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He’d never really thought about it before. He really hadn’t.
It wasn’t until he saw the fear in JJ’s eyes and the crack in his voice as he whispered ‘don’t listen’ outside of Scooter's house that he even considered the possibility.
The possibility that JJ knew what Lana Grubbs was going through.
The bruises could be explained away. The bruises and cuts and scars— they all had stories. Kook fights and surf accidents and tripping on shit. John B had heard every single excuse, because he asked JJ each time a new one appeared.
It seemed casual. The way these lies would roll off his tongue, right into John B’s lap. There was never any reason to doubt him. Catch him in a lie. Because why would JJ lie?
They just got back from Lana and Scooter Grubbs place, and JJ’s recounting the whole event. And all John B can think about is the ‘don’t listen’ and how familiar it all felt for him.
But they’re all looking at him now, waiting for him to say something, but he’s missed the conversation completely. He’s looking at them all, wide eyed because he doesn’t know what to say. It’s alright, though, because JJ is going into detail again, letting them know about the smugglers his dad is involved with.
John B didn’t let himself think about it anymore.
Then, the restitution happened. Midsommer happened.
They’re standing at the shoreline. The boat rocks with the waves, and the sound of the party travels with the wind. JJ is in his waiter get-up, and John B is waiting patiently for him to finish getting ready.
He’s a little shocked that JJ doesn’t know how to tie a tie. Yeah, his dad didn’t get fancied up too often, but neither did Big John, and John B knew the task like the back of his hand.
JJ’s fidgeting with the thing, and finally John B takes it from him. He wraps it gently around JJ’s neck, ties it carefully.
“Thanks,” JJ mumbles. “I almost had it.”
John B laughs, but he doesn’t say anything. He pulls it through the last loop, then lays a hand on JJ’s cheek playfully. JJ flinches slightly, jerking back.
JJ doesn’t flinch often. From the moment they met, JJ and John B have been all over each other. Wrestling in the courtyard, arms around shoulders, hands around waists. If someone had asked him, John B would say that was JJ’s love language. Physical touch. But as they got older, he noticed JJ grow skittish. He’d touch, but only John B. Eventually, he opened up to Pope, and then to Kiara, but it took time.
It wasn’t something he thought about often, but feeling JJ falter at his touch makes him wonder if he should have.
John B draws his eyebrows in, looks at JJ. There’s a bruise under his right eye, a big welt with a cut at the center. His lip is busted, and he looks like shit. JJ told him it was from a fight at the docks, and John B just nodded. Didn’t think anything of it.
But now he is, and he doesn’t remember JJ ever going to the docks. After getting out of County, he’d gone back home.
“You alright?”
He runs a finger gently over the bruise, and JJ can tell that he’s thinking about it. You can practically see the wheels turning in his head.
“Dude, I’m fine,” JJ says, pulling away from John B.
And John B takes his word for it, like he always does, and their plan continues.
When Pope says something about JJ’s dad later that night, it gets pushed under the rug. There’s too much going on. They’re all around the fire, and JJ is hugging him. And then Sarah is there, and so is Topper, and now John B is laying on his back in the mud. His head throbs and he can’t even feel his arm.
The next morning, he wakes in a new house with a cast plastered to his wrist.
Needless to say, there’s not much time to think about JJ’s explained bruises. Really, there’s not.
But his arm heals, and the concession does, too. And even though there’s a billion things going on, John B can’t help but let his mind drift. It’s going to the cut on JJ’s cheek, and the bruises he knows are on his ribs. Not just this time, but the years leading up to it.
And he’s thinking about ‘don’t listen’ and drug smugglers and Luke and his jumpy best friend, and suddenly, he’s puking in his bathroom wondering how he missed it.
There’s no time to talk about it. And even if there was, JJ wasn’t one for talking. Not when there were other things to be done.
Because they have the gold, it’s literally in their hands. They found it and fought for it, and it’s not 400 million, but it’s theirs .
And then it’s not.
Some guy in a skull mask is taking it from them, and he’s hurting John B’s friends, but JJ doesn’t falter. He never does. He steps in front of the loaded gun, right in front of Sarah and Kiara and Pope and John B. He’s stepping in front of the gun like he’s not scared of dying, like the psycho could pull the trigger at any moment, and JJ would be fine with it if it meant his friends would be safe.
There’s not time to think, but if there was, John B would wonder what made him this way. Fearless and bold, like he had nothing else to loose. It was a saying they repeated over and over, like a mantra JJ lived by. This is the first time John B realized it was more than just words.
