Work Text:
But when I saw you, I felt something I never felt
i
The first time the Pogues get drunk, it's in the Chateau, the summer before sophomore year, and one of those nights that feels like magic.
It was the middle of July, and the Pogues were spread across the patio. The sun inched towards the horizon, as if it was refusing to set on the day. Kiara, they found out, laughed ridiculously loud when she was tipsy and John B made jokes that would only make a twelve year old laugh. They thought they were all invincible, 16 was the oldest they had ever been and it felt like being on top of the world.
“I think,” Kie said, through endless giggles, “we should crash the next Kook party.” Her giggles intensified and she laughed so hard she sloshed part of her warm beer over her feet.
John B laughed at her, taking off his shirt to mop up the spill and dry her legs, even though a stack of towels sat a few feet away. Pope looked over at JJ and smirked, a little thing just for him. JJ rolled his eyes and lifted his beer in salute.
John B hiccupped and JJ, who could hold his alcohol surprisingly well for being freshly sixteen because of circumstance, was starting to wonder if it was a good idea to have gotten the Pogues drunk. Well, he hadn’t gotten them drunk, just supplied the beer since they had asked. “We should,” John B said all too enthusiastically, giving puppy dog eyes to Kie.
Kie was already laughing, still laughing. “Ruin their little lives like they ruined mine.”
“Fuck them,” John B agreed. JJ echoed it, his mind not really present.
Their conversation lulled and JJ was perfectly content to stare out at the intercostal and the bobbing waves with a wood beam harsh against his back with his best friends all around him. Their unprompted laughter and smiles sustaining him. He watched the sun set unmoving, just being present, or whatever Kie would call it. It was what he liked about being tipsy, not quite drunk but past sober, the feeling of floating just past his surroundings, not there with them.
Something poking his leg forced him to focus. JJ looked around, at the familiar lines and slopes of the Chateau in the dark. Kie and John B were passed out on the deck, towels thrown over their torsos like blankets. Pope’s toes were pressed against his calf while he insistently stared at JJ.
“You’re so shitfaced,” JJ said.
Pope frowned, the movement slow like he had to really think about moving his muscles. “I don’t think so.”
JJ laughed. He forced himself up, his legs stiff from sitting for what felt like forever on and his back aching from the harsh corner of the wooden beam. He held his hand out to Pope, still reclined against the big cooler filled with fish from earlier in the day. “Yeah, you are. Wanna leave the love birds out here and steal the big bed?”
Pope slipped his hand into JJ’s thoughtlessly, and JJ hauled him up, steadying him when Pope swayed on his feet. They stepped over Kie and John B, slipped through the screen door, and into the room that had once been Big John’s room but was now just the Big Room. Pope tripped over the curled edge of the rug and face planted onto the bed.
JJ laughed and toed off his shoes. Somehow Pope managed to do the same before falling asleep right where he was. JJ sighed. He nudged Pope, and when he didn’t move, did it again. Pope groaned, reached out blindly, arm flailing around until he grabbed JJ and pulled him down. “Sleep, J.”
And because JJ has never broken a single rule in his entire life, he slept.
ii
It isn’t often that JJ finds himself alone with Pope. The Pogues are like magnets of the strongest kind: they’re never apart for long and when whatever is keeping them apart stops, they snap back together. Occasionally, though, in the lulls between adventure and long summer days, there were times when they weren’t all together. Sometimes, Kie and JJ would mess around with old motorcycles, or JJ and John B would fish until their necks were hopelessly burnt.
Tonight, JJ and Pope are alone on the beach.
Sometimes, JJ crawled through the small window in Pope’s bedroom and stares at the popcorn ceiling while Pope studies, or they surf, or run deliveries for Heyward. Today though, as the sun was setting, Pope showed up at the junkyard, the bottle of half empty tequila from the Chateau in hand, and a lopsided smile on his face.
He lifted the bottle in offering, backlit like...an angel or some shit JJ didn’t believe in. He wiped the oil off his hands and tossed the rag down. They ended up on the beach, sun long past set, and slightly lost.
Pope’s weaving as he walks from a little too much tequila, bumping shoulders with JJ every few steps, only to veer away again, the air sharp where Pope’s skin was a second ago. “Are you sure you know where we’re going?”
JJ laughs, nicking the bottle from Pope’s hand and taking a swig. No matter how much he drinks, it still burns. He likes it that way, that he hasn’t become so numb to it that it goes down like water. “I mean, worst case we just wander around the island until we get back to where we started.”
