Chapter Text
JJ has one hand on the rope.
It would be so easy to let go, to fall into the black abyss of nothingness below, to finally be free of the pain. It’s so tempting. He’s suffered so much. He’s lost so many times. How could he not just want it to all end?
JJ Maybank has skirted death so many times. He’s like a cockroach that just keeps on evading his evitable fate, because yeah, JJ was always going to die eventually. He’s been lucky, extremely lucky. He should’ve died a long time ago: on the overpass, on Poguelandia, and definitely beside the Coastal Venture.
But he didn’t die then.
Because of Kie.
He can hear her words now. He can hear her promise of a surf trip. He can hear her promise of a future, of a dream that can come true . Is he really wanting to lose that? Is he ready to lose all that time he still has left with her? To not go on anymore dates or escapades or explore the world together? Does he actually want that?
JJ drifts into a memory.
JJ stands from the beach blanket which just adds to Kie’s taken-aback expression even more. She intently watches him with furrowed eyebrows as he carefully avoids knocking over any candles and steps up towards the shrubbery behind the beautiful date set-up. JJ pulls out the hidden guitar from under a blanket and drags over a small log before sitting on it in front of her.
He momentarily runs his hand through his blond hair to compose himself before pulling a pick from his pocket. JJ rests the body of the instrument on his right thigh and holds the guitar’s neck with his left hand. He practices a few times and accidentally holds and hits the wrong strings on a few occasions. After a minute or so JJ exhales but doesn’t look at Kie or he’ll become so unbelievably anxious that he won’t be able to function. Like fuck, he barely knows what he’s even doing.
JJ does a quick breathing exercise that Kie taught him to channel his inner calm before he begins to gently strum the strings with this concentrated expression, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth, his eyebrows furrowed in intense focus. He plays the rhythm of Is This Love by Bob Marley; he has only been able to learn the chorus. Either way, JJ knows Kie loves this song.
Kie recognises the song immediately and gently hums along, allowing the serenity of the music to wash over her like the nearby waves. She closes her eyes and sways in time.
JJ plays the chorus a few times, each round becoming more fluent and losing hesitation or any stuttering. His shoulders become less tense and by the last chorus he has almost loosened up completely. His scrunched facial features have eased off. Soon the guitar silences and is replaced fully by the ocean beside the pair.
The Maybank boy looks up to meet Kiara’s doe eyes, hoping that she enjoyed it. When he sees that golden smile expanding across her lips, JJ knows he succeeded in what he was aiming for.
“When did you learn how to play guitar?” Kie’s words are threaded with admiration and pride, her eyes bright and glowing with pure emotion.
JJ is a little sheepish. A blush grows on his cheeks. “I got Ricky to teach me.”
“So that’s why you’ve been disappearing?” She asks with a sort of thickness edging her voice.
"Correcta-mundo." The blond-haired boy makes an A-okay sign and props the guitar up against the log before standing. He’s then instantly tackled by tanned arms that fully curl around his neck. His hands naturally fall to Kie’s hips, steadying her against him. He takes in the scent of her shampoo and the security of the hug.
Kie grips the nape of JJ’s neck in a meaningful hold and pulls him in for a heartfelt kiss, leaning up on her toes. He’s caught off guard for the splittest moment before melting into the feeling of her lips capturing his, soft and affectionate, his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer. He knows it’s a kiss of true gratitude for tonight and how much it truly means to her that he went out of his way to prepare and put this all together.
“I love you, JJ,” Kie says breathlessly when she pulls back, forehead hovering in front of his, her eyes shining with tender emotion.
JJ is lost in her golden-flecked eyes. They’re the key to the treasure chest of gold which is worth more than any of the El Dorado gold. Her heart is the treasure he’s found.
But JJ isn’t lost in his next words. They’re as real as the day is long.
“I love you too, Kie,” he tells her with no hesitation and cherishes the walls of her warm arms around him and her kind hands running through the tips of his hair.
The hand on the rope slips slightly and JJ panics, holding on tighter.
Another memory hits him.
Kie collides with JJ and he jolts back at the impact but he doesn’t give two fucking shits. He instantly holds her as humanely close to him as possible. He secures his arms around her upper and lower back and doesn’t fucking dare to let go. They rock side to side. There is no space between their bodies; she fits into the mould of his arms perfectly – like the key to his lock. It’s as if she belongs there – which she always has.
The Maybank boy stuffs his face into her shoulder, his features scrunching. He wants to cry at the feeling of her safely tucked against him. He wants to scream his joy. He wants to yell his thanks to whoever is up above for bringing Kie back to him.
Kie. Kie. Kie. She’s here. She’s here. She’s here, he repeats in his head.
She smells like coconut and vanilla. Her soft curls tickle his nose. Her skin is warm and calming against his. She’s safe, and she’s protected because he’s got her.
“I’m so glad you're safe,” his grateful words are muffled against her tanned shoulder.
JJ’s grip on the thin rope falters again. He launches up to grab it with his other red-stained hand. There’s blood running down his leg under his soaked clothes. He squeezes his eyes shut through the agonising pain as he dangles precariously above the endless pit of black nothing.
Kie wears a broad smile as she stands and turns to JJ, gesturing her pointer finger towards herself.
JJ raises an eyebrow in confusion until he catches on to what she’s hinting at. He doesn’t move. “I have polio, Kie. I can’t walk.”
Kie rolls her eyes. “Sure you do.”
