready he turns to John B and gives him a wide, sincere smile.
“I’m very glad you’re okay,” John B says.
“Yeah.” JJ clears his throat, taps his fingers over his elbow. “Yeah, me too.”
They sit next to each other, after that, not quite touching but also not apart. JJ wraps his knees in his arms and rests his chin on top, closing his eyes and letting the gentle breeze run through his hair. The crashing sound of the waves fills his ears, and he doesn’t catch the soft footsteps approaching.
“Hey.”
It’s Kiara’s voice, coming from right behind them. Both him and John B turn their heads over their shoulders at the sound and find her standing not four feet away, a hand to her face tucking loose curls behind her ear.
“Hi,” he says, and smiles at her. A quiet, tight lipped smile, barely stretching the corner of his mouth. Something painful tugs at his chest at the sight of her, and he doesn’t really know what it is.
“Care if I join you? Couldn’t sleep.”
“Sure.”
Slowly, hesitantly, she comes to sit next to him on the sand, on the opposite side from John B.
All is quiet for a minute. John B is glancing between the two of them in turn – a fond look in his eyes, and yet also something that looks a whole lot like hesitation.
“So.” John B finally clears his throat. “Insomnia all around, uh? Here we were, thinking we’d found paradise, and yet fifty percent of the crew is still up and at 'em at zero dark thirty…”
Kiara hums noncommittally, nodding her head in agreement with John B. JJ doesn’t even make a sound, his chin resting on his folded arms, gaze lost on the water – hyperaware and alerted to Kie’s presence.
John B takes the hint, settling back down in silence after that semi-awkward attempt. Every so often JJ sneaks a look towards Kiara, who seems as lost and pensive as he feels – something dark and unknowable lingering in her eyes. John B must notice it too, because he exchanges a quick look with JJ, barely tilts his head towards Kie.
“Right,” he says, standing up and wiping his hands over his dirty jeans. “I guess this is me for the day. I’ll let you two talk.”
“Night, bub,” JJ says, because he can. John B smiles softly, looking down at him, and something warm and right settles in JJ’s chest. John B pats him affectionately over the shoulder, and then heads back to the camp – the dying fire and their sleeping friends who are more like family.
Kie looks even more uncomfortable than before, sitting so close and yet so far away, arms wrapped around her knees and her dark gaze lost over the waves, as black as the night sky.
“So,” he says – because silence sometimes is easy, but not tonight. “I’ve been told that I have to thank you. So, thank you.”
Kie rolls her eyes in that way she does, except there’s no trace of amusement left in her. “Don’t be an ass.”
“I’m serious, Kie.” And he is. He looks at her more intensely, trying to communicate without words exactly how he feels at the thought of her putting her life at risk to save his. “Thank you. For real.”
She averts her eyes, traces invisible shapes with her finger in the wet sand. They’ve never been good at this, the serious talk. It’s all jokes and bad innuendos, between them, but now they’ve stumbled upon something real.
“I thought you’d die on me for a minute there, J.” It’s whispered and defeated, and when he finally dares look at her he notices in horror there are tears on her face. Like, actual genuine tears.
“Kie.” There’s a lump in his throat and he doesn’t know what to do. What is up with all his friends suddenly crying on him, Jesus.
She sniffles, wiping at her eyes in jerky motions, and his heart shatters.
“Hey, hey, look at me. I’m right here. Okay?”
She’s shaking her head, her eyes glassy as she turns them to the moon, blinks a few times quickly. She doesn’t look at him.
“You don’t get it. I looked overboard and you were floating in the ocean. You looked like–” Her voice cracks, fresh tears rolling down her eyes. “You looked like you were dead. And I was trying, I was trying to keep your head above water but I didn’t know if you were even breathing and I thought… I thought, this is it.”
JJ is staring very intently at his fingers, fidgeting with the ring on his right thumb. Something tight and heavy settles in his chest and for the life of him he doesn’t know what he should be saying right now.