Pope makes a startled noise in the back of his throat. “That is not a reasonable solution.”
“You left me in charge of directions when you decided you wanted to get drunk, at dark, on the beach.”
“I wasn’t planning on it. Or going to the beach,” Pope points out, bouncing off of JJ and stumbling slightly.
“You look like you’re ‘bout to go down face first man.”
Pope giggles. JJ’s breath catches in his throat; he’s heard plenty of girls giggle as he hits on them, but never a guy, never Pope. In fact, he didn’t even think someone like Pope would be capable of something so high pitched. But he is, apparently.
“Right,” JJ says, stopping where he is.
It takes Pope a few steps to realize he’s alone, and when he does he weaves his way back to JJ. JJ sits down, burying his toes in the sand. His eyes are adjusted enough to the light that he can see the rise and fall of the waves and Pope’s silhouette. Pope drops down next to him, their shoulders pressed together once he settles in.
“I love the ocean.”
“Me too.” JJ bites back a laugh at Pope’s mystified tone, the gleam in his eyes. For some reason, JJ can’t look away. The Pogues are like magnets drawn to each other, but something about Pope has always been so inevitable to JJ.
“So… wavey.”
JJ snorts at that. “So wasted.”
“JJ.” Pope never slurs his words when drunk. JJ isn’t sure how, it just is. He does however, start saying everything as if it's magic. Drunk Pope (who is wildly different from Sober Pope), says JJ’s name like… well, like it means something. Like JJ isn’t disposable or burdensome, like he’s worth it.
“Yeah?”
“We should go in.”
“That’s a horrible idea-”
“I’m not paying you to be the smart friend.”
“You’re not paying me at all,” JJ points out.
Pope isn’t listening though, he’s already on his feet, heading towards the gently lapping water.
JJ jumps up, fumbling for his phone in his pockets and dropping it onto the sand. He darts towards Pope, any buzz he was feeling from the alcohol gone. “Hey man!”
Pope whirls around. In slow motion, JJ sees the momentum becoming too much for Drunk Pope to regulate and his body topples forward. JJ is acutely aware that John B or Kie wouldn’t be very happy if Pope drowned on his watch. Hell, he wouldn’t be happy about Pope drowning in general. He forces himself to move faster, and pushes himself downwards, shells and seawater stinging his knees at the contact. He reaches out, catching Pope by the shoulders. “Shitting fucking hell bro,” he says.
Pope doesn’t look like he’s going to pass out or go down from alcohol poisoning, but JJ can’t be too sure. He’s never seen Pope act like this. Pope laughs. Just laughs. JJ is half sure that this is Pope’s mental breakdown, and he’s laughing.
“God,” Pope mutters, despite the fact JJ knows Pope doesn’t believe in God.
“Pope,” JJ says, because it’s ironic and JJ can’t help himself.
Pope laughs again. From this angle, the bright light of the moon shines directly on Pope’s face, making all his features simultaneously crystal clear and blurred around the edges. JJ never noticed so many little details about Pope’s face until this moment.
And then, Pope kisses him.
Pope kisses surprisingly well for someone JJ has always firmly associated with nerdish celibacy. His lips are soft, warm, and insistent against JJ’s. His hands are calloused but warm on his skin, one loosely resting on his neck, the other a ghost of touch on his cheek.
JJ has a reputation for kissing anything with a pulse, and while those ‘things’ have historically all been girls, he’s not going to skip out on a make out because it's a guy. It’s not soft or remotely comfortable. Their hands are moving fast now, skimming hard muscle and reaching for exposed skin; it’s frantic and a little desperate. JJ’s knees burn and he knows tomorrow there will be cuts on his knees. The water is freezing at their calves, the mid-October cold snap hitting hard, and the hem of JJ’s shorts are soaked.
But none of it matters.
Pope is kissing him like it's the air he breathes, the water he needs to live. Pope is kissing him like he’s desperate for it, like he may never get another chance. And JJ, just as desperately, does not want him to stop. He’s never thought about kissing guys before. Well, maybe he has in an antagonistic what would happen if I leaned over and kissed JB or Pope right now type of way. Now that it’s happening though, JJ wonders why he hasn’t been doing this the whole time.
He manages to separate himself from Pope long enough to drag them both to their feet and they stumble to the dry sand holding hands. They collapse back down, lips finding each other again. Pope ends up in JJ’s lap, their shirts end up off. JJ is acutely aware that if they don’t stop now, he’s going to get the awkwardest of awkward boners.