The girl grabs his wrist and hauls him to his feet effortlessly. She changes her hold and takes his right hand in hers and draws him close, placing her other hand on his bicep. JJ’s heart hammers at this as he splays his palm on her upper back. They begin to dance slowly, comfortable, as the rain falls in a white sheet around them.
JJ’s blond hair has darkened whilst pointed, wet strands are stuck to his forehead and temples. His cheeks are glossy but his eyes are lively, the blue vibrant. His warm fingers are against the skin of her back, his touch benign and meaningful. Kie looks so goddamn attractive, his heart is seriously beating out of his chest because of it. JJ just wants to be near her, intimately, physically, in any possible way.
Their feet move in sync.
Kie quirks a smile. “Where’d you learn how to dance?”
“With all my other girls.” JJ winks. “All part of the charm.”
The girl raises an eyebrow. “So I’m just another one of those ‘other girls’?”
“You think you are?” JJ asks instantly with some seriousness. Kie could never be one of those other girls. She is too good for that.
“You’re the only one who can answer that question,” Kie responds, holding a steady expression.
JJ’s eyes flicker between her eyes, the gold within them flaming emotively. He could easily back out and dip – but he doesn’t. He stays. He needs to stay. He needs this moment with her. He needs to say the next words.
“No, you’re not.”
The liar has become the truth-teller.
Kie is locked in thought for a moment before the words spill from her lips. “Then what am I?”
JJ doesn’t feel blindsided by the question. He doesn’t avert his gaze because of the inner vulnerability he’s feeling, instead his gaze is steadfast even as he blinks through the torrential Caribbean rain.
The Maybank boy recalls the time when Heyward’s truck was fucked up on the way to Charleston and JJ asked Kie if she was alright. “Ain’t all that bad,” he had said to her. Because it wasn’t. It isn’t. Kie is amazing in every way, shape or form. Like fuck, he’s lucky to even walk on the ground she walks on.
“Tell Kiara she looks pretty hot for a Pogue,” Rafe had taunted at Midsummers. The fury that surged through JJ was extreme. How dare he objectify Kie in such a way?! ‘Cause yeah, obviously JJ thought she was hot but he wouldn’t ever put it the way Rafe did. And his comment years before about how her mouth would sound in bed, that played in the back of JJ’s mind and further added to his rageful reaction.
JJ does confess that he was in awe when he saw Kie in that lavender dress at Midsummers. He didn’t remove his gaze from her and he’s still surprised that he didn’t trip as he was guided away by the security guy. He could only imagine how gorgeous she would look in a silky, red dress. Hot damn.
As the rain is a blurred sound in his ears, JJ has a fleeting thought.
He wants to kiss Kie. He knows he shouldn’t want that but he does.
He fights the impulse to look down at her lips. He fights the urge to lean forward. He can’t… he can’t risk it but it’s so hard. He wants to kiss her so bad.
“You can’t succeed if you don’t try.”
Shut up, Cleo!
JJ’s main thing is that he doesn’t want to lose Kie because he isn’t good enough – because he’s a loser. But he also doesn’t want to lose his friendship with Pope. He knows how into Kie Pope was, hell, JJ even gave him ideas like lighting some candles or putting on some Odis Redding or playing guitar. To kiss her would disrespect Pope and he doesn’t want that.
Yet she’s right there. His hand flat against her back, her hand holding his bicep, the rain cascading down from the grey clouds above. Both their hands are secured and locked, held up at the side, their chests relatively close as they sway and spin, kicking the soaked sand at their bare feet. The wind whistles in their ears, the loud roar from the waterfall blurring into the thunderous gush. Both their bodies are warm whilst the cooler rain adds a sheen to their skin. All JJ would have to do is pull her into him and press his lips to hers.
But no.
The Pogues are all he has left. They’re it.
Kiara’s it.
He can’t afford to lose that. To lose her.
He’s at war with what he wants and what he can’t lose.
Despite the battle in his head, JJ’s words are fond, his look even fonder as they continue to dance in the downpour.
“You’re Kiara Carrera. One of the best surfers I know – not better than me though,” he adds and the girl laughs. “You’re absolutely badass, especially when you broke Rafe’s nose. And when you set the cinema sheet on fire. And that time you tried to attack Ward after court. And I guess when you did that aerial when we were younger.”
Kie squeezes his hand in thanks. She seems to be fighting shyness. He is having the same struggle as he fights an accomplished grin.
JJ lifts their interlocked hands and twirls her around, the rain splattering against them. As she almost completes the spin, the sand shifts beneath Kie’s feet and she stumbles into him.
“Who’s a klutz now?” JJ smirks down at her but his breathing definitely hitches at the closer proximity of their faces.
“Shut up, JJ.” She moves back slightly, mildly shaken. “I’m starting to think you’ll never be able to pull an aerial off.”
Challenge rises in JJ’s expression. “I’ll have you know that I definitely can. Know your place, Carrera – I’m the best surfer in the OBX and on this island.”
Kiara scoffs light-heartedly, her finger tapping his bicep. “If I had money, I’d totally bet that you wouldn’t be able to. I maybe wouldn’t even bet at all ‘cause you haven’t been able to do it for years.”
“You wouldn’t bet on me?”
“Nope,” she pops the ‘P’ and smirks.
JJ tips his chin up with defiance and some childishness. “Yeah, well, you know, I wouldn’t bet on you either.”
“Very mature, Jayj.”