But thankfully, the guy doesn’t shoot. They’ve got the upper hand, and fuck. JJ knows the guy. He’s talking about the drugs he’s sold Luke, and suddenly, there’s this anger in his eyes John B has never seen before. His gaze is dark, and then they’re at the guys house. JJ is ransacking the place, and John B doesn’t understand.
He’s trying to talk some sense into his friend, but JJ doesn’t listen, and it’s the first time they’ve ever been on different pages. And John B is so mad . He doesn’t want to be, but he doesn’t know when JJ turned so reckless.
Impulsive– yes. Mischievous, heedless, erratic– it all adds up to JJ. But reckless? John B hopes he knows better. But it seems like he doesn’t, because he’s taking off with 25k, and he’s heading home. Back to his dad.
The next thing John B knows, he’s getting a text from Pope. It’s short and sweet, like most texts from Pope are.
‘At Chateau. Need you.’
John B is in the Cameron house. He’s supposed to go on a fishing trip with Ward, and they’ve been so kind. He’ll risk sneaking into Sarah’s room, but sneaking out of the house? That’s a different story. So he tells Pope he’s in for the night. Nothing can get him out of the warm bed, the fluffy pillows, Sarah wrapped around his waist.
‘It’s JJ.’
He’s at the Chateau within twenty minutes.
Sweat beads at his forehead, and his lungs hurt. He’s run home before, but not this fast. Never this fast. There hasn’t been a reason to.
He’s running up the driveway, and lights litter the trees. A hot tub sits next to the old oak, and the jets are spurting water onto the soggy grass. A brief thought crosses his mind, thinks maybe there’s a celebration in store.
He pushes open the door, and he’s completely wrong.
JJ is sitting on the kitchen counter, holding an ice pack to his head. He’s shirtless, and John B wishes he wasn’t. His entire chest and stomach– his entire body is covered in fist sized bruises. They blossom around his ribs, a sickly purple at the center.
John B must’ve been holding his breath, because he feels like he’s going to pass out. He swears he sees stars, but he doesn’t have a chance to succumb to unconsciousness. Kie has a hand on his back, and she’s telling him to pull it together. It’s quiet, quiet enough that JJ can’t hear it.
Pope is standing by his side, keeping him distracted, cracking jokes, talking softly. He checks JJ’s ribs.
John B is stunned. The stars are gone from his vision, and Kie’s hand is still pressed into his back, but he doesn’t know how to move. He wonders if he’ll be stuck here forever, in a constant time loop of having to see JJ so broken. But Kie is grounding, and she’s telling him that JJ needs him. So John B nods, and his legs take him to the counter JJ sits on.
The closer he gets, he realizes that Pope had been crying. Not anymore, but he’s eyes are all red, and his cheeks are puffy. He gives John B a small smile, then makes his way to the other side of the kitchen. He starts rummaging through the cabinet, the one that used to hold bandages.
“They’re in the bathroom, now,” John B says absently, all his attention on the boy in front of him.
JJ is calm. If John B had to choose anything to describe JJ, he would choose the ocean. It was a no brainer. Loud and dramatic when needed, but scarily calm when it mattered the most.
John B looks at JJ, runs his fingers through his hair.
“One hell of a fight?”
He’s trying to keep the mood light, but he doesn’t know the right words to say. Even the ones he chose feel wrong coming out of his mouth. Because deep down, he knows it wasn’t a silly fight. If it was, JJ wouldn’t be this hurt.
“You should see the other guy,” JJ tries to joke, but it falls flat.
John B feels his stomach lurch, because he doesn't want to see this other guy. Not if the other guy is Luke.
His stomach is turning and he thinks of the first time he put the pieces together. He doesn’t know what to say. He rests a hand on JJ’s chin, tilts it up towards the light. The bruises are worse when taken away from the darkness. He doesn’t know what to do.
Thankfully, Pope is back, and Kie is behind him. They have a handful of Thomas the Train bandaids and some damp washcloths. There’s a nasty cut on JJ’s eyebrow, and another on his opposite cheek.
John B must look awful. He must look green in the face, because JJ finally meets his eyes, and he’s trying to smile.
“I’m fine, B,” he says, pleading in his voice. “Seriously. I just– I went too far. With some Kooks–”
John B doesn’t have to see the look Pope gives JJ, or the way the tears hit Kie’s cheeks. She turns away, wiping her eyes as she walks back to the bathroom.
He doesn’t need to see them, because he’s already called it.
“You don’t have to say that,” he shakes his head. “I know.”
JJ’s eyes are wide, and he looks like he could cry. He’s shaking his head, and his split lip quivers.
“John B.”
“I know it’s–”
“Once you say those words, B,” JJ shakes his head. “Once you say them, you can’t take it back.”