But they don’t stop. The moment is damning but something deep inside JJ is begging him to cling onto this moment as long as he can, to dig his fingers in and never let go.
This is the type of thing you don’t forget. The type of thing JJ will think about every time he looks Pope in the eyes for months. But he doesn’t stop, because it’s Pope, and he never messes around when it comes to Pope.
iii
Ever since the first Kook party they’ve crashed, it has become something of a habit. Kiara and Sarah Cameron hear of them through the grapevine, whatever that means, and bring them back to the Chateau. They always smile like foxes as they paint the picture of each party—who will be there, where it is, what’s the cover, who’s bringing the booze.
Tonight there’s one, thrown by Kelce on the stretch of private beach behind the mansions that sit on the beach. Sarah and Kiara have rallied everyone together before they descend on the party to get ready. Rather the girls get ready and the guys pregame on the porch with the back door open so that the sounds of pop music and giggles fill the balmy air.
It’s touron season, so the party will be wild, stretching on into the early morning, into hours that would lead to the police being called if it happened in the Cut. Something about the tourists set the Kooks aflame, they thrive off of average people coming to the island and gawking at their money and their lives. It was some twisted form of voyeurism, the way JJ saw it.
But that never stopped them from showing up at the parties, blending into the crowds, banking on the free alcohol.
Sarah stepped through the door first, tossing her hair over her shoulder nonchalantly as she went. John B gawked at her slightly as she did and Pope gave JJ that can you believe this look. JJ shook his head slightly back at Pope who treated him to a smile.
JJ’s stomach clenched unexpectedly at that. JJ blinked in surprise at the feeling. He had thought about the drunken make out session with Pope almost every night as he laid in bed, sure, but he had never been so vividly reminded of it with the sun up. He hadn’t felt that wave of arousal just because Pope looked at him since. He had a tight grip on what was real and what was not. Just because Drunk Pope made out with JJ, doesn’t mean it was real.
Kiara finally joined them on the porch and John B gave her the same dopey look he had just given Sarah. “Ready guys?”
“As we’ll ever be,” Pope said, using the arms of his chair to push himself up. He clapped JJ on the shoulder as he walked past him into the house. The girls followed him, and for a second, it was just JJ and John B.
“What are we gonna do, man?” John B asked, not quite direct at JJ.
But still, JJ said, “I don’t know.” He remembered the taste of tequila and the burn of shells dragging under his knees as freezing water hit his calves. It had been months, and it still lingered for him. Goddamn.
“Come on!” Sarah’s voice rang out.
John B and JJ shared a look and then they were moving, following the boisterous laughing and grappling sounds inside the house.
JJ always gravitated to the bonfires at these parties. The beer pong was fun the first few times, and usually the touron girls kept him occupied for a while, but he was drawn to the raging flames like a moth. There was something captivating, calming about their wildness and their unpredictability. He could stare at them forever he felt like.
He found himself at the fire earlier than usual that night. There was nothing appealing about the girls in their sundresses with sunglasses perched on the top of their heads and sunburnt cheeks. So he sat on a log and pulled at a joint and stared into the fire. There were a few couples scattered around the fire but no one was paying attention to him, so he let his thoughts wander. And they wandered to Pope. (And cold water and wandering in the dark and—)
And then Pope was sitting next to him in a chair he must have dragged over, because it certainly wasn’t there a second ago. “Sarah Cameron and Kiara are posturing again.”
JJ blew out a cloud of smoke. “I don’t know what that means.”
Pope hummed. In the light of the fire he looked golden. JJ didn’t know how that was possible. He didn’t think about it too much, instead he took another hit and let the warmth of the fire hit his face. He closed his eyes and saw gold, everything fuzzy around the edges and sunlit from behind.
“Can I try?”
JJ’s head followed the voice and it led him straight to Pope’s eyes. “Not worried about your lungs, bio boy?”
For a second, Pope’s eyebrows knitted together as he mentally weighed the pros and cons. “Is there another way?”
“Well I don’t have any edibles on me.”
Pope ran his hands over his thighs, the sand on his hands making a faint scratching sound as they skated over his board shorts. “There’s no other way?”
JJ’s heart stopped, then kickstarted again so hard JJ thought it would leap straight out of his chest. He had shot-gunned with girls before, tourons and locals who wanted a high and something pretty to look at. But never with a guy. But he had never kissed a guy before Pope either, and that still occupied all of his mental capacity, so maybe it was worth a try. “How bad do you want to try it?”
“I’m curious,” was all Pope said.
