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Pope takes it the hardest. He doesn't look JJ in the eye for a full day. It comes up casually. As casual as something like Luke Maybank can be . It’s just the three of them– Pope, JJ and John B. Fishing out on the dock, taking a breather for the first time in what felt like weeks.
A boat passes by. It isn’t anything special– Pope barely gives it a second glance until John B is commenting on it.
“That looks like your dad’s boat,” he’s saying to JJ, like it isn’t the boat he and Sarah died on. Like it’s just another boat.
JJ looks up from his line, his lip juts out in a pout. And he nods. “Could be an exact replica, yeah.”
It’s silent for a second. Pope looks between the two boys, but John B has moved on. JJ looks like he wants to say something, biting at his cheek like he does when he’s most anxious. John B glances at him finally, notices his drawn in eyebrows and his pinched lips. It’s like his attention is enough for JJ to spill. Like he’s been given permission to talk, almost. Pope doesn’t quite get it yet. All the parts of JJ he seemed to miss over the past five years.
But JJ just shrugs. Reels in the line, casts it all over again. “Too bad it’s on the bottom of the ocean,” is what he says. John B frowns, no doubt thinking about their unconventional trip to the Bahamas. JJ notices, Pope thinks, because he scrunches his face in a grimace, like he’s got some invisible injury they can't see. “Yeah, Dad wasn’t too happy with that one.”
“You never told me,” John B says, little hesitation. He recasts his line, doesn’t even look up. JJ never told any of them, now that Pope really thinks about it. He never asked how Luke took the destruction of his most prized possession. “Was he angry?”
“Angry?” JJ tries to laugh, but there’s something deeper behind it. Regret, almost. “I couldn’t walk straight for a week. Couldn’t even leave the house. Was worried someone would call the cops on ‘him again.”
Pope blinks, hard. John B just nods, a solemn look on his face. Solemn, but expected. Like he already knew the answer, and asking JJ was just a way to help him get it off his chest.
Popes noticed it more recently. The way John B treats JJ so carefully, and the way JJ lets him. John B brings up Luke most days, every since he left the island. JJ always clams up at the name, but he talks about him now, which is more than he used to do. Growing up, Pope didn’t even know JJ had parents. It wasn’t until he’d known him for a good six months that JJ mentioned his dad. Pope just assumed he and John B were brothers, or something. Big John treated JJ like enough of a son that he never questioned it.
But JJ talks about Luke, sometimes, and John B listens. Popes thinking about it, now. He’s thinking about it until JJ’s statement sinks in a little deeper, and he finally absorbs the words that came from JJ’s mouth.
Couldn’t walk. Couldn’t leave the house. Cops again. He feels sick to his stomach.
“What?”
Both JJ and John B look at Pope like he has four heads. But his jaw is dropped and his eyebrows are scrunched in the way only Pope can do. The look when he realizes something he didn’t piece together soon enough. The look he gets when he’s not the smartest person in the room. And he’s realizing it now. The pieces that he never put together. The trust he put in JJ. The comments he blatantly overlooked.
“You said— at the hot tub,” he shakes his head. “You said that never happens . That it was a one time thing, and that you would tell us if it was anything more, and you—”
He looks like he's about to double over. Like the past ten years of his life has been a lie. Like he didn’t even try to protect his friend when he could have done more. He should’ve thought about it harder. Should’ve looked past JJ’s lie when he promised him and Kie it was ‘ a one time thing’ when they found him in the hottub.
Instead, he took his word for it. Pope held him tightly, he and Kie wrapped around JJ’s body while they waited for the storm to pass. Listening to his wrecked sobs and he drunken mumbling until John B stumbled into the mess, suddenly put in the position to fix it up neatly with a nice bow. And that’s what he did. Because he’s John B, and it’s JJ, and he’ll do anything for JJ. Even if that means keeping a secret from his closest friends, lying for the most important person in his life.
Pope is still processing it all. All the years growing up. The bruises and the cuts and the scars and the flinching and the— there’s been a hundred signs, is what he realizes.
“You were scared of my dad for years ,” he says quietly. He’s going through the list in his head. Analyzing all the things that stand out. He can hear JJ sigh softly beside him, and he knows if he looked up he’d see him biting his lip again. But he doesn’t look up. He’s too busy going down memory lane. “And of Big John, and Mr. Coleman at school. You– you have a scar the size of antarctica across your hip and another above your eyebrow, and you’ve been stuck in the craziest love, hate relationship with your house since he left the island, and—”
He’s breathless, again.