“Always.”
The tears JJ has been pushing back finally start profusely running down his face. He kept it together for Kie as he couldn’t allow her to see him that way. JJ couldn’t allow her to see that he was accepting defeat, that he was ready to give in, that he was in and has been through so much pain that he could barely hold on. It didn’t matter anyway – Kie saw she was about to lose him, she saw that he was struggling to stay with her. It broke his heart to see hers shatter right in front of him.
He is her everything too. He saw that. He knows that.
One final memory greets him. It’s his favourite. It’s when he knew that she was the one.
“I’ve been thinking. When all this is over, and we’re just rolling in the dough, I’m gonna get a new board. I’m gonna deck it out, and I’m gonna go on a surf trip,” JJ’s words distract him from how fucking hot he feels in this godforsaken container.
The thought of going out and exploring the world is so appealing to him. He could go anywhere and ride some tasty waves without a care in the world. He could be away from Luke and the trauma. He could escape the Outer Banks for good. No more societal injustice. No more shitty Kooks. No more loss. He could finally be free.
JJ feels like it’s meant to be.
“I don’t know where, but, like, the world’s calling.” JJ doesn’t know where he’d even start this trip. There are so many options, endless options, but he draws on asking Kie. Maybe there is somewhere that she would like to go… “I don’t know. Name a place.”
“Spain,” Kie’s answer is instantaneous.
“Then after Spain, South America or South Africa,” JJ excitedly reels off.
“You’ll go to South Africa?”
“Or one of the South places. And then Micronesia maybe, and then… and just ride,” he continues, giddy. “Wherever the wave takes you, you know?”
There’s this look on Kie’s face that JJ can’t seem to decipher. “So that’s the plan if we were to get a ton of cash? That’s the dream? Surf trip?”
“Ripping jungle break all day long. Bamboo hut, cooking a fish on a fire and after that, you go back out and just hit the waves again.” The look on JJ’s face is one of pure joy. He’s got it all planned out. This is exactly what he wants.
Kie looks to the side with a smile. “Sounds perfect.”
It is. “Yeah.”
Her next words catch him by surprise. “Got room for one more?”
JJ laughs at this because he’s sure she’s joking, that’s she’s just kidding and isn’t truly that invested in the idea of a surf trip with him. But then he sees the look on her face, the smile that matches his, and it hits him. She’s not joking. She’s not playing with him. She’s serious. She wants this like he does.
His deep-rooted feelings for the girl in front of him bloom even more.
“You got your passport?” He jests, teasing her.
She grins at him and his heart soars. “You don’t have a passport.”
As he says his next words, the brightest and sweetest laugh comes from her lips. The smile she wears is more radiant than the sun. “Hell no, I don’t have a passport. Kookiest thing ever.”
JJ has one last thought before they’re interrupted:
They have the same dream.
JJ hangs on for dear life, literally. The rope is growing slippery beneath his bloody fingers.
The dark abyss seems to be growing darker and hungrier with each passing second. It’s waiting to consume him, to swallow him whole.
JJ is sweating from exertion. His eyes are stinging and his muscles scream. He swears Groff is still twisting the knife into his flesh, carving into his organs and bones like wood. It hurts. It fucking hurts.
JJ has a choice to make.
Below is a promise of peace. He could finally rest, no more treasure hunting, no more shit fathers, no more lies, none of it. He wouldn’t have to run anymore. He wouldn’t have to remember that he was a born-Kook and that so much of his life was a lie. JJ could see his real mother. It would be poetic since Groff would’ve killed them both.
It’s tempting, really tempting. If he just let go it would all be finished. He could be done with it. It would be the end of JJ Maybank’s/Groff’s/Genrette’s story. Throw the pen away and close the book. Done and dusted.
But above is a promise of everything he’s ever wanted in life. Allowing himself to fall would mean leaving behind what he’s always wanted to experience. He has a chance to be the godfather to John B and Sarah’s child, to surf the world alongside Kie, to spend the rest of his life with Kie. And maybe someday down the line before they both run out of time they’ll have a daughter and name her Marley. He’s had a dream or two about that.
JJ thinks about how Kie would have to live without him if he just opened his hands. He thinks about how when she looks over her shoulder he won’t be there, that he won’t have her back anymore. She wouldn’t have him to turn to when the world falls apart. She wouldn’t have his hand to hold or his lips to kiss or his arms to seek refuge within. She would be alone in their bed and alone in what should’ve been their future.
Kie would lose her best friend and her partner. Her JJ.
JJ can’t do that to her. He can’t do that to the Pogues, to his family.
This isn’t it. This isn’t the end. There is more for him to see and do. His story isn’t complete yet. He still needs his happy ending.
JJ has made his choice.
He begins climbing. He has too much to lose.
A cloud of orange dust shoots up from screeching tires, Cleo swerving the car into a stop in front of the Pogues and Rafe. She’s panting, her forehead covered in sweat from the run of her life. Her shoulder is also burning. She managed to get the car closer than before due to some expert off-roading.
John B, Pope and Rafe work together and waste no time laying JJ across the second row of seats. Rafe clears out into the back, allowing Kiara to rush into the car and lean down beside her limp boyfriend. She grabs his hand and watches his chest. It rises and falls shallowly.
Sarah hurries in next to Cleo, scouring through the glovebox for anything but coming up with nothing . John B jumps into the last row with Rafe whilst Pope stays with Kiara, forcefully reapplying pressure to JJ’s wound.
