Work Text:
They spend the first day cleaning. Clearing the porch and the counters and ridding the floor of trash. JJ takes the brunt of the work. He’s more embarrassed than he’d ever admit— John B can tell by the way he surveys the living room the second they step into the house. He rubs his hand along his chest and worries his bottom lip between his teeth. By the time he lets it go, the soft skin is dotted with blood.
His eyes flick to John B briefly, then back to the wreck that he used to call his home. And it is that— a wreck . They’re all looking at it, trying to figure out if they made a mistake. There’s trash everywhere. Crushed beer cans and shattered bottles. Empty orange pill containers. White powder on the coffee table. Dishes piled in the sink, cabinets off the hinges.
JJ holds his breath. Kie places a hand on his shoulder, like her touch will soothe him. Usually, it does. But his body is rigid, and he’s tugging at his hat. Takes it off, puts it back on. Repeats it methodically as he studies the mess in front of him.
John B eyes Kiara, giving her a small shake of his head. She pulls her hand back. John B offers a soft smile, then claps one hand on JJ’s chest and the other on his back. It’s hard, but comforting as it jerks JJ from his thoughts. It’s like John B has perfected the difference between soft and hard touch, and when to use each. When to use neither.
He knows that in times like these, soft touches send a shiver down JJ’s spine. They linger and draw the memories in. Hard touches are grounding. A slap on the back. A squeeze of his shoulder. A playful elbow to the ribs.
Kiara’s learning, slowly but surely. She’s thankful John B is here.
“Not that bad, bubba. I’ve seen worse,” John B says. “You and I are on clean up duty.”
JJ nods, like his brain is lagging just a second. His mouth parted slightly, his eyes glassy. John B keeps his hands pressed into JJ as he turns to the girls.
“You ladies want to grab paint from the hardware store?”
It’s only until they all split off that John B pulls his hands away. JJ lets out the breath he was holding, and musters a thanks . Pope sticks around to help. He has a stack of black trash bags Heyward gave him, and a positive attitude that snaps JJ back to reality. Neither of them ask if he’s okay. They ask other things.
When was the last time you were here? What needs to go first? What do you want to keep? Do you miss him? Do you miss her?
They share a look when JJ answers the questions. Part of John B thought JJ would dodge every one, but he doesn’t. It surprises Pope and John B. His answers are quick and to the point, but they’re honest.
He hasn’t seen Luke since he left from the docks. Not since he cornered him at the Chateau. The pills need to go. The pills, and the coke, and anything that looks hard . John B doesn’t get that part. Not until he asks JJ what he means, and JJ points to a baseball bat in the corner of the room. That’s when it clicks. He and Pope share another look, and John B feels anger build up in his chest when he thinks about it too hard. He knows Pope feels the same way. But JJ has moved on, just tossing things into a trash bag without a second thought.
He wants to keep small things. There's a few framed pictures that stay, even if the glass is shattered. Pope tells him they’ll find new frames. Most things in JJ’s room stay. A couple things from Luke’s. An old jewelry box that John B can only assume was his moms. A box full of old letters, old pictures. There’s an old watch, too, that JJ can’t stop looking at. John B remembers seeing it on Luke’s wrist before. That stays, too.
He misses them both. John B wants to be shocked, but he’s not.
They fall into a rhythm, after a while. JJ keeps apologizing for the place being a wreck, but the boys don’t mind. They poke fun at him and they talk about the past, and it’s not as heavy as JJ expected. He’s cracking jokes after thirty minutes, and John B finally relaxes when he does.
They get it mostly cleared out by the time the girls get back. The boys meet them outside, taking the gallon sized paint buckets from them. JJ’s muscles strain at the weight, his lean arms visible in his cutoff t-shirt. Kiara can’t help but admire him as he walks just ahead of her. He pauses before they reach the porch, turning to look at her. She gives him a soft smile. He bites his lip.
“I’m sorry,” he says. It’s quiet, for JJ. They’re the only two still outside, but it’s like he doesn’t want the others to hear. “This is— it’s kinda a lot. Seeing it all again. With you guys here.”
“I can’t imagine,” she says honestly, because she can’t. She’d never seen inside his house prior to today. It was the one part of JJ that he never shared with anyone else. It was even a mystery to John B, and that surprised her more than anything. “It’s alright if it’s not easy. I don’t think it’s supposed to be.”
He nods, and there’s a brief moment where Kiara thinks he’ll say something else. But he doesn’t. He forces a smile, the corners of his lips tugging in an attempt to reassure her. It doesn’t.
She follows him inside. Kiara would never admit it, but she’s impressed with how quick they worked. All the trash is gone, and the house is practically empty. Aside from the coffee table and the couch, the area is clear. Pope scrubs the kitchen counters. Cleo is pushing the windows open. Sarah shows John B the paint colors they chose.
JJ watches them all. The paint cans still hanging from his grip are heavy, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He’s too focused on his people in his space. The crossover that’s never happened. Kiara slides a hand along his arm, and he leans into it this time. He closes his eyes and breathes steady.
“One thing at a time, baby,” Kiara says softly.
The place is surprisingly spotless by the time the sun sets. They spend the night tucked into sleeping bags on the living room floor. They’re in a jumbled circle, JJ’s pressed between John B and a giggly Kiara. They ate take out from The Wreck and smoked a joint in the front yard, and JJ feels like his body has finally relaxed. It allows him to drift into an easy sleep, only to be woken with a start two hours later.