“ Again?” He’s asking, going back to JJ’s words. Worried about the cops being called again . “What do you mean–”
He runs his hand over his face, anxiety clouding his chest. He doesn’t see JJ make his way beside him. He’s just suddenly there, sitting beside Pope just a few inches away. He’s quiet, offering up a small, “It’s okay , Pope. I’m sorry .”
John B is on the other side of him now, slinging an arm around Pope’s shoulder, but it’s too much. He pushes John B off, struggles to stand. He paces the dock for a minute. He looks at JJ, but won’t look him in the eyes. Just glances at his eyebrows, then his lips before mumbling “I need some air,” and walking off into the yard.
At first, JJ is worried Pope thinks he’s making it all up. It's what he tells John B. They’re left sitting on the dock, and JJ is an anxious mess. Just shaking his head back and forth, tears threatening to spill over as he recounts the whole thing to John B like he wasn’t sitting right next to him.
“I shouldn’t have–” he looks green in his face, shaking his head. “I should’ve just kept my mouth shut. Jesus– why can’t I ever–”
“Hey– chill, bub,” John B says softly. He doesn’t wrap an arm around JJ– he knows better. But he does push into him, their biceps pressed together gently. “It’s Pope. You know how he works. He just needs a minute to process it all.”
“He hates me,” JJ whispers, and it’s so soft.
Quiet JJ is John B’s least favorite version of his best friend. Quiet JJ means he’s turned inward, thinking of all the ways he messed up. He’s repeating Luke’s words and any untrue thing that’s ever been said about him. Weak. Not worth it. Unloyal. Reckless. Thief. Liar. Bad friend. Just like his dad.
John B can practically hear it as JJ rocks back and forth. Thinking of all the reasons Pope reacted the way he did, all the worst case scenarios that start with JJ. John B reassures him otherwise. He always does, always will. He tells him it's got nothing to do with pity or trust or belief. It has everything to do with time. How long JJ has known compared to how long Pope has known. How long they’ve been friends, and how long he’s been in the dark. How Pope hates thinking about JJ hurting.
“Give him time, J,” John B says. “You’ve known longer than he has.”
JJ bites his lip, looks like he could throw up. John B nudges into him, waits for JJ to push him back. And he does. Pushes his shoulder into John B’s rib, and John B grins easily before resting his head on JJ’s.
“It’s gonna be alright, JJ.”
“Tell me again?”
“Pope loves you, shitbird,” he says, easy smile. “It’s gonna be alright.”
It’s more sure this time, and JJ nods. Thinks he believes him.
It’s harder than he wants it to be– giving Pope time. He’s working on the Twinkie an hour later, and Pope ignores him when JJ calls across the yard, asking if Pope could lend him a hand. He pretends it doesn’t sting as much as it does. Pope is looking in the fridge when JJ walks into the kitchen, but when JJ goes to speak, Pope lets it shut as he walks out the room. JJ is left biting his lips, forcing himself into the breathing exercises John B taught him.
They plan on taking the boat out for a spin later that night, and Pope stays back. Nobody says anything, other than Kie’s, “What’s stuck up his ass tonight?” John B shrugs and tells her not to think too hard about it. Kiara coaxes the quiet out of JJ with a blunt and Sarah aids with some light teasing. He loosens up eventually, and they can’t miss the smile that hits John B’s face when the anxiety seems to leave JJ’s body.
When they get back, they find Pope sitting on the dock. JJ looks at John B, the anxiety suddenly back in his chest. His eyes are wide, and he’s gnawing at his cheek again. John B snakes an arm around JJ’s shoulder, grabs his jaw and plants a big kiss on his cheek. JJ can’t help but laugh. He pushes John B away, but not enough to keep him from coming back.
“I’m proud of you,” John B says, and he watches JJ squirm with a smile.
“What are we proud about?” Kie asks it, suddenly on the other side of JJ. She wraps an arm around his bicep, lets her thumb stoke the inside of his arm.
“Our best friend is pretty awesome,” John B shrugs, says it with a dramatic sigh.
“That’s not anything new,” JJ mumbles. “I’m always awesome.”
“Emotionally vulnerable, then,” John B clarifies, winking at Kie.
“Yeah,” Kie scoffs, grazes his arm gently. He leans into her more, smiles easy. “ That’s a new one.”
JJ raises his eyebrows, looks between his two best friends. “You know what? Fuck both of you.”