“Hol’ on!” Cleo advises in a shout, slamming her foot onto the accelerator. A second later the vehicle jolts forward so fast that Pope and Kiara almost end up in the third row and John B and Rafe are almost thrown from the car.
The whole group has to hold on tight as Cleo retakes her off-road route. Kiara wants to snap at her for being so careless, especially when JJ is almost flung out of the car, but she keeps her mouth shut. She knows that Cleo is just trying to get JJ to help as soon as possible.
After that almost disaster, John B leans over the seat and curls an arm around one of JJ’s legs, holding him steady. Rafe even helps by pinning JJ down by the shoulder. Sarah also grasps onto the back of Pope’s clothes, preventing him from flying out and onto the ground. Kiara just grips both JJ’s hand and the railing by her head with equal force.
If the situation wasn’t life or death they would’ve been laughing at how chaotic and absurd it is. Rafe helping JJ? Hell has frozen over.
They eventually make it onto the dirt road.
Kiara presses her forehead to the back of JJ’s hand. “Jayj, please. You gotta make it,” she whispers breathily into his skin. She doesn’t want anyone else to hear her. This is between them. “Please.”
He’s barely clinging onto life. His hand is cold compared to her own. He looks like a shadow of his former wild self, his skin ghostly white like the island’s Pogulandia flag. Even the sickening brightness of his blood seems to be growing duller by the second, the gore smeared across the carseats and drying like the withering time he has left. The unsettling chugging from the struggling engine goes at a haunting rhythm of tick tick tick. Kiara’s mouth grows sticky with a sour taste from it.
How did they get here? How did they ever get to this point?
“How far up, Cleo?!” John B shouts stressfully over the whipping wind. Thank god the sandstorm cleared ages ago.
“It was just before the turn-off!” She hollers back, stepping on the gas even more.
It’s tense. The group can do nothing but hope they get to this medical centre in time. Even then, will it have the supplies needed to save JJ’s life? Will it even be open? Will they understand English?
Kiara tries to shut down the whirlwind of questions blustering through her head. JJ just needs to make it until they get there and then they can worry about the details. To distract herself she spins one of JJ’s rings with her thumb and holds two of her fingers to his pulse. It thumps weakly but it’s still going. It’s the only thing keeping her in one piece.
After what feels like an eternity later, Cleo finally whips the vehicle into the gravel car park of the centre.
The first impression is that it's underwhelmingly… small. There isn’t much to it, maybe four hospital rooms at best with a small reception area through the front doors. It’s a stark difference from the last hospital they were at.
“You never said it was this small!” John B yells as he dives out the side of the car, rushing to assist Pope with pulling JJ out. They throw JJ’s arms over their shoulders again and drag him towards the entrance.
“It said medical on it, man!” She shoots back, leaping out of the driver’s seat.
Sarah runs to the door, slamming it open with both hands. “Help! Our friend is dying! He’s been stabbed!”
Kiara races in close behind Sarah. John B, Pope, Cleo and Rafe flood inside right after.
A doctor walks in at the commotion and his eyes immediately widen at the sight before him.
Kiara surges forward with a sudden onset of profuse tears streaming down her face. The numbness has cracked and shattered. “Please! You have to save him!” The only reason she doesn’t collapse to her knees is because of Cleo holding both her shoulders despite her own pain. “Please!”
The doctor takes another glance at JJ who is looking close to a corpse at this point. He’s an unnatural colour and he’s not moving. What if… what if he’s…
Kiara doesn’t finish the thought when the doctor frantically ushers them towards a room. John B and Pope stumble inside first and JJ is practically thrown onto the bed. His head rolls to the side in Kiara’s direction. There is no flush to his cheeks. There is no iconic smirk on his lips. There is no shine to his hair.
The Pogues can only watch as the hijabs and bandages are cut from JJ’s body, peeling off in sticky layers of thick red and brown with a disgusting squelch. They’re discarded onto the ground by Cleo’s feet, Kiara standing beside her.
The blood glistens sickeningly under the fluorescent lights, contrasting against the polished white tiles. Kiara can smell it. She can smell the metal in the stale air. She can taste it.
Her heartbeat pounds in her ears. Bile rises up the back of her throat. Her hands shake. Her vision becomes shallow and blurred. Her lungs tighten with the urge to scream. She wills for this to be a dream, that once she wakes up this nightmare will be over and she’ll no longer be paralysed, forced to watch the life ebb away from her boyfriend. But when she opens her eyes again JJ is still there on the hospital bed. It isn’t some horror scene conjured up by the demons of her head, instead it’s the very reality that is crumbling before her very eyes. She’s been enslaved, condemned to watch the colour continuing to leave JJ’s pasty skin.
There is nothing she can do. She can’t set a cinema sheet alight, she can’t keep his head above the waves, she can’t catch him with a dinghy. Kiara can only watch. She can only hope he’ll open his eyes with a response of “sup”, and that she can hold his head to her chest.
A nurse rushes in with bottles of disinfectant and stitching supplies, having to squeeze her way through the Pogues to get into the cramped room. She then reels off rushed Arabic at the group with a shooing motion.
Kiara doesn’t move.
She tenses when Sarah reaches to guide her away. In her current high-strung state she’ll physically lash out if anyone touches her with the aim to move her away. Her mind and muscles are wired to fight. She’s staying and no force in the world could get her to leave this room. The only ones who leave are Rafe, Cleo and Sarah under the weak encouragement from Pope.