And JJ was just as curious as him, so he took a hit, let it fill his lungs, then let all the smoke out. “C’mere.” He waved Pope over and Pope sat, mostly holding himself up, on the armrest of JJ’s chair. JJ had to prop himself up on one leg to make them eye level again. “Are you sure?”
“Don’t let me do anything stupid?”
“Never,” JJ said, even though he was sure as shit he was already facilitating bad ideas. But screw him for wanting. Doesn’t he ever get to want something?
“Okay then. What am I waiting for?”
JJ hesitated. What was he waiting for? There were people around them, he was almost out of weed, he wanted to kiss Pope again. All reasons he should not do this.
“Open your mouth,” JJ said, and Pope did. Something sick and beautiful wrenched in JJ’s stomach at that. “Close your eyes.” And Pope’s eyes fell closed. Goddamn.
JJ touched Pope’s collarbone first, an introductory touch. Pope shivered gently under his touch. JJ ran his hand over his shoulder until he was cradling his neck in his hand. His thumb rested gently over Pope’s pulse point and it fluttered lightly under his touch.
What the fuck was he doing?
He took a hit, closed his eyes, then dropped his face millimeters away from Pope’s face. JJ could feel his breath, could remember the feeling of his lips and teeth and tongue. He exhaled the smoke into Pope’s mouth and he instinctively inhaled it.
“Good,” JJ said, ignoring how shaky he felt. There was something a little religious about this. “Good. Deep breath then let it go.”
Pope did exactly as he said and for a moment JJ’s hands shook so uncontrollably he was afraid he’d drop the joint and burn himself. Pope opened his eyes and looked at JJ and he was—
Fucked.
iv
It was hot. Too hot. The type of heat that begged you to stay inside, hide in the scraps of shade in the corners. It was the type of hot that started fights and ended them. Even growing up in the Outer Banks, there were some days that the heat was indomitable.
JJ had skipped school that day, summer break too close for him to care about meaningless assignments or small town drama, not when there were waves crashing and cars to fix. JJ was much more concerned with the real world, the one where fixing cars made money and the high he got from the ocean water on his face carried him through the rest of the day. Not school, where words and numbers blurred on pages and the gray walls of the classroom made JJ want to crawl out of his skin.
By the time the sun reached its zenith and the three o’clock heat was at its highest, JJ was lounging in the hammock John B had tied between two sturdy coconut trees, his hat tipped over his face to protect it from the sun. He was almost asleep, the soft sound of the lapping water hitting the dock and the morning of surfing and work mixing into the perfect state of drowsiness.
And then the hammock swung wildly once, twice, and dumped JJ gracelessly onto the floor. He landed with a solid thump and a strangled gasp as the air was knocked out of his chest and the sun beamed into his eyes. For a second, wild panic shot through his veins as he scrambled into a crouch and shaded his eyes from the sun.
In front of him stood Pope, glowing as the sun bounced off of him from all angles. He was straight from school, in a polo and thin khaki shorts with his backpack slung over his shoulders instead of a t-shirt and boar shorts. Everytime JJ saw him like this, sun shining in the sun, face set, he understood why Pope’s parents named him the way they did. There was nothing about Pope that didn’t make JJ feel inclined to worship him. Hell, he was practically on his knees for him right now. Which really didn’t work for JJ.
He reached out fast and tugged on Pope’s ankle. Pope hadn’t been expecting it and stumbled, which JJ used as an opening to surge forward and knock him to the ground. He was careful as they hit the ground together, making sure neither of them hit their heads.
“What the hell, JJ?” Pope squirmed as they hit the ground, immediately scrambling to gain purchase.
“You knocked me out of the hammock first.” JJ used his knees to pin Pope’s legs closed and rolled them until JJ was sitting on top of Pope, looking down at him.
“Yeah,” Pope said, “where you shouldn’t have been since you should have been in school.” Pope reached up and grabbed JJ’s shoulders, pulling hard and offsetting JJ’s balance. Pope used his momentary advantage to reverse their positions.
As JJ started up at Pope, he realized he may have started a fight he wasn’t capable of winning. That the angry thread of heat warping the very essence of the island had gotten to him too. It made him feel a little nauseous. Not as much as the ways his thoughts were wondering as Pope stared down at him “School, fool. Would’ve been a waste of a day.”
“No it wouldn’t have been,” Pope started before JJ got his wits about him and pulled him down, so they were side by side in the dirt, grappling with each other's limbs to keep the other down. Pope used his hand to hold JJ’s face against the ground. “If you had been at school, our homeroom teacher wouldn’t have pulled me aside to ask where you are. To tell me that if you don’t start showing up she’s going to call your dad.”