The house is dark and quiet. It’s too quiet. Sure, he can hear the sound of his friends breathing softly, can practically feel the five heartbeats in his own chest. Like he’s in tune with each of them, trying to make sure they’re all okay. He forces himself to close his eyes, and he wills sleep to take over once more.
But his steady high is long gone, and he thinks it would make him too much like his dad if he lights up another by himself. He carefully pulls away from the sleeping bag, worried the sound will wake someone up. They all stay asleep, though, and he slips out the front door.
They find him on the porch the next morning. Tucked in the corner of the porch swing, making himself as small as possible. John B finds him first, Kiara coming up behind him a few minutes later. The worry in her chest leaves when she sees how peaceful he looks. Worrylines gone, his face soft.
They watch him for too long. Not a word spoken between them, just easy breathing as they take it in.
“This is hard on him,” Kiara says, finally.
“I should’ve said no,” John B shakes his head. Kiara doesn’t have to ask what he means. She knows. Knows that John B is feeling guilting for going along with the idea of buying the house in the first place. It seemed like the easiest solution. In some ways, it still is . But not when it comes to JJ. Never when it comes to JJ.
Because he’ll never tell them. He’ll never say that the memories still haunt him, that the past is just as close as the present. He’ll never admit that the air is still suffocating and the walls still talk of the things he tries so hard to forget.
“You guys are creepy as fuck , you know that?”
JJ’s voice is deep, hoarse in the way that only comes with sleep. Kiara smiles easily, rolling her eyes as she flops down next to him. He leans up and kisses her jaw, and she falls into his arms.
John B forces a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s paint time, baby,” he says. “You ready?”
They all tackle their own rooms. John B and Sarah are in Luke’s old room. Nobody says it, but JJ feels bad that they’re the ones that ended up with it. John B volunteered himself, though. Said something about being the only married couple, something about that level of commitment deserves the master bathroom . Pope and Cleo get a room downstairs, one tucked just past the kitchen. JJ and Kie are in his old room.
They spend all day painting. Fresh air blows through the open windows. Rain falls faintly outside. Sarah plays music from a speaker, putting it in the hallway so they can all hear it. It’s an odd mix, jumping from hardcore rock to some soft alternative mix. JJ can hear John B teasing her about it down the hall, and it makes him smile.
When JJ’s favorite song comes on, he begs Sarah to turn it up, and he gives Kie a whole performance. He’s light— light in a way she hasn’t seen him in a long time. She can’t stop the grin spreading across her face, doesn’t stop him from picking her up and spinning her around. The paint on his hands smears across her waist, and she shrieks with laughter. She swipes her paint brush across his cheek, and it turns into a full paint war. Soon they’re both covered in blue paint, and JJ hasn’t stopped laughing since they started.
They each give a tour of their new rooms. Pope and Cleo have a soft green painted on the walls, and it makes the room look bigger than it is. JJ drum rolls against the door frame as they show their friends the newly blue room. It’s different than it used to be, the once yellows walls now looking more inviting in the color Kie chose.
By the time they make it to John B and Sarah’s space, his heart is beating in his chest. He doesn’t know why. Deep down, he knows it’s just a room. When Sarah throws open the door, a smile on her face, JJs breath catches.
It’s pink— the most Sarah thing JJ could ever imagine. It’s soft, and it’s different. So obviously different than it used to be. Sarah is ecstatic, and John B can’t stop looking at her. The biggest smile on his face as he watches her show it off. Kiara’s in love with the color, and Pope is more impressed with the paint job.
JJ is stuck on how much it’s changing. It’s Cleo that throws an arm around his shoulder. He’s stiff for a moment, before finally forcing himself to relax. “He’s gotta be real in love with that girl to sleep in a room this color,” she says. JJ can’t help the laugh that leaves his lips. “Same way you gotta love us a hella lot to move back here.”
It hits JJ hard. His breath catches, and his heart pounds. She tightens her arm around him, squeezing him closer before letting her arm fall. “We see you, Rude boy. No need to hide.”
They build a fire outside and roast hot dogs over it for dinner. JJ falls asleep next to Kie in their blue room, but he disappears to the porch by the time she wakes up. Nobody says anything about it.
They spend the next day painting the kitchen and the living room. Sarah chose the light seafoam green that coats the walls, claiming they needed some color to spice things up . Kiara is on aux, and she plays Marley the whole time. She tries to hide the smile on her face that comes with JJ humming along, arms stretched overhead as he reaches the tall parts of the wall with his roller.
It’s John B that decides to take the crooked cabinet doors off the hinges and not put them back on. A part of JJ is thankful— he remembers the way they’d slam hard, sending a shiver of fear through his chest when Luke was angry. Sarah protests at first, saying they don’t have the right bones to make the open cabinet thing work, but John B is confident in JJ’s handy work. He’s right to be, because soon JJ has worked them into something you’d see in a Better Living magazine. A nice stain on the wood, sturdy shelves that look classy.
The shelves are filled with colorful plates and bowls and glasses. A combination of pieces Kiara picked up from the thrift store. They all match, somehow. Blue and green sea glass and painted pottery. They look nice on the shelves, Sarah’s seafoam green popping behind the dishware.