“Doesn't matter,” John B reaches up, pinches the dimple on JJ cheek. JJ tries to dodge it, but misses. He really doesn’t mind, anyways. “Still proud of you.”
JJ docks the boat, and Kiara wraps one arm around Sarah and she smiles to Pope as they hop off. John B’s not far behind them, running to catch up. He ducks underneath Sarah and Kie’s arms to break in the middle with a ‘ wait for me!’ The girls laugh, and JJ bites back a smile.
Pope is staring at the water. Small waves ripple into the dock. His feet sway off the side, hands braced on the wooden boards. JJ sits next to him. Not too close, but not too far away.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” he starts. “I get it. If you hate me for not telling you.”
It’s silent for a minute, against JJ’s better judgement. He wants to keep talking. He wants to spill every word that feels pent up in his chest. He wants to run laps up and down the dock until the anxiety is gone and the feeling is resolved– but he knows better . Pope is gentle. He’s careful, and still, and he needs the silence. The only sounds come from the birds in the sky and the water against the dock. JJ waits. It takes every bone in his body to keep quiet and still, until he hears Pope suck in a shaky breath.
“I told you–” Pope says finally, pursing his lips like the thought of his words are painful. “I told you it was insensitive. To lie about something like that– and– Jesus .”
He looks green in the face, but JJ barely notices. He’s confused.
“What?”
“Even when you showed up to Midsommers with the bruises, and the truth— I still said it.”
JJ still isn’t sure what he’s talking about. Whatever it is has Pope worked into a frenzy, fingers gripping his short hair. JJ nudges Pope's knee with his own, tries to get his attention. “What are you goin’ on about, Pope?”
“That day at the junkyard,” Pope says, like it’s obvious. “When you got away from that guy and his fucking dog— because you told him that lie about your dad. And I told you it was insensitive to real victims.”
JJ barely remembers, if he’s being honest. He remembers stealing the drone and giving a shitty excuse he knew the guy would believe, but he only vaguely remembers Pope chewing him out for it. They were recounting the trip to the junk yard with John B, the four of them crowded on the Chateau's porch. When John B asked how he got away and JJ told the truth, he earned an eyeroll and a lecture from Pope. Still, he hadn’t said a word. Just nodded along and told Pope he was right. He ignored John B’s concerned gaze bearing down on him, and they moved on.
He hasn’t thought about it since, and it hits JJ, suddenly. That Pope doesn’t hate him. He doesn’t think he’s lying or saying it for attention. He’s not mad at JJ for not saying something sooner. He’s mad at himself .
He should’ve known Pope would beat himself up over it. For a second, JJ thinks Pope might actually double over, then and there. Puke right into the ocean. But he doesn’t, because JJ is wrapping an arm around his shoulder, pulling him close. Pope doesn’t know when he starts crying, but his cheeks are wet, and so is the shoulder of JJ’s favorite Kildare shirt.
“Easy, bud,” JJ says, soft. “Let it out.”
“I told you—“ he chokes back a sob. “And you were a victim, J. You are a victim.”
JJ scrunches his nose, suddenly too aware of his past. “I don’t— I don’t know about using that technicality, there, Popey—“
Pope cries harder.
“But, yeah, alright,” JJ finds himself saying, running a hand along Pope's bicep. “We can call it that. If it makes you understand it better.”
Pope looks at JJ, eyes wide and red. “If I had just looked closer— if I hadn’t been so wrapped up in my own shit—“
“ Pope, hey,” JJ smiles, soft. He runs a thumb across Pope's cheek. “If I wanted you to know, you would’ve. Alright? I just— I wasn’t ready to be seen that way. You know?”
“Seen what way?”
“As a victim.”
It comes out small, and timid. He sounds so young when he says it, and it hits Pope even harder, if that’s possible. JJ doesn’t say anything, though. He keeps running his hand along Pope's arm, waits for him to stop crying.
And he does, eventually. The sobs quiet down, and he’s not swatting at his eyes, just keeps his head fixed on the water. JJ cranes his neck to get a better look at him, “Are you okay?”
“Am I okay?” Pope’s face drops, and he starts crying again. JJ mentally kicks himself. He wonders if this is how John B feels, these days. Always coming to the rescue when JJ is on the verge of a breakdown. But just like John B knows JJ, JJ knows Pope. He’s practically fluent in Pope. Has been for years. So it’s not shocking when Pope chokes out, “shouldn’t I be asking you? I never even asked .”