The doctor douses JJ’s oozing wound with almost a full bottle of antiseptic, talking quickly with the nurse in foreign tongue. She cuts a slit down the middle of JJ’s clothes and connects him to an old monitor. His heart rate reading flashes onto the screen. It’s slow but he’s hanging on. Barely.
A memory from Poguelandia sideswipes Kiara as she watches the physician frantically disinfect JJ. It causes the bile to become a more prominent taste in her mouth.
Despite the Pogues managing to somehow walk away from the incident with minor injuries, JJ’s temple has started to bleed again and quite heavily. There’s a thick trickle of blood that trails from his hairline, down his left cheek and curls under the sharp curve of his jawline. He doesn’t seem to care since he’s too absorbed by the taste of his hard-earned fruit. But Kiara doesn’t like how he’s leaving it unattended so she takes matters into her own hands.
Kiara gains some confused looks as she scoops up the dry and bloody rag, which she actually realises it’s his bandana, from a rock beside the fire. Her curls bounce as she walks to the water and scrubs thoroughly at the material. When she’s satisfied it’s clean enough, she squeezes the excess water out and approaches the group again without a word. She sits right beside JJ.
The blond quirks an eyebrow suggestively and a charismatic smile grows on his lips. “If you wanted to sit so close to me, you could’ve just said s–” Without warning, she presses the salted rag to JJ’s head. “What the fuck, Kie?!”
JJ attempts to squirm away from her with a whine but she’s persistent and steadfast. She has an iron-grip on his wrist so he’s not going anywhere no matter how much he tries to weasel a way out of this. “You have no self-preservation,” she grumbles.
But there are no whines or complaints from JJ this time. It’s too quiet.
Kiara stressfully fiddles with the friendship bracelet around her wrist. It’s speckled with dried blood. John B and Pope are frozen in place beside her.
“Come on brother, you gotta make it,” she hears John B plead under his breath. “I can’t lose you too.”
Pope clasps John B’s shoulder with his hand, fighting back his own tears.
It all started with the four of them. The Pogues came to be because of a couple of kids with a hunger for adventure and chaos, a group that sought a taste for thrill, fun and surf. Before diving headlong into the treasure hunt, one Summer they had a simple mission and it was to have a good time, all the time. John B was the leader, Pope was the brains, Kiara was the voice of reason and JJ is the glue – because without him they would come unstuck, without him they would lose the beating heart of the Pogues.
John B, JJ, Kiara and Pope. That was them. That was their crew. But they aren’t the Pogues without JJ. He needs to pull through. He still has dopp-kits to steal, heists to pull off and waves to surf. His adventure isn’t over yet. It isn’t his time. It can’t be.
There is a sad unity between the three Pogues as they watch their best friend motionless on the bed. There have been some close calls with JJ in the past but this is all too surreal. He’s too still, too unlively. It’s not where they ever expected to be. They never expected one of their own to be on a date with death when they have their whole lives in front of them. But time is against him and his body is fighting a war it’s unlikely to win.
The doctor and the nurse converse in a rushed manner before the nurse hastes out of the room. The doctor begins stitching JJ up. None of the equipment looks necessarily sanitary but the thought is promptly disregarded.
Kiara feels her vision tunnelling. Her head is starting to hammer, Sarah’s hijab squeezing her skull. The bloody slice lining her temple pulsates angrily. She tears off the item of clothing and throws it into the scarlett pile of other hijabs and bandages on the floor. The potent metallic scent from it is making her grow dizzy.
John B and Pope are stricken. Their eyes are glued to the squiggly line on the screen. They hold onto their breaths, praying it doesn’t flatline.
The nurse comes back with a grim expression. She avoids eye contact with the trio. There’s hushed words shared between the two medical practitioners. None of the Pogues may be able to understand what they’re saying but the bleak tone they speak in and the worrisome looks on their faces are telling.
“What’s wrong?” Kiara presses shakily, stepping forward with desperation. She’s on the verge of a full blown breakdown, one where the seas will shake and the world’s axis will crumble.
The doctor cringes. “Blood. Blood no have.”
There’s suffocating silence.
“They don’t have any blood for him,” John B realises to himself in disbelief. Then he’s about to start shouting but Pope beats him.
“How do you not have any blood?!” Pope yells, throwing his arms out angrily, tears shaken loose from the outburst. The nurse tries to calm him down but to no avail. Cleo and Sarah rush in.
Whilst the boys argue and the other girls try to settle the situation, Kiara stumbles backwards into a wall, gasping on broken breaths. Her fingers grasp onto the corner, turning white instantly. It doesn’t work to ground her, only JJ could do that. She convulses with uncontrollable tears. Her head rests against the plaster. With sobs wracking every part of her body, she slides down the wall before hitting the floor with a gut-wrenching scream.
She doesn’t even notice that the arguing has stopped upon her earth-shattering cry.
No no no! This cannot be happening! She cannot be losing her JJ!
Kiara’s world is falling apart. It’s tearing apart at the seams, ripping in two. It’s meant to be them against the world, not one of them forced to face it alone. JJ might not quite be dead but the chance to save him was just false hope. They can’t save him if they don’t have blood to give him. That’s a fate he cannot survive this time.
All there is left to do is to bargain and to beg.