They eat dinner in the kitchen, finally. They use the now clean oven to bake a frozen pizza, and they sit on the kitchen floor eating off their mismatched plates. Bob Marley stays on the speaker as they sip lukewarm beers and joke about their interior design dreams. It’s JJ’s favorite night so far.
Still, he sleeps on the porch.
Kiara finds a nice dining room table. It’s nothing special, but it’s big. Big enough for the six chairs she found to go around it, giving them all a space to sit next to each other. She sands it down using Luke’s tools left in the garage. JJ finds her there, clear glasses perched on her nose and a bandana around her mouth. He stands in the doorway, arms crossed as he watches her.
He’s impressed. The way she continues to surprise him, turning the house he hated into a home he’s learning to love. He doesn’t interrupt her, or stop her to ask if she wants him to take over. He respects her pride too much to ask. Loves her too much to ask. He just watches her with a smile on his face, only steps closer when she’s switched off the sander and meets his gaze. She pulls the bandana down with a grin, holds her arms out like get a load of this .
He steps closer, wraps his arms around her waist and kisses her cheek. Tells her he’s never been more in love with her than he is now.
He helps her carry the table into the yard, each of them on one end of the table. She shows him how to stain it, and they work quietly rubbing the dark stain into the wood. He’s staining the wood, looking at the yard, and the patch of grass that refuses to grow. It’s where his dads truck used to sit.
Sarah joins them later. She has a spark in her eyes, paint brushes in her hands. Her idea is simple— everyone paints their own chair. Kie is beaming. She grins widely, her and Sarah jumping up and down over the thought. John B and Pope get back from surfing, Cleo joins them in the yard. JJ lights a joint.
Soon, each chair is covered in colorful designs and creatures. Octopuses and starfish on Sarah’s. A treasure chest for John B. Pope goes for an alternating pattern of blues and greens. Cleo has an abstract mix of lines and swirls, the colors mixing into each other easily. Kiara’s is a sunset. Beautiful purples and deep blues blend into pinks and oranges. JJ goes for his infamous chicken on the seat, and an ocean on the legs. Seaweed trails down the wood, complete with goldfish and crabs among it.
They’re high and happy when the sun sets, complimenting each other’s work like they’ve dedicated their whole lives to this moment.
Kiara finally asks him, on the sixth night. Why can’t you sleep in our bed . It comes out gentler than that. A soft way of saying it, a way that JJ could digest. She finds him on the porch, again. Tucked in the corner of the old, rickety swing. He’s still awake, gaze trained on the water.
He doesn’t seem to notice her, not until she sits down next to him. The swing stutters at the added weight, and JJ’s head snaps to her, a breath caught in his throat until it clicks.
“Geez, baby,” he huffs out a laugh, his hand finding its way to his chest. “Can’t sneak up on a guy like that.”
“Do we need a new mattress?” she asks. In retrospect, it was meant to be gentler. Kiara just sometimes can’t control her blunt nature, especially when it comes to the people she loves.
JJ just blinks at her, his lips parted slightly as his eyebrows draw in. “What?”
“Or— or maybe new sheets?” She’s going down the list now, trying to think of all the reasons he can’t sleep. “Did you have a pillow, or something? Like one that you can’t fall asleep without?”
“Kie, baby,” he says, quiet. He doesn’t bother pointing out that all of these are a luxury he wasn’t given growing up. There was no special pillow. No new sheets to change out. No way to switch mattresses. He was lucky if he slept at all.
He got used to spending the night not in his room. Anywhere was better than the Maybank house. Sometimes it was on Pope's floor. Most of the time it was at the Chateau. He’d alternate between the pullout couch and John B’s bed, pressed into his friend's side on the nights the nightmares were the worst.
“Maybe it’s the color of the room? We can paint it back, or we can get a new color—“
“It’s not the color of the room, Kie.”
Just for a second, the curtain drops. She stops, finally turns to look at him. His eyes are soft, the corners of his mouth tugged into a frown. It reminds her of the time she asked him what they were. The very first time he told her she shouldn’t care about him, about what they could be.
It’s guilt, she realizes. The look that always flashes across his face. The one she usually can’t place. It’s like the words are stuck on the tip of his tongue. Like he wants to say them, but something is holding him back.
“Just say it, J,” she whispers. “Don’t do that thing where you pretend like nothing is wrong.”
“Nothing's wrong—“ he tries, but it’s less convincing than he hopes. Before Kiara can protest again, he’s stopping her. “Look, Kie. It’s nothing. Promise. We can talk about it tomorrow, if you really need to— but right now, I really just want to listen to the crickets and pretend like I’m not in Luke’s house.”
He says it flippantly. He wraps his arm around her shoulder and pulls her close, her head falling in the crook of his neck. His hand trails through her curls, runs along her own arm. His skin is warm against hers. It always has been— the group calls them a human radiator more often than not. He’s just always run hot.
Being in his arms is second nature. It’s comfortable. So comfortable that she almost forgets what he said. Luke’s house .
He’s still there when she wakes up. His eyes closed, his face soft. His arms still wrapped around her body. Her legs are tangled in his. She stretches, yawns easily. It’s early. The sun peaks just above the water, the clouds hazey along the horizon. It’s the first time she’s woken up next to him in a week. It feels good. It feels normal.