JJ pulls Pope closer, letting a quiet ‘shh’ fall from his lips. It’s easy. Holding Pope in his arms, calming him down. He was there when John B disappeared in the storm, when Pope was having nightmares every night. He was there when Pope had panic attacks over his scholarship interviews and final exams, and he was there when Rafe knocked him senseless. Holding Pope isn’t new.
The reason has just shifted. Instead of protecting Pope from the things they can’t control, it’s about protecting Pope from him. His past, and his shitty family, and his fucked childhood. He doesn’t know how to tell Pope that it’s okay . That nothing stuck with him— not the words or the broken ribs or the nightmares.
Because Pope knows better. He’s seen JJ cry over the idea of his father, and he’s heard his screams around Luke’s name in the middle of the night, and he’s studied the scars that cover his body. He knows JJ isn’t alright. Maybe now, maybe eventually. But not always.
“You were just a kid, Pope,” he says, and Pope can tell it’s supposed to be reassuring. His voice is soft, careful as he tries to ease Pope’s guilt. “You couldn’t have done anything.”
It’s rich, coming from JJ.
JJ who was forced to grow up quicker than any of the pogues. JJ who’s been on his own since he was ten years old. JJ , who has been taking care of them for as long as Pope can remember. JJ who just finally turned seventeen last month, the last of the group.
“We were all kids,” Pope says. “ You were a kid.”
He doesn’t cry out we’re all still kids like he wants to. Instead, he keeps his mouth shut and lets himself melt into JJ’s warm touch. He focuses on JJ’s hand grazing his arm, and the sound of his voice soft in his ears.
“I know, Pope,” JJ tells him. “I know that. I just— I wasn’t a kid for as long as you guys were. And that’s— it’s alright, Pope. I had people lookin’ out for me.”
Pope looks at him, eyes wide, like he wants names. Like he wants proof that JJ wasn’t all alone.
“I had you guys, and Big John—“ Pope opens his mouth, like JJ needs to be reminded that he used to flinch at Big John’s presence. JJ stops him, though, pulls away for just a second to get a better look at Pope. “Hey— let’s not pretend like you weren’t scared of him too,” he grins. “You didn’t need your dad to beat you senseless to realize Big John’s hands were twice the size of our heads . Sue me, for being weary.”
Pope laughs, and he tries not to think about how easy it is for JJ to joke about what Luke did to him.
“And I had your dad—“ JJ bites his lip, like he’s trying to decide if he should hold his tongue or not. “I mean, who do you think called the cops on Luke, Popey?”
“My dad did?”
JJ nods, smiles softly. “I had no clue. And I was pissed, too. Shoupe was on my ass for months after that, and my dad was so fuckin’ mad. Thought I called ‘em, and took everything I had to convince him it wasn’t me. But you know what?”
Pope doesn’t say anything. He’s too scared to know. But JJ is relentless, and he’s poking Pope in the ribs until he gives in.
“What, J?”
“The second I found out it was Heyward– the second I saw that look in his eyes–,” his voice breaks a little, like he’s remembering it all over again. The feeling of being seen and cared for, even from a distance. He smiles, gentle. “Your dad cared, Pope. He stepped in, like so many other adults that I could barely let myself trust . They showed me what it’s like to be taken care of, and loved, and I know— I know I still struggle with that sometimes. Letting you guys in, and all that shit.”
Pope lets out a laugh, half scoff as he recalls all the times JJ has pushed him away. JJ can’t help but laugh with his, shaking his head. “I’m learning, Pope. I’m not good at it, but I’m tryin.”
Somewhere in the distance, he hears John B’s voice echo from the house. It’s followed by a high pitched screech from Sarah, and what sounds like Kiara’s laugh. They both turn towards the yard, just in time to see the string lights flicker on. He can imagine it, the three of them waiting for them in the hot tub. JJ drapes an arm around Pope’s shoulders, squeezes him close.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” he says again. “I just love you too much to make you carry it, too.”
Pope thought he was all out of tears, but more somehow well up in his eyes as his lip quivers at the sight of JJ’s face. He buries himself in JJ instead, his nose pressed into the crook of JJ’s neck. JJ’s arms are tight around his torso, warm and steady when Pope starts to shake gently. He runs his hand along Pope’s arm again, and he thinks about how lucky he is to have people that care so much. Despite the bad and the ugly he’s endured over the years. The nightmares and memories that still plague his present. Between it all, there is good. And a big part of the good is pressed between his arms, showing him just how important he really is. He could stay here forever, and be perfectly fine.