JJ felt acutely nauseous at that again. He pinched the soft skin on the inside of Pope’s arm and freed his head from the ground. He rolled slightly, pushing his shoulder against Pope’s solar plexus so they were both straining their necks to stare at each other. JJ was breathing hard now, off kilter from the thoughts of what would happen if the school called his dad, of thoughts of him and Pope grappling in a different context, from the sun beating down relentlessly. “So fucking what? Let them. What’s it to you?”
It was fishing, even to his own ears but JJ didn’t let himself cringe about it. It was too late to take back. Pope yanked on JJ’s elbow pulling him backward and upsetting his precarious balance and sending him sliding backwards until his shoulders hit the ground and his chin was pressed to his chest. “So fucking what? You know what your dad will do to you if the school calls, I know what your dad will do. Let’s not pretend. Just show up and save your ass.”
JJ didn’t even fight his awkward position. He kicked his feet aimlessly and they sent shocks of sandy dirt over Pope’s arms and legs. Pope looked unfazed. “Why do you care, Pope? You should be realizing this is finally your fucking sign to leave the scum of this island alone and save yourself while you still can. You’re better than all of us, Pope, you’re better than me.”
Pope pulled JJ up until they were disentangled. Even the vague hostility of their touch this time didn’t detract from the fact JJ misses his touch as soon as they’re apart. “Because I care about you,” Pope said, voice raised, punctuating each word by clapping his hands on JJ’s shoulders. “Because I love you.”
JJ’s world tilted sideways and everything fell and rearranged to fit perfectly in place for a second, before everything jarringly flipped back into place. They had said the words before but ever had it felt like this. “Well fuck you. I love you too,” JJ spat out, pushing Pope’s chest. He swapped back but didn’t fall. His hands tightened their grip on JJ’s shoulders. “But you don’t see me telling you what to do with your life because you don’t know what’s best for me. But let me tell you this, if you want what’s good for you, you’ll run far far away from here. From me.”
Pope’s fingers dug into his shoulders almost painfully for a second before he abruptly let go and pushed to his feet. He left with a lingering, almost sad look at JJ, but once his back was facing JJ, he didn’t look back.
JJ punched the sandy dirt and got nothing but gray stained knuckles.
v
Maybe, if after their fight Pope had gone through the motions of ignoring JJ, JJ would've been able to stew and let go of the lingering anger. Instead, by the next morning Pope was acting as if it had never happened, buddy-buddy again. And it pissed JJ off to no end.
Even a week or two later (JJ lost count, the days blended together when he forced himself to go to school) when John B, Pope, and JJ were on the Chateau’s dock, drunk and on their backs, stargazing, JJ couldn’t forget this sting of it.
They had been talking all night, the steady stream that moved between serious and superficial in the way that only old friends can manage, when Pope asked, “Where’s Sarah, JB?”
John B made a strange noise. JJ thought it sounded vaguely like a sad kitten but he could recognize how fond it was. “She dragged Kie to the mainland to get dresses for some brunch their moms are the day after midsummers.”
“Weird,” JJ contributed, rolling his empty can between his palms. He was so tired and tipsy he couldn’t even bring himself to reach for a new can. “Don’t tell me you’re going.”
John B was weirdly silent. Pope laughed then booed at John B until they were all laughing. JJ tossed his can at John B, aiming it so it bounced perfectly off his chest. “Pussy whipped,” JJ declared.
John B laughed, shaking his head as if he couldn’t even deny it. Not that he could, everyone knew how in love he was with Sarah. JJ suspected that Sarah didn’t even know the extent to which John B was in love with her. JJ hoped that he would tell her soon, that he would learn from JJ’s unspoken lessons and not hold onto the words so long all you could do was choke on them. That’s what it felt like at least. Ever since JJ and Pope had wrestled in the backyard of the Chateau and spit their words of devotion at each other, JJ hadn’t been able to push them off the tip of his tongue; instead, they suffocated him every time he tried to swallow them back.
“I hate that saying,” Pope said.
“Why?” John B asked. He attempted to juggle the pile of empty cans next to him and dropped one on his head instead.
“Not only is it gross and actually derogatory to women, it's just so…ugh.” He waved his hands around as if he could catch the right words. “Love isn’t worth it. It’s not worth blindly believing what someone else says, doing what they say, following them anywhere. I mean, is love even real?”