He blinks away the tingle in his eyes, dries them off with a brusque movement of his hand. Kie notices, her face falling into something apologetic.
“Fuck, I– I’m sorry. Shit.”
He turns to her, his eyes narrowed in confusion. “Why? What are you sorry for?”
“Like.” She dries her cheeks on the palms of her hands, doesn’t really look at him. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. It must all be traumatic as hell, and I just– I don’t know. You probably don’t wanna relive it all, laid out like this. I’m sorry.”
He should tell her not to worry, that it’s fine. That she’s good, that she can say whatever she wants. He should really tell her how grateful he is for what she did, but words die in his throat. He is so not fine. He keeps picturing the scene in his head, her struggling to stay afloat, him dragging her down underwater.
“You’re good, I– I don’t actually remember any of it,” he admits, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. It’s barely murmured and yet it catches her attention, he can feel her eyes on him even without looking.
Kie bites her lip between her teeth, shakes her head minutely. “I haven’t even asked you how you’re feeling,” she says, her voice raspy and broken. “I’m such an asshole.”
“Hey,” he says, and for once he looks her straight in the eyes. “You’re seriously not. Stop saying shit like that.”
She ducks her face to the side, drying fresh tears over her shoulder.
“Kie, you literally saved my life today. I don’t know why you’re sitting there apologising to me.”
Kie just shakes her head, blows out some air slowly from her parted lips.
“I guess… today was just a lot,” she says. “It’s just coming down on me all at once.”
That he can understand. Kiara kind of bottles things right up until it gets too much and it just comes out. It feels familiar in an almost painful way, like a mirror held right up to his face. She’s always been like that, as far as he can remember. He reaches out and touches her tentatively on her leg, keeps his hand there when she doesn’t flinch away. She drops her gaze briefly, staring at his fingers on the dark corduroy of her pants, then lifts her eyes towards him. He smiles.
“Hey. Everything ended up okay, yeah? We’re all here. We’re all good.”
She sniffles again, looks out at the blackness of the sea. She nods her head, sets her shoulders a little straighter.
“Yeah. You’re right.”
He starts moving his hand gently up and down her leg, absentmindedly. He ends up resting his fingers on her knee, gives it a tiny squeeze.
There’s something, deep in his chest, that hasn’t quite settled the entire time Kiara’s been sitting next to him. Something dark and confusing, that echoes with screams from a fight and the liquid sound of the ocean in his ears. JJ closes his eyes and breathes in the salty air from the sea. His hand is still on Kiara’s knee, and he’s not quite sure which one of them it’s supposed to be comforting.
But – slowly, painfully – the moment passes. As he sits with Kiara in the silence of the night, the knot around his heart slowly starts to unravel. Without even noticing at first, his breathing pattern starts tracking hers, slow and steady.
She’s folded over herself now, her arms wrapped tight around her legs. His hand is still on her, his thumb tracing mindless patterns on her leg. Eventually, he feels her shiver through the fabric of her pants, and it suddenly clicks that she’s holding herself to fend off the cold, rather than any sad feelings.
He drops his hand, and her eyes flick to him immediately as he gets up to his feet.
“Come on,” he says, “Let’s get you back to the fire.”
He extends a hand and she takes it, allowing him to help her up.
Before they can head back to the camp though she stops, tugs on his hand to hold him back.
“J.”
She pulls him into a hug before he even realises, arms wrapped tight around him. He returns it without thinking, a hand tangled up in her curls, his head ducking into her neck. He breathes in the scent of her, mixed with salt and bonfire, and they don’t say anything. Her fingers brush at the back of his neck, gentle, so gentle. For a moment, he feels the unwelcome tightness encroaching on his chest once again. Then Kie pulls back, takes his face in her hands, and kisses him on the forehead.
And maybe it’s that, her soft touch. Maybe it’s the fresh breeze cooling down their faces. But for a fleeting moment, he thinks they might be okay.