She hears him suck in a breath beside her, can feel his heart rate pick up beneath her. His muscles tense and goosebumps trail his arms. It sends a shiver down her spine, makes her press herself to sit up. But once his eyes find hers, he relaxes. His muscles lax and his eyes soften. He pulls up to press a kiss to her cheek, then to the edge of her nose, and then he’s out of the porch swing. Holding his hand out to her, waiting for her to take it. She does.
They walk barefoot along the shore, hand in hand. She wants to talk, but she’s worried one wrong word, and he’ll bolt.
“I wake up, and I don’t know where I am,” he says, suddenly. His voice is still thick with sleep, raspy and hoarse as he finally speaks. “And then I remember where, and it’s like I can’t figure out when .”
It’s the tip of the iceberg, but it’s enough for Kiara.
Everyone else is awake by the time they’re stepping onto the porch. Sarah is talking to Pope about putting a garden out back. John B flips pancakes. Cleo is cutting up vegetables to put in omelettes. Kie goes upstairs to shower, and JJ slides onto the counter beside John B.
“When did we get so grown up? Makin’ omelettes, ” JJ mutters, watching them cook.
John B grins. Steals a green pepper from Cleo’s cutting board and throws it at JJ. He swerves, catches it in his mouth before it has time to bounce off his forehead. Cleo rolls her eyes, but there’s a playful smile at her lips.
Kie comes downstairs with water dripping from her curls. She wraps an arm around JJs waist and asks them if she can do anything to help. They tag team setting up the table.
They all eat around their new table in their new chairs. The paint dried overnight, and they’re perched on the seats they each made their own. Sarah wants tomatoes for the garden. Cleo wants a variety of peppers, some that remind her of home. Kie is the one who thinks of the weed. JJ’s eyes light up, and John B nudges her shoulder with an easy, “now we’re talkin.”
The girls go to the local nursery. A friend of a friend knows the owner, and Sarah grew up going as a kid. She thinks they can score a good deal, and just like that, they’re growing a garden.
The boys find a good patch of soil to the side of the house. JJ digs up an array of shovels and plows from the garage, ones that never got much use from the Maybanks growing up. When John B asks where he got it all, JJ shrugs and tells him his mom used to garden when he was a kid.
It’s hard work, a labor of love as they sweat in the South Carolina summer heat. It’s all worth it, though. They spend the whole afternoon prepping the ground, and they clap and holler when the girls come back. All three have their arms full of everything they’d need to start a garden from scratch. Seeds and vines and starter roots.
Sarah and Kie squeal as JJ presses the first tomato vine into the fresh soil. They hold hands and grin from ear to ear. JJ bites his lip, can’t believe this is his life. His house. His girl that he loves so much.
Sarah and Kie take over eventually. Sarah has blue gloves with a floral print on the tops, but Kiara is one with the earth. The dirt stains her hands and buries deep into the lines of her palms. John B helps JJ tackle the bigger things. There’s a lemon tree ready to be planted. They dig a hole towards the back of the garden, the hard soil requiring both of their strength to break through. They get it in the end, setting the lemon three right in the center and mounding dirt around it.
Kie and Sarah promise they have the rest handled, so John B and JJ retreat inside to shower. Cleo and Pope are on dinner duty, something mentioned about fresh fish and veggies they found at the local farmers market.
The bathroom is the last room in the house that’s left with the original color. A dingy yellow surrounds him, steam billowing in the mirror. JJ looks at it. He decides he hates it. He decides it reminds him too much of his past, and it makes him feel nauseous when he stares at it too long. He tells John B that much when they’re downstairs again, and John B just shrugs.
“Let’s change it, then,” he says. It’s so simple, how easily John B makes the decision. He squeezes JJ’s shoulder, promises him they’ll tackle it first thing tomorrow.
Sarah brushed the dining room chairs with a clear coat, just so the paint wouldn’t chip down the road. They eat dinner outside, waiting for the chairs to dry. They admire their handy work as they eat, the garden visible from the front yard, next to JJ’s favorite oak tree. They play a game of truth or dare, just like they did on the island. Just like they did when they were kids. It ends on a dare for JJ. It ends with JJ climbing his favorite oak tree, and admiring his family from a whole new view.
Kiara doesn’t even bother with their bed. They sleep on the porch swing again. They fall asleep in each other's arms, and they wake up the same way.
John B and JJ take the Twinkie over to Heywards. He helps them sift through his old shed out back, hovering mostly because he misses his boys. Pope goes over most days, just to hang out and check on his mom. John B and JJ stop by less. Heyward would never say it out loud, but he misses the reckless kids they used to be.
He takes what he can get, though. They spend most of the day with him. They help him around the shop, package deliveries. They fix the faucet in the washroom, and they finish in the shed. Heyward pulls out a few things he thinks they’ll like to use at the new house, and it’s John B that finds the roll of wallpaper.
It’s baby blue with yellow sailboats and white seagulls. It’s perfect. Heyward says so, just before telling them to take it with them. He tells them they have it in their own bathroom. JJ smiles fondly, comforted by the idea of having a piece of Heyward and Pope's upbringing in the space they call home.
There’s a knock on the shed door, and Pope's face appears. Heyward's eyes light up as he eases his way to his son, hugs him tightly. They saw each other yesterday, but they embrace like it’s been a lifetime. JJ can’t help but smile, but he bites at his lip as he thinks about his own dad. John B does the same. JJ doesn’t realize it until he notices John B’s clenched fists.