Kiara drags herself from the floor and sprints over to her limp boyfriend, stumbling over her feet. She stands over him. She clutches his cut clothes. She shakes him hysterically. Her tears mix with his blood.
“JJ, please! You have to wake up! I told you not to do this ever again! Please! You can’t do this! I need my best friend! I need you! JAYJ!” She throws her head skyward. “JJ!”
She’s gasping for air. She’s begging for his life and for him to stay with her. There are no Pogues without JJ. And there is no Kiara without JJ either. How is she supposed to move past this? How can she survive if JJ is the embodiment of why you should live? Through the countless hardships he always found ways to live life to the fullest, to make stupid decisions that have good outcomes all the time and persevere through the prejudice.
JJ is the epitome of ride or die, the epitome of adventure and loyalty and devotion – Kiara can’t lose that. She can’t lose her other half.
A part of Kiara knows that she will become someone she isn’t if she loses him. She would become revenge-hungry, cold and hellbent on retribution no matter the cost. She would’ve lost her everything so there would be nothing for her to lose once again. It would be a time where the world would burn and she would be the one holding the lighter .
The small room echoes loudly with cries of denial, painful sobs and sharp sniffles.
John B pulls at his locks, crying into Sarah’s arms.
He’s been in one of those beds before, back when Topper pushed him from the Hawk’s Nest. He merely suffered a broken wrist and a concussion but his injuries and his state were nowhere near as dire as JJ’s. All he needed was some rest, painkillers and an IV drip but he didn’t need any blood to save his life.
Then it hits him so violently that he almost gets whiplash.
The tears stall for a moment. Blood…
He darts around to face the doctor, rushing forward.
“Me.” John B repetitively jabs his chest, then the crook of his elbow and then points at JJ. “Give blood.”
“Are you even the same blood type?” Pope croaks out weakly from Cleo’s uninjured shoulder.
There’s a spark of hope in John B’s thick voice. “Before Luke became an asshole he gave my dad JJ’s emergency medical details. Blood type was one of them. We’re the same.”
“Same?” The nurse questions in broken English. The Pogue nods frantically. She instantly ushers him towards the bed.
Kiara finally looks over, glossy streaks marking her face. She meets John B’s emotional gaze as he stands before her. She doesn’t want to have hope, she can’t be led on like that, she wouldn’t be able to take it.
Her best friend sends her a soft smile and gently holds the side of Kiara’s head with brotherly affection and reassurance. “It’s gonna be alright.”
All the girl can do is squeeze her eyes shut and try to believe his words.
The doctor and nurse hurry around to prepare JJ and John B for the transfusion, the latter moved into a chair on the side of JJ’s injury.
Needles are inserted, tubes are attached and soon there’s a red river running between the two brothers.
The process is seamless but the waiting game is excruciating. Seconds become hours and minutes become what feels like decades. They’re sweating on if John B’s blood is enough to get JJ out of limbo. Even if they take the maximum safe amount from John B there is no guarantee it would be enough to save JJ.
JJ’s heart rate has remained steady the whole time but there is a universal fear that it’ll drop so drastically there would be no recovery.
Eventually John B is led out of the room to lie down despite his arguments, Sarah following behind. Cleo guides Pope into the waiting room, his face void of emotion as he stares at JJ.
The nurse pulls over a chair for Kiara, offering a sad smile. Kiara doesn’t have the energy to return it but does manage to weakly shake her head no when her cheek and cut are offered to be cleaned. The laceration probably should be disinfected but Kiara doesn’t give a shit about it right now.
Once Kiara is alone in the room she collapses onto the chair, her legs failing her. She’s beyond dehydrated, lightheaded and falling apart. Her hand also thrums from her hard hit on Groff. She doesn’t regret it though. That asshole would’ve kept twisting his knife into JJ’s stomach if she didn’t step in.
At least if… at least if JJ doesn’t make it she saved him from more pain… he’s already been through so much already.
Kiara almost gags up vomit when she sees the splatter of JJ’s blood on her clothes and the deep crimson crusting over her hands. It’s rooted under her nails and painted into the wrinkles of her fingers. She averts her attention but the image is still poisoning her head.
There’s something sickening about waiting when someone’s life is balancing on a tightrope. You never know if they’re going to make it to the other side or simply slip and fall. Each second waiting to know if they’ll cheat death or not is as excruciating as the next. There is nothing you can do. You can’t hold their tightrope steady, you can’t climb out and catch their hand if they lose balance – you just can’t do anything. You’re stuck on the edge of the cliff hoping they’ll reach you in time, hoping that the rope isn’t cut by an unprecedented complication. You wonder if they’ll ever return to your arms again or if they'll perish within reach. It’s debilitating being under the curse of time and helplessness.
Kiara isn’t sure how long she’s remained by JJ’s side. She’s been in a stupor as silent tears streamed down her dirty cheeks. She was mildly aware of both the nurse and doctor coming in and out of the room as well as some of the Pogues. She didn’t react in any way to them, her mind elsewhere.
The room has been relatively quiet minus the steady beeping from the heart monitor. She hasn’t said a thing since shaking him and begging that she needs him. But finally two fractured words, simple and shattered, leave her lips as she quietly sobs into JJ’s forearm.
“Please, J.”
Kiara holds his arm tight in both her hands. Her forehead lies against the matching friendship bracelet, a piece of her that will always hold him close if she won’t be able to anymore. She closes her eyes with a trembling exhale. Her voice sounds so broken. She feels broken.
