Chapter Text
He should’ve known better.
He should’ve known better when Groff first lied about being his father. He should’ve known better when he appeared with the map Kiara was guarding. When he locked JJ in the crypt for hours. When he boarded the damn kook boat.
But, God , he just wanted a dad so badly.
JJ was willing to overlook all of the iniquities. No one was perfect. He would excuse every bad thing and disappointment; isn’t that the whole point of loving someone? But he should have known better than to think that anyone would ever love him as a son. And yet, the shift in Groff’s tone still startled him because just this once he had let himself believe that Groff would be different.
JJ took a small step back. He didn’t know what the man would do, but he was starting to have an idea of what he was capable of. Things that even Luke’s beatings couldn’t compare to. This man was JJ’s actual father. How unlucky could a guy be? Two shitty dads, and it makes you start to wonder if you’re the problem.
He recognized something in Groff’s eyes. It was the same look JJ got before he did something he might regret. John B learned to read that look years ago and managed to prevent many situations from going sideways. Granted, JJ practically lived with that look in his eyes. Always one to get out of hairy situations, for once, JJ didn’t move. Whether he was in shock, or years of discipline from Luke’s abuse materialized, he held his ground when Groff finally closed the gap and grabbed JJ’s shirt in his fists. For once, he didn’t fight back.
“Dad?” The word sounded far away and hollow.
Groff shoved JJ towards the water. He felt like he was falling in slow motion. JJ hated how deeply unsurprised he was. After all, you don’t stand in a firing line and act surprised when you get shot. He bounced off the deck and felt a sharp stab in his side. Plunging into the water, for the first time, he didn’t know if he would resurface. Even diving with Kiara, he only grappled with his near-death experience when they were safe on shore. He never even considered that he may never gulp for air again.
His side throbbed as he reached for the surface. How poetic, being shanked by an anchor. JJ’s anchor was his friends. The pogues. P4L, right? They kept him grounded in the midst of all the noise and chaos. It was because of them that JJ tried to open up to someone new in the first place. I rely one time on a different anchor and he ends up killing me .
He really needed to stop falling off of boats. First the machete and now this? Not a pleasant habit to have. Contrary to popular belief, JJ did not think he was invincible. In fact, he faced his own mortality more often than he’d ever admit–especially to the pogues.
JJ snapped back to reality. Groff did not kill me because I’m not dead…yet. His face broke through the surface and he gasped for air. Shit that hurts. JJ would definitely be dead soon, though. Floating in the middle of the ocean and bleeding out? Not a good combination.
To be fair, he always wanted to die at sea, somewhere not too far from the Outer Banks though. Didn’t want to inconvenience the pogues with some destination funeral. He lived on the water; it always seemed fitting that he would return to the saltwater at the end. His body could decompose and feed the fishes. Circle of life, like Kie says, kinda.
Shit. JJ's head was spinning. He noticed the water around him turning darker and darker with his blood. There better not be any sharks this time of year because that would suck. There’s always a way out, he tried to convince himself. But, Groff’s boat was becoming a speck on the horizon, and it was late enough in the evening that the fishermen would be arriving home for dinner with their families soon. They would turn in for the night before their early shifts the next morning. Maybe they could recover his body.
I got myself into this situation. I deserve the consequences. JJ’s eyes slipped shut and his body relaxed into the gentle swells. They would rock him to sleep in the forever and beautiful unknown. Sure, the pogues would be sad, but they would get over it. Their lives would be way more stable without him in it anyways. Maybe they could even get Poguelandia back and return to living the dream.
His vision started to crowd with black when he heard the slight hum of a motor. Squinting into the sunset’s reflection, he saw a boat beginning to emerge. Does God typically arrive on a Mako 334 to welcome his children home?
–
“His location stopped updating an hour ago,” Kiara shouted over the thundering wind sound. “We need to hurry.” They were quickly coming up on the last location ping from JJ’s phone. It wasn’t lost on any of the pogues that there was not another boat in sight. “This is it! Cut the motor!” Kiara’s breathing sped up as the gravity of the situation sank in. Groff locked her unconscious in their freezer just to get the map. Who knew what he would do to his own son?
“There!” Cleo pointed at something bobbing in the water, barely above the surface. Pope rushed to the edge of the boat and hauled him onboard the second they got within reach.
“JJ!”
“What happened dude?”
“Are you okay?”
The pogues all shouted over each other.
JJ sank into the floor, exhaustion and pain sweeping over his body. His eyes remained closed, like he still wasn’t sure if the rescue was actually happening or if his body had finally given up the ghost. “I’m fine. Let’s just get out of here,” he heard himself whisper.
“Not good enough, JJ, what happened?” John B asked with a stern, but concerned tone.
JJ groaned. Stupid John B, always caring about me and shit. Reluctantly, JJ replied, “Groff shoved me overboard. Tried to kill me.” He wanted to play it off nonchalantly. Of course, this wasn’t the first time he had a father try to kill him. He was just so tired, though, and the pain from his side was pulsating through his entire torso now. JJ felt his head droop lower.
Pope knelt to his side, searching JJ for some clue as to what he wasn’t sharing. “JJ, hang with us bud.”