Big John is still fresh. His absence. It’s been months, but something like that will never fade. JJ feels it. He can’t even imagine how strongly John B does. He slides an arm over John B’s shoulders, claps a hand lightly against his chest. It shakes John B enough from his thoughts, and he’s smiling at JJ again. The roll of wallpaper gripped in hand.
“This is perfect.”
“Damn right it is,” JJ grins.
They eat dinner with the Heywards. Yvonne can’t stop smiling, having the boys back in her kitchen. JJ is and always will be her little helper. He chops up vegetables and adds the spices and listens to her every teaching word. Pope and John B sit at the kitchen table with Heyward, listen to his stories from when he was a kid. They eat dinner around the familiar table and fill Pope's parents in on their renovation progress. Heyward asks if JJ has seen Luke. He pretends not to clam up at the name as he tells him that no, he hasn’t seen his dad. Yvonne asks John B how he and Sarah are getting along after such tremendous loss, and he’s honest.
The questions are heavy, but the conversation flows easily. It always does with family.
They promise not to be strangers. Yvonne hugs JJ tightly, and she doesn’t let go for a long time. She kisses his cheek before giving him one good look. She studies him. The crease in his forehead and the crinkles along his eyes. The scar just above his eyebrow.
“You’re a good kid, JJ,” she whispers. “Never forget that.”
She squeezes him once more before hugging John B. They say goodnight, and they make it home just after sunset. The living room is cozy. They found a new cover for the couch, and it makes the space look newer than it used to. There are lamps switched on, a soft yellow light washing over the room.
The girls are wine drunk. They each have coffee mugs filled to the brim with white wine, all three girls pressed against each other in the middle of the floor. Their backs are against the couch, their heads thrown back in laughter when the boys push through the front door.
They’re watching The Bachelor. Cleo has never seen it before, so Kiara and Sarah took it upon themselves to introduce her to their favorite pastime. She loves it. It’s an old season, a rerun with a jackass bachelor and girls fawning over his every move. The drama is at an all time high when John B’s face appears in the doorway, followed by JJ and a reluctant Pope.
John B plops onto the couch behind Sarah, and he’s immediately immersed in the show, already asking for names and back stories. He reaches for her mug full of wine, but she pulls it away playfully. Pope takes a seat beside Cleo, and he wants to know the logistics, the rules. Why they’re there, and who has the best chance of winning. Sarah thinks it’s a girl named Chelsea, but Kiara is dead set on Rebecca. Cleo is just having a good time.
JJ slides beside John B, his hip pressed into his friends. He sits with his legs crossed, Kie’s head resting against his shins. It feels nice, sitting in the middle of his people. Someone asks him for his opinion, but he just shrugs. He’s more focused on Kiara. Her hair laid against his skin. He reaches out to play with it, his fingers weaving through the curls in the way she likes. He only pauses to accept the mug Kiara hands him. He takes a big sip, scrunches his nose at the taste when she turns to him with a grin on her face.
John B intercepts the cup before Kie can grab the handle. He downs a good bit of it, dodging Kie’s hands slapping his forearms. She groans a dramatic John B as he hands back the now half empty mug. Kie and JJ pass it back and forth until it’s empty, and Sarah splits the rest of the bottle between the three of them as the next episode queues up on the TV.
In retrospect, he hasn’t had that much wine. But the warmth washes over him, and his eyes grow heavy. He stretches out on the couch. Somehow, his head finds its way to John B’s lap, and his hand drapes over Kie’s shoulder. Her cheek rests on his palm, warm against her skin. John B’s fingers are in his hair, but JJ barely registers it as he drifts off. He hears someone whisper, a quiet is he finally asleep? He wants to answer, but he’s too comfortable. The next thing he knows, it’s morning.
Sunlight pours through the open windows. The smell of coffee trails in from the kitchen. John B is still underneath him, but he’s curled into JJ, now. They’re bodies are practically one as JJ blinks himself awake. An episode of The Bachelor, a new season now, still plays softly on the TV.
He looks up, and he sees Sarah and Kie watching them from the kitchen. They can’t cover their giggles quick enough, thoroughly amused by the sight in front of them. He sits up carefully, rubs the sleep from his eyes. John B stirs beneath him.
“Dude, you’re so fuckin’ hot ,” he mumbles, voice deep. “I swear to God, I have burn marks on my thighs from your cheeks.”
JJ snorts out a laugh. He pushes John B, laughs when John B pushes back. “ Finally , someone appreciates my good looks. I’ve been telling you guys this for years .”
John B shoves him harder, hard enough that he goes toppling off the couch. He lands on the hardwood with a thud and a laugh. His hand grazes the familiar wood, and his fingers find a dent hidden along the seams. He remembers how it got there.
John B watches his. His smile dips briefly, his eyes scanning over JJ. His gaze eventually falls to the floor, sees the mark his fingers are running over again and again.
There are marks all over the house. He doesn’t know if the others have caught on to it yet, but they’re spread out along the house like scars. Notches in the floors and walls and doors. Echoes of things that once happened. Things that JJ lived through. They’ve seen the marks left on his body. The scars that stick around, stories that are either buried in distraction or honest truth. Seeing it on the house feels different to John B. It’s evidence. Cold, hard facts. Truth he can’t ignore. Stories JJ can’t hide behind.