“You know I don’t like seeing you cry, Kie.”
The girl has heard those words in a memory before. JJ had said something similar to her back on the deserted island in that silky, soft voice of his. It's some sick joke that she can hear it in her head now, the memory playing out.
“You’re not going to cry on me again, are you?” He jokes, referring to the first night on the island where she broke down. She blamed herself for him getting hit by the machete.
Kiara’s response is light. “That depends.”
“I hope not. I don’t like seeing you cry,” JJ mumbles the last part to himself whilst looking downward.
Kiara hears it though and her whole expression softens.
Her natural, heartfelt response was that she doesn’t like seeing him cry either, the hot tub moment clear on her mind. Of course JJ defaulted to a joke about her thinking he’s an ugly crier and that he thought she thought he was good looking no matter what. The memory of the conversation makes her cry even more, as if she hasn’t cried enough already.
Kiara doesn’t realise the beeping from the monitor has picked up.
“Geez, Kie,” there’s a grated groan. “I just said I don’t like seeing you cry.”
That’s when she freezes. Her sobs hit a deadend. That wasn’t said in the memory, she knows it wasn’t.
Her eyes rise from the darkness.
And meet the light. Her light.
JJ Maybank.
The dam breaks again.
“Oh Kie.” His groggy voice is strained with thick emotion, his head angled towards her.
His fingers twitch to hold her hand but the drugs they must’ve given him are still working in his system. So she slips her hand into his, clinging on like he’s the bridge between her composed happiness and her hysteria.
Waking up was weird for JJ. All his senses felt muffled like he was underwater, like there was a connection delay between his mind and his body. He tried to move his limbs but he was met with static. Eventually little things slowly came clearer to him. First it was sound: Kie’s sniffles and sobs. Second it was touch: the undoubtable pull of stitches at his side. Third was taste: a putrid acidic flavour coating his dry tongue. Fourth was smell: a strong antiseptic scent. And finally it was sight: highlighted curls hiding the crying face of his girlfriend as she clutched onto his arm.
JJ truly feels like he’s been hit by Mike’s truck and Pope was the one driving it. He’s sweating profusely and his brain is ringing. It honestly sounds like someone is playing pinball inside his head. It’s as if he’s high, hungover and has the bends. JJ also swears he can feel rope burn on his hands from the climb of his life, literally. He knows he didn’t physically make the climb but mentally it was real and took all of his withering energy to reach the top. His muscles scream and burn. He doesn’t know if they’re actually shaking or if he's just imagining it.
It was all worth it to see those earthy eyes again though. The reward from the climb was worth way more than the peace from the fall.
“Hi,” Kie whimpers out, gasping for a breath.
“Sup.” JJ offers a weak smile through the waning anaesthesia. He can tell she’s fighting the overpowering will to embrace him. She doesn’t want to push it because of his condition. “Come on, I know you want to touch me.” There’s a pause and a weak, suggestive smirk. “I want you to touch me.”
Kiara scoffs a breathy laugh through the tears. Trust JJ to make a joke after having almost died. But she listens to him anyway and wraps her arms around his head, exactly like she did in that grey dinghy beside the Coastal Venture.
JJ sighs out, grateful. He holds his head up under her chin, listening to her fast heartbeat. It dulls the aching pain coursing through his entire body.
As he lies his head against Kie’s chest, her arms cocooning him, he realises that he’s at peace. This is the only place he’s meant to be.
The two remain that way for a while. Physical touch has always been what they fall back on, even when they were kids. Actions speak a thousand words after all. They were so close to losing one another again. There’s been too many times and this was the closest. The embrace expresses the gratitude, the relief and everything in between. There’s nowhere they’d rather be than holding each other right now.
Eventually they separate, albeit reluctantly.
JJ’s gaze immediately darkens at her hairline. There’s dried blood caking the side of her face. “What did he do to you?”
Despite being in pure agony he remembers that Groff was the reason for it. His girl was hurt and so was he but he couldn’t do anything to help her and he hated that.
It takes a couple of long moments for Kiara to register what he’s referring to, her heightened emotions hindering clarity. Upon remembering, her temple begins to thrum rather violently.
“He wasn’t happy I broke his nose,” she says with bite. That asshole had it fucking coming. She wishes she was able to inflict more damage.
Kiara watches as JJ curses under his breath, the muscle in his jaw ticking furiously. Then he begins looking around for something, anything. She’s confused about what he could possibly be looking for after almost dying. Then he finds his bandana on the table beside him. The nurse must’ve put it there.
JJ isn’t entirely with it. He’s still rather woozy from whatever he’s been given but there is a sort of newfound concentration which has warded it away.
“JJ, what are you–”
“Returning the favour,” JJ cuts Kie off. “You have no self-preservation.”
She scoffs with an eye roll, her head twinging from the action. She really is dehydrated from all the crying. “You’re one to talk.”
Even though JJ almost spills it absolutely everywhere, he pours the cup of water from beside his bed and into his bandana. JJ reaches over with a grimace and begins wiping the dry, flakey blood from her cheek. Even as his abdomen burns for him to stop he doesn’t.
“That can’t be sanitary,” Kie manages through the cringes when he reaches her hairline.
“Didn’t stop you last time,” JJ quips, hinting at the time on Poguelandia where she did the same thing when his machete wound started bleeding again. It’s ironic that both their wounds mirror one another. Oh how the tables have turned. “I took a machete for you and you took a knife for me. How poetic.”