“I’m just tired,” JJ replied, his voice now barely audible. It was the truth. Floating and treading water for an hour was a workout in any scenario, even for JJ “lives on the water” Maybank.
Pope wasn’t convinced. JJ was a master at concealing pain, but even he couldn’t hide the obvious discomfort he was in. It made Pope wonder how bad it really was. “Did you hit your head?”
JJ shook his head no and immediately regretted it when a wave of nausea washed over him. “I don’t think so.” He paused. “Not since the enduro.” Everyone was reminded of the terrifying accident that had occurred just days earlier. With everything else going on, they had forgotten about the race. They had forgotten how JJ flipped through the air and awkwardly landed. Another testament to JJ’s horrible ability to hide injury.
Kiara, still quietly staring at her boyfriend in fear, noticed a deep red stain creeping out from behind where JJ’s hand rested on his stomach. In fact, she noticed his whole shirt had a pink-ish hue where it had been almost white before. Emphasis on the almost. White shirts and JJ did not mesh well together. Crouching down, she reached out to gingerly move his arm.
JJ recoiled backward, eyes wildly shooting open. “Don’t.” It wasn’t a command, more like a desperate plea. Kiara and John B exchanged a glance.
They had been floating idly for the past few minutes as they decided what the best next move was. John B pulled Cleo aside. “Get us to March Point. Fast.” He had been quiet up until now. When it came to JJ, he had learned years ago that it was often better to stand back and assess before stepping in. The boys were tight, but JJ had too many walls to count, and asking if he was okay would never result in an accurate answer. There was something about the chaos JJ brought that caused John B to become level headed.
The others stepped back, giving him space. The pogues were a family. They had no secrets and knew each other inside and out. Yet, there was always something between JJ and John B that couldn’t fully be explained. A level of trust and fragile vulnerability that bound them even tighter than the rest. Kiara and Pope understood this, though until that awful night with the hot tub, had never known why. They weren’t jealous of it; they knew both boys needed each other.
John B sat on the deck in front of JJ. “JJ, you gotta let us help, okay? It’s just us. We’re safe. But I need to see it.” He hated how normal it felt to see his friend like this.
JJ dodged eye contact, but gave an almost imperceptible nod. He slowly moved his arm away, the small movement causing a slight whimper to escape him. It infuriated JJ how pathetic he was being. Embarrassing.
Seeing the flash of agony in his friend’s eyes, John B pulled up the hem of JJ’s shirt as gently as he could. His stomach churned at what he saw. This was bad, even for JJ. A jagged, dirty, and nerve-rackingly deep cut was revealed. Now without the shirt and JJ’s arm for pressure, the wound continued to ooze blood, dripping loosely to the deck in a mix of saltwater. Sarah turned away before she became sick. His entire left side, just under his ribs, was angry red and inflamed. “I thought you said he pushed you overboard?”
“He did.” JJ grimaced. “Just, fell onto the anchor first.”
Pope was the first to return to reality. “He’s been bleeding out for the past hour in the water. We have to stop the bleeding and disinfect it before it gets any worse.”
“There might be a bottle of vodka leftover in the hull,” Kiara proposed. Thank God for their underage escapades. Kiara rummaged around looking for the bottle. JJ would think this is such bullshit, pouring out “liquid gold” rather than drinking it . It was almost enough to bring a smile to her lips. Almost. She noticed a discarded, half-smoked joint and pocketed it for later.
“Hey Kie!” Cleo looked back from the wheel. “Come here girl. You’re not gonna want to see this.” Kiara passed her the bottle reluctantly. She was right, and she knew JJ wouldn’t want her to see it either.
“No…” JJ groaned as the boys took their positions on either side to hold him down.
“Gotta clean the wound, rude boy. This isn’t gonna feel great.” With only a slight hesitation, Cleo began to pour the alcohol into his side.
The screaming started first. It was almost enough to make the others stop. Hell, they didn’t even know if this was the right thing to do in the first place. With one glance at each other, though, the pogues knew they had no choice but to continue.
JJ writhed on the deck like he was trying to climb out of his own body. Trying to get as far away from the pain as he could. Pope and John B held firm, but couldn’t look him in the eyes.
The screams eventually turned to sobs. JJ gasped for air, choking until he finally passed out. Even in his unconscious state, it was clear how much pain the boy was in. There was no escape.
The pogues were approaching their hideout when the bleeding finally stopped, JJ’s wound haphazardly wrapped. They all sat in a traumatized silence. JJ was still unconscious on the deck, his chest shallowly rising and falling. The pogues were afraid to speak, as if it would break the spell keeping their friend alive.
Sarah shifted uncomfortably. She hated seeing JJ this still. It was unnatural. “Guys,” she quietly began, “He really needs to go to the hospital.”
“Not an option right now.” John B tore his gaze from JJ long enough to look at Sarah. “He’d be locked up immediately.”
“Maybe it’s just me, but I’d prefer that to him being dead.” The “d word” hung in the air.
John B replied slowly. “Sarah, as ridiculous as it sounds, I don’t think JJ would agree with you.”