JJ runs his fingers over it once more, stares at it for just a second. And then he looks to John B.
“We should get a rug,” JJ announces, finally. John B agrees.
Sarah and Kie tease them all morning. Something about them sleeping with each other, rather than their smoking hot girlfriends. Something else, about them being too codependent to function. JJ is immediately clocked as a lightweight, which is the last thing he ever thought he’d be called.
“Who knew?” Kie chimes in over coffee, stirring creamer into her mug. JJ raises an eyebrow. “We’ve got the keg champion right in front of us, but somehow he can’t manage half a glass of wine.”
Sarah chokes on her eggs from laughing so hard. John B makes a placard on a paper plate with the words ‘ worlds biggest wine wimp’ scrimbled on one side, and JJ Maybank scrawled underneath.
The morning is slow and easy, Cleo and Pope returning from their morning walk not long after. Pope makes his own codependent dig about the two boys sleeping together, and they can’t help but shrug their shoulders in agreement. Sarah pinches John B’s cheek and squeezes JJ’s shoulders.
“My favorite co-dependent duo,” she coos, and Kie swears she sees JJ blush.
They further prove their point when the two split off to wallpaper the bathroom. John B asks JJ seven times if he's sure he wants to do it. It’s the last room with the original color, after all. JJ finally gets his point across when he yells yes and hits John B in the balls. John B doubles over, giving him a thumbs up as he mutters, “alright, noted,” under his breath.
It’s harder than they thought it would be. It’s a tiny bathroom, and the walls are taller than they look. They’re trying to maneuver their way around the space by stepping on the toilet and the counter and the bathtub. They manage to only fall twice, the biggest injury being a nasty bruise on JJ’s ass that comes from the faucet.
Lining it up is a nightmare. Pope comes up to check on them, and he has to walk away when he realizes how nonchalant they are about the seams matching. He covers his eyes and runs down the stairs calling after Sarah. They can hear her laugh from the kitchen, and John B doesn’t even bother covering the grin that comes across his face.
It takes all day. All day. They break for dinner, and they go back to their wallpaper nightmare immediately after. They hear the TV start a new episode of The Bachelor, and JJ lets out a dramatic groan as he throws the roller across the room. He never thought he’d be jealous about missing out on a reality TV show. The roller lands hard on the tile, earning a chuckle from John B.
“Drama queen.”
“This sucks,” JJ complains, banging his head lightly against the wall. “Remind me who’s idea this was, again?”
“Your little PTSD ridden ass ,” John B quips.
There’s no anger behind it. Nothing more than the causal teasing the two trade back and forth. An onslaught of daddy issues they can’t help but exploit time and time again. JJ mutters touché under his breath as he sticks the final panel to the wall.
It’s not perfect. Some of the edges peel, some of the lines could be straighter. But it’s impressive. For two boys that weren’t taught the first step of making a home, it’s beyond impressive. It’s the first thing Pope says when they show their friends the finished product. They’re all impressed, really. It looks like a completely new room. The sailboat wallpaper is sweet, and it matches the rest of the house. It’s them .
They watch an embarrassing amount of The Bachelor, and JJ falls asleep on the couch again. There’s no wine coursing through his veins— just the feeling of being surrounded by his friends. He feels safe. Comfortable. Warm.
Kiara wakes him up around midnight. The living room is empty now, everyone else now retired to their own rooms. Kiara tugs at his arm gently, asks him to come to bed. And he does, surprisingly.
He follows her up the stairs. They brush their teeth side by side, admiring their new and improved bathroom. Kiara points out a crinkle in the paper, and JJ pokes her side. He grins through a foamy mouth, and she laughs as she tries to get him back.
He falls asleep next to her. He wakes up next to her, too. In his bed. The bed he’s been so scared of. He smells coffee being made downstairs. He hears Cleo and Sarah laughing about something he can’t quite make out, but it doesn’t even matter. It makes him smile anyways.
Kiara wakes up not long after. She stirs gently, presses herself up slowly. She kisses his neck and his cheek and the corner of his mouth. He complains about having morning breath, but she says she doesn’t care. She kisses him anyways. It feels good. JJ never thought things could feel this good. It’s like nothing can ruin the high he feels from being so close to his family.
He’s wrong, though. He feels like he’s always being proven wrong these days.
John B is helping Sarah in the kitchen when he hears it. JJ’s voice, raised and shaken. He gives Sarah a quick glance before pushing out of his chair and bolting towards the door.
“I don’t want it,” JJ’s voice travels through the window. John B feels his heart pound in his chest.
“Son, your dad isn’t—“
The voice is on the tip of John B’s tongue. It’s so familiar, like he can almost pinpoint it. But JJ is cutting in before he gets the chance to make it out.
“Ok, don’t call me that,” JJ says, and John B throws the door open just in time to see JJ’s hand push into Shoupe’s chest. “Look, you can keep it. You can scrap it. You can drive it into the fucking ocean for all I care. I just don’t want it on our fucking—“
“Woah, buddy,” John B stops him quickly, throwing an arm around JJ’s shoulders. “Easy tiger. What can we do for ya, Shoupe?”
“Luke Maybanks' truck has been at the impound lot for weeks,” Shoupe says, seemingly unfazed by JJ’s outburst. “Decided it’d be best just to bring it back, since it seems like he won’t be picking it up anytime soon.”
“Do we have to?”