It’s meant as a lighthearted joke but Kiara averts her gaze, biting her lip with shame. “And you took a knife to the gut because I didn’t stay by you.”
The bandana drops from JJ’s grip in disbelief.
What the fuck? Was Kie really blaming herself for something that wasn’t even her fault? That them getting separated, when he was the one that didn’t keep up, was her fault? The parallels from that first day on Poguelandia are uncanny. Besides, none of the shit that happened was anyone’s fault but his own. He sought paternal love so much that he risked everything and made Kie a target. She would’ve never been held at knifepoint if he wasn’t so blind. In the end he walked into the knife because he got lured in. JJ should’ve known better. Having a healthy father and son relationship is something he’s never had, not even since the moment he was born. That was never going to change with a bit of hope and longing.
JJ wraps a hand around the back of Kie’s head like he did in what he thought were his final moments. He stares at her intensely with every single emotion under the sun.
“No, Kie. You’re wrong.” His words are stern. He’s not sure of many things in his life but he’s sure of this. “You’ve always stayed by me. Through my self-sabotage, through my crash-out, through every shitty thing that makes up the life of JJ Maybank. So what that we got separated in that sandstorm? So what if I got a knife to the gut? It means nothing compared to everything else.”
JJ pulls Kie’s head down so their foreheads touch. “You saved my life, Kie. Today and every other day, over and over, again and again. It’s always been you that has kept me alive. You are my wish and I never needed a crown to grant me that.”
Kiara’s resolve completely shatters.
She’s his wish. Out of everything in the universe he wished for her and for a future with her. She really is everything he’s ever wanted. It makes her heart swell and explode.
Kiara never really thought about what her wish would be. In that moment she was more intrigued by his wish than thinking of her own, coupled with the high of the hunt. But now that she thinks about it, JJ’s ocean eyes piercing into her earthy ones, his hand tangled in her curls, she realises that she would’ve wished for him too. She would’ve wished for their surf trip, for their happiness and for their future.
And it’s promised now – their future is promised. They’ll make it there. They’ll make it to their endgame.
She manages a watery smile, their noses brushing. “You’re my wish too.”
JJ grins back, fighting the giddiness that hasn’t left him since he first developed a crush on his curly-haired best friend. He never thought he’d find his everything. He never thought he could be free with her.
And JJ never thought he would get his happy ending but here it is right in front of him.
“And JJ?” Kiara begins.
“Yeah?”
“I love you too.”
She firmly presses her lips to his, backing up those honest words that are only reserved for him. They both melt into the kiss, their hearts intertwining. It’s sweet and meaningful. It expresses everything they need it to. They almost lost one another again but they’ll always persevere. They’ll always make it to the end.
JJ and Kiara pull apart, smiling like the biggest idiots.
“JJ…”
John B’s breathless words filter into the room, causing the pair’s heads to turn towards the doorway.
JJ takes in his brother’s state which isn’t far off what Kie’s was when he first saw her. Except for one thing.
The bandage tied around his elbow. The exact same bandage that JJ has around his own.
JJ knows what John B did.
Although JJ might not be the most intelligent, he is observant and remembers certain things. Of course he remembers that he and John B share the same blood type, especially since when they were younger they used to think it meant they were related, and quite honestly they might as well be.
John B meant it when he said they’re brothers for life because he gave JJ that extra push to survive. He gave him a chance to grow old and to meet his and Sarah’s child and to be the godfather he knows JJ can be. He couldn’t lose the closest thing he has to a brother and he couldn’t lose his best friend since the third grade. Their bond is too strong to have let that happen.
Kiara moves aside with an emotional smile, giving John B room to barrel forward and tackle JJ in a hug.
The embrace is heartfelt. JJ scrunches his face into John B’s shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut. His brother leans over him as they hold each other as humanly close as possible. They’ve hugged many times before but this one holds a lot more significance. JJ has saved him in multiple ways before but this time John B has repaid him with more time to make his life count, to rewrite history into JJ’s own making and to explore the future he’s always desired with his found-family.
JJ couldn’t be more grateful.
Before John B can fully step back from the embrace Kiara ambushes him with her own hug.
“Thank you,” she mumbles into his neck, her voice quivering slightly.
John B stumbles a step before wrapping his arms around her back. “You saved him too, Kie. We both saved him.”
She smiles softly, meeting his eyes. “We did.”
He returns a lopsided grin. “I told you it’ll be alright.”
Kiara just rolls her eyes.
The rest of the Pogues soon spill into the room once they realise JJ is awake. Each of them threw their arms around him in relief, glad that he’s alright and evaded another near-death experience despite this one being the closest-call.
Being around his five best friends makes JJ conclude that he really doesn’t need Luke or Groff in his life to know what family is. He’s already found the best family he could possibly ask for in the Pogues. Though, deep down, he wishes his mother could be here to meet them all, and he wishes he could’ve met her too. She would’ve loved them, he knows it.
JJ’s exhaustion eventually catches up to him and the group, apart from Kie, leave the room to let him get some rest. He lies on his back, Kie’s head on his shoulder as she also lies beside him, their hands interlocked on his chest.
“So,” JJ huskily begins, “about that surf trip.” There’s a tired smirk. “You got room for one more?”
Kiara chokes on a teary laugh, looking up at him fondly. “I’ve got my passport.”
Running his thumb over the back of her hand, JJ smiles down at her.
“Then let’s ride.”