So John B chooses not to say them. For JJ’s sake, because he can’t imagine how shitty it must feel. To hear the words said out loud, to live through what he has.
John B still feels sick, because it’s finally confirmed. The small whisper of a thought he had weeks ago. The thing he never thought could be true. And now everything hurts– everything hurts, because he can’t imagine how he went so long without knowing. Without noticing.
But as much as he hurts, he knows JJ hurts worse.
He’s nodding now, and he goes to pull JJ into a hug. JJ stops him, though. His body is shaking, and his eyes are squeezed shut, and he’s whispering ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again.
And John B knows he shouldn’t, but he pulls JJ close anyways. Thankfully, JJ melts into his arms, and he’s crying so hard, John B wonders if he’ll ever stop. If it were John B, he doesn’t think he would.
He's telling JJ it's not his fault, that they'll fix it together. Popes arms are around them now, and they’re pressed together so tightly it feels like they can never fall apart. John B swears he can hear Kie crying in the bathroom, and he wishes he could stretch far enough to reach her, too. But right now, it’s about JJ. He’ll never let him go. Never again.
He’s got that god forsaken fishing trip to go on. His alarm is going off, because it’s three-thirty now, and he needs to sneak back to the Cameron house before things go even further south.
But he doesn’t want to leave JJ.
He doesn’t remember when JJ stopped crying. There weren’t many words spoken, not as they patch him up as best as they could.
John B’s looking at him now. The two of them are in his room. It’s still dark outside, but there’s a full moon out. John B can see the Thomas the Train bandaids fastened across JJ’s face. He can see the deep, angry bruises, and the quick rise and fall of JJ’s chest.
He was surprised by how still JJ was. He expected him to put up a fight as they fussed over the ribs and the bruises and cuts. But JJ didn’t. He sat quietly, calmly, his only actions subconcious and uncontrollable.
He'd flinch every time Pope came near him with a bandaid, or a new ice pack. He'd shook his head once or twice when Kie came back, asking to check his pupils. He'd complied with all of it though, as soon he convinced his brain he was safe. That there was no threat.
He might've been skiddish with Pope and Kie, but he kept one hand on John B the entire time. It was like their bodies had to be touching, or his breathing would pick up and his eyes would get watery. So John B stayed by his side, kept a hand rested on JJ’s back or his arm. Let JJ squeeze his own, or press his knee into John B’s hip.
Even now, JJ’s shoulder is attached to John B’s.
But his alarm is going off, and his body hurts, and his mind is fucked. The only thing he can think about is JJ. If he can breathe alright. If he’ll heal. If he’ll ever go back home.
He knows the answer is yes, to all of his questions.
JJ is stirring by his side now. His eyes are open, and he’s looking at John B.
“You can go,” he says, quiet. Hoarse.
“I don’t wanna leave you.”
JJ tries to stretch, but it backfires. He bites back a grimace.
“This isn’t the first time, B,” he whispers. “And it’s far from the worst. I’ll be alright.”
JJ is convincing. He always has been. John B nods, and he gets JJ a couple bags of ice before he leaves. He watches him, standing in the door frame for too long, because JJ is starting to sit up.
“It’s getting creepy now,” he says, playful. “It was endearing at first. Now it’s full on creepy.”
John B smiles. He tries to, at least.
Because sitting up, the blanket has fallen away from JJ’s chest, and he’s like one big wound. Bruise on top of bruise, stitched together with kiddie bandaids.
John B feels sick.
“I’m sorry I didn’t figure it out sooner.”
“If I wanted you to know, I would’ve told you,” JJ says, serious. Like he wants John B to know it’s not on him. And deep down, he does know. Maybe. As if JJ wants to nail it in deeper, he adds a quick, “This isn’t your fault, alright? It wasn’t some puzzle I wanted you to piece together. You didn’t fail a test, or miss the winning shot. This wasn’t on you. Okay?”
John B nods, and he blinks back tears. It doesn’t fully work, because a couple roll down his cheeks.
“I’ll be back later.”
“I know. I’ll still be here.”
If the world wouldn’t fall apart at his absence, John B would’ve stayed. But Ward Cameron was waiting for him, and he ran practically their lives at this point. So he packed up his bag, and he said goodbye to his friends, and he set off to the Cameron house.
His chest feels a little heavier after that night. It always has, and he knows it always will. He hates himself for all the nights he wasn’t there for the guy he called his best friend. JJ never holds it against him. Not once. Because that's JJ. Always keeping his head high, even when the world is falling apart.
But John B knows. He knows for a fact– he’ll be there. Anytime JJ needs him.