JJ closed his eyes, and, for the first time, wished he was anywhere but next to Pope.
+i
JJ’s head poked above the water. His eyes burned as he drew in his first breath after a second too long. He shook his head and water drops sprayed in every direction, he kicked his foot back to draw his surfboard back to him. He pressed himself up onto the board, relishing in the way all his muscles burned from way too many repetitions of the same movement. He had been at this all day, the waves were perfect. The weather was bordering on a tropical storm for the first time this season and the waves were the tallest they had been in months; JJ would miss it for nothing.
When he finally stumbled on to the shore, the sun was down and rain was coming down in sheets. His body was jello, his throat screamed for water. Next to where JJ left his stuff when he got there this morning, sat Pope. JJ couldn’t guess how long he had been there, reclined on his elbows with his eyes closed. JJ knows he must have been determined to see JJ though, determined to poke through the distance JJ had been putting between them.
If JJ had been unsure to feel after their fight, the night on the dock cemented that Pope wanted nothing to do with him. And JJ wanted nothing to do with another unreciprocated love in his life. It was bad enough his father didn’t love him, it would destroy him if the only person who had ever shown him unconditional kindness in his life didn’t love him too.
JJ nudges Pope’s calf with his foot and Pope’s eyes pop open. Pope gets an eyeful of rain and blinks frantically for a few seconds. “How were the waves?”
“Perfect.” JJ drops onto the sand, his soaked through backpack serving as a barrier between them.
“Can we talk?”
“That’s what we’re doing right now,” JJ pointed out. He couldn’t help the snarkiness, even through his sheer exhaustion and frustration with Pope.
Pope sighed, but it sounded almost like a laugh to JJ, almost like a prayer. Damn religion, damn Pope. (JJ was already damned by maybe he didn’t mind so much anymore.) “Why have you been ignoring me?”
“Love isn’t worth it, remember? Don’t let it get a hold of you or whatever you were going on about. Gotta get rid of it before I’m pussy whipped. Or dick whipped, for technicalities.” JJ’s nose wrinkled as he spat out the words. He sounded like a pissed off little kid even to himself, but the words have been burning him alive for a while. They felt good to say, even if the outcome will hurt worse than sitting on the words.
Pope was quiet for a second, then, “Oh.”
JJ snorted. He flicked the sand next to him to watch the little clumps sail through the air. “Yeah ‘oh’.”
“I didn’t know you felt that way.” Pope’s voice was too neutral, his words too perfectly spaced apart. It only made JJ more wound up; he hated fake bullshit, he’d much rather be back in the Chateau, pushed in the dirt with passionate words.
“Bull fucking shit.”
For the first time, Pope looked away from the horizon and over the makeshift barrier. “I’m serious.”
“Right okay, so we were just having totally different conversations when you showed up at the Chateau and knocked me out of the hammock.”
Pope’s lips pursed for a second, his thinking face, and JJ can tell he was replaying the memory looking for inconsistencies. “I see.”
JJ didn’t think he was the most well adjusted person on the planet, but right now Pope was being so emotionally constipated JJ thought he was going to die. He’s certainly been closer to death before, but none left him with this all encompassing ache radiating out from his chest. “Let me clear it up for you then, for the second time,” JJ said, turning to face Pope. Pope’s eyes latched onto his. For a second, they were silent with only the sound of the wind and the rain and the waves surrounding them. “I love you, I am in love with you. Feel free to do whatever you want with this information.”
JJ went to turn back to the ocean but Pope’s hand caught his chin, gently urging him to stay. JJ stayed.
“I’m sorry I didn’t realize we were confessing our undying love when we were wrestling in the dirt,” Pope said, his eyes big and earnest. JJ answered him with a soft chuckle. “I love you too, I am in love with you too.”
“You shouldn’t be,” JJ tried to protest. But it was useless, Pope never listened when JJ told him how he would be better off leaving the Pogues behind and chasing a new life.
“Good thing I don’t care about ‘shoulds’,” Pope said, and kissed JJ for the second time.
JJ let him, ignoring the fact that Pope absolutely did care about the ‘shoulds’ because it was hard to care about much else when Pope’s lips were on his. When his words were rattling around JJ’s head. It wasn’t like JJ remembered, the first time they made out on the midnight beach. Around the salt on JJ’s lips and the insistent rain, JJ couldn’t taste Pope; they weren’t touching each other anywhere besides their mouths; it was softer, like a confession (like a prayer) than last time.
JJ didn’t particularly believe in the concept of perfection, but if he did, this would be it.