He says it for JJ’s sake, more than anything else. In all honesty, it’d be nice to have an extra set of wheels. But he knows JJ hates it. He hates that truck with every ounce of his being. John B can’t even imagine the things that happened within the doors. The amount of JJ’s blood splattered in the passenger seat.
“It’s part of your land deed. Came with the house,” Shoupe says. “Technically, you own it.”
“Can’t we just crush the piece of shit and be done with it?” JJ mutters, suddenly small under John B’s touch. He leans into John B’s side, welcomes the arm draped over his shoulder like a security blanket.
“I drove it all the way out here, kid,” Shoupe sighs. If he wasn’t so exhausted, maybe he’d budge. “Besides, you kids could probably use it.”
It’s the end of the conversation. JJ is done talking, just stands stiff against John B with his lips pressed tightly together. John B tells Shoupe they’ll take care of it. He even thanks him for his trouble. Shoupe holds out the keys to JJ, and John B is surprised when he takes them. He's reluctant, but he lets Shoupe drop them into his palm, and the boys watch Shoupe drive away.
His police cruiser is barely out of sight when JJ moves. He’s quick to pull from John B’s touch, stumbling into the house like it’s urgent. His hands are still gripping the keys when John B finds him doubled over in the bathroom, sweat dotting his forehead as the nausea takes over. John B squats beside him, brushing the hair away from his eyes like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He promises JJ that it’ll be alright, but JJ has a hard time believing him as he spirals into the worst panic attack John B has seen him have in years.
His chest is heaving, and his body is numb. He can feel John B’s hands on him, but he can’t at the same time. The same way he can hear his voice, but he can’t make out the words. He thinks it’ll never pass. He thinks he’ll melt into the tiled floor of the bathroom and never rise again.
He doesn’t sleep in his room that night. He doesn’t sleep on the porch, either. He tries, but quickly realizes his sacred spot has a front row view of his dads truck. Instead, he curls up on the bench of the HMS Pogue and lets the waves rock him to sleep while he waits for the sun to rise.
Around midnight when JJ still hasn’t come to bed, Kiara goes looking. She thinks she’ll find him or the porch, but she doesn’t. Instead, she just finds Luke’s truck. John B filled her in on the details, but JJ didn’t feel like talking about the rest. He just pocketed the keys and busied himself with home repairs. He didn’t eat dinner, and he didn’t make a single joke during their nightly watch of The Bachelor. She falls asleep on the porch without him.
It's not the most restful sleep for either of them. Kiara wakes with a crick in her neck, and JJ doesn’t sleep at all. Despite the exhaustion, he still thinks it’s better than the nightmares that would’ve hit if he slept anywhere else. Sarah tells him he looks like a feral raccoon when he tries to sneak inside. He was hoping everyone would still be asleep, but he isn’t so lucky. Sarah is sitting on the couch, sipping a cup of coffee.
He rolls his eyes at the comment, but he doesn’t disagree. She pats the spot next to her, and he takes it. She turns on the TV, and they watch an episode of The Bachelor without saying a word. They make it to a second, and the house is still quiet.
“That’s a nice truck in the yard,” she finally says.
“It’s a piece of shit,” he rolls his eyes, the words cold and tired.
“Yeah, I wasn’t gonna say it, but….” she has a playful smile on her lips, one that JJ reciprocates. He wonders, then, if it’s what having a sister feels like. He wonders if she misses Rafe. If she’s ever known brotherly love, if she’ll ever get it back. He doesn’t know that she sees it in him— that she’s just waiting for the right moment to bring it up. “What are you gonna do about it?”
He shrugs, but all his attention is on the TV. They’ve made it to the final four, and they’re meeting the parents. The guy is taken around different hometowns. They’re currently in Maryland.
“I dunno,” he bites at his lip. “If it were up to me, we’d just smash the thing into a million pieces and be done with it.”
“It is up to you,” she says without hesitation. It’s soft, and she studies him for a moment. Eyebrows drawn in. Cheeks rosey. Hair sticking in every direction. His eyes are locked on the TV, still. “If you want to take a hammer to the windows, just say the word.”
That gets his attention. She’s smiling. They’re sitting side by side, shoulders pressed together. She reaches over to take his hand. He lets her, and he thinks about what it means to have a sister.
“I wanna take a hammer to the windows.”
It’s how the rest of the group finds them at a crisp 7am. John B comes out first, sleep still covering him in a fog as he yells, “What the fuck is goin’ on out here?”
It’s a sight to see. Sarah's holding a hammer out to JJ, and she’s covered head to toe. A sweatshirt and sweatpants on, a pair of rain boots covering her feet. She even has clear glasses to protect her eyes. John B knows that JJ probably insisted on it. If she was going to go through with some potentially dangerous idea of his, he’d make sure she didn’t get a scratch on her body.
JJ is a different story. A pair of swim trunks is the only thing he wears. He’s barefoot, bare chested and his hair is just as wild as it is when he’s anxiously running his fingers through it. Sarah holds up the hammer. John B raises his eyebrows, looking at JJ before breaking into a grin. He bounces down the steps, Kiara, Pope and Cleo not far behind him. They’re cheering him on. They’re so supportive, and loud, and ready for JJ to smash the shit out of the truck.
Still, JJ hesitates. He glances at John B, then back to the truck.
“This is a perfectly good car,” he shakes his head, but the hammer is still gripped tightly in his hands. “We’d be stupid to wreck it, right?”
“Perfectly good doesn’t mean anything if it makes you wanna die,” John B says bluntly. Kiara’s eyes widen, like she’s worried his words will send JJ into another spiral. But JJ just bites at his lip and raises an eyebrow, almost as if to say good point .
He looks at the hammer like he’s still weighing the options. “We can sell it for parts?”
“Yeah, we can sell it for parts,” John B shrugs. He’s so nonchalant about it. So unwavering, that it makes the rest of them understand why they gravitate towards him. He can rationalize and comfort all in one breath. Steady and patient, even when it feels like the world is crumbling. “Or use what we need to fix up the Twinkie. Sell the rest. Honestly, it’s already a piece of shit. Who cares if it’s a little busted?”
“Good point,” JJ says with a nod, and his decision is solidified when his hammer comes crashing into the passenger window. Glass flies everywhere. The sound is crisp and satisfying, and JJ is smiling so wide his cheeks hurt.
John B shouts atta boy so loudly that birds fly out of the oak tree, and the rest of them clap and shout with pride. They take turns smashing the truck, breaking the glass and denting the metal with shovels and wrenches. It’s liberating and dramatic and it’s everything that JJ needs. He smiles at Sarah, and she’s laughing when he hugs her shoulders. It’s better than any thank you he could ever give her.
There’s glass in the grass, and the sun shines onto the rusted metal of the truck by late morning. Kiara and JJ walk through the garden, admiring the plants that have already begun taking root. JJ tells Kie about the panic attacks. About the ones he got as a kid, and about the ones that sometimes happen now. It’s new to her. It’s not shocking, but it’s new, and she feels the weight it has on him. She tells him that she loves him, and that nothing could ever change it. He tells her how lucky he is to have her.
They take the boat out. Just the two of them. They watch the sunset over the water, and when they get home John B greets them on the porch. He dramatically covers JJ’s eyes with his hands as Sarah ushers them inside, and Kiara can’t contain her laughter as JJ blindly trusts John B not to run him into a wall. It’s even funnier when they actually do hit a wall, and JJ still doesn’t open his eyes. Pope and Kiara are clutching their stomachs, gasping for air. They stop in the living room, though, and John B drops his hands as Cleo yells ta-dah!
JJ opens his eyes, and he sees it. There’s a colorful rug underneath the coffee table, covering the dents and notches in the hardwood. John B has a grin on his face, one that tugs at JJ’s heart. He looks so proud. It’s just a rug, but JJ throws his arms around John B like he’s just proclaimed his love. Sarah hugs the two of them, and Cleo latches onto the other side. Kiara and Pope join, and JJ feels like he can’t breathe in the best way possible.
They sit on the new rug and watch TV and eat raman noodles for supper. The season finale is better than any one of them imagined. There’s a running bet on who the winner will be, and they’re all wrong when The Bachelor runs off with the girl he sent home four episodes ago. John B can’t believe it, and even Kiara and Sarah are shocked. Cleo wants to watch another season, and Pope is confused by the rules of the game.
JJ still doesn’t care. He’s watching them argue over who was closest to being right, and laughing at the end of season blooper reel. He bites his lip again, like the pain will shake him awake if this is all a dream. It feels like it is, being comfortable and warm and surrounded by people who love him regardless of the things he hates most. His past and his scars and his fears. He doesn’t wake up, though, and he thanks the God he doesn’t know if he believes in.
He sleeps in his bed. Kiara by his side, pressed against his chest. They sleep with the window open and the door cracked, just so he doesn’t feel trapped. They talk and talk, about everything and nothing in the comfort of the dark. The only light coming from the moon and the stars outside. They talk about growing up together, and the first time they met. They talk about what JJ remembers about his mom, and he asks about Kiara’s grandfather that she never got to meet. They talk about the year they spent apart, that dreaded freshman year. They talk about the adventures they’ve had together, and the things they never thought they’d say out loud.
Kiara traces the scar that runs across JJ’s hip, and she asks where he got it from. He does the same with one on her elbow, and she laughs when he reminds him he was there. It makes that look of guilt flash across his face when he remembers his failure to protect her, but she kisses his lips and tells him it wasn’t his fault.
They fall asleep sometime between the twentieth I love you and the birds chirping outside. When JJ wakes up, he doesn’t wonder where he is. He doesn’t wonder when he is. He feels Kiara in his arms, and feels her breath against his cheek, and it doesn’t matter. He could be anywhere, as long as she’s beside him.
They tackle different things each day. They’re nowhere near done with the house, but they know they have time. They get a spice rack for the kitchen, and they clean up the porch. John B and JJ salvage what they can from the truck, and they sell the rest for cash at the old auto shop in town. Heyward helps fix the dock and pick out a boat. Kiara and Sarah and Cleo harvest their first batch of vegetables. They put together their strengths, and they start a business and they make a living.
JJ spends some nights on the porch. Some on the couch, or the rug he loves so much. Occasionally he’ll find himself in John B’s bed, when the nightmares shake him awake. John B never turns him away, and Sarah never teases him when she wakes up to another body in their bed. There’s a time or two where they all pile onto the king-sized master bedroom bed, all six teenagers acting like they’re ten again. Most nights, though, JJ sleeps in his room. With the girl he loves. And everything is okay.