saw that u r taking request and - jjpope soulmate au?? pls and thank u!! <3
ur writing style is amazing and can't wait for ur new fics now that u have finished s2!! 🥺💘
Thank you so much! This is so sweet <3 I really appreciate it!
Fun fact: I wrote part of this for Mayward week way back when but messed up the prompt. I never finished it so I figured I might as well finish it up and us it here because I'm terrible at picking a soulmate au I wanna write. I hope you enjoy!
and so it is written
Pope is 18 years old when he kisses JJ by accident.
Pope wakes up with his chest pressed against JJ’s back, fingers tangled with his as they shift with each rise and fall of his chest. Pope would find it odd, but it’s pretty normal for them. JJ was affectionate when he was drunk and Pope found it was easier to just let the other hang off him rather than fight it. That usually just leads to JJ pouting and whining the rest of the night. It wasn’t worth it.
JJ shifts in his arms, rolling over until he’s facing Pope. Pope would find it cute, but JJ’s arm is now thrown across his face, fingers barely brushing against his ear and wrist crushing the bridge of his nose. Pope rolls his eyes, plucking his wrist so he can place it across his stomach instead.
He pauses when he notices the neat letters across JJ’s wrist.
They hadn’t been there last night. The indication of a soulmate could only mean one thing and it has Pope’s chest aching at the prospect. Who could JJ have kissed last night? Pope had kept an eye on him the whole time. There was no way he would have missed that. Fuck. He wanted that to be his name written across that delicate skin.
He has to do a double take when he actually reads the word across JJ’s skin.
That was his name! Pope was clearly written across his wrist, dark letters swirling over his light skin and making Pope’s chest pound as he reads the name over and over again.
There wasn’t another Pope on the island. It couldn’t be someone else. No way. He would have seen JJ kiss someone last night. Wait, he isn’t actually sure when they kissed last night. JJ usually kissed him on the cheek before bed but that wasn’t the first time. Though, JJ had gotten dangerously close to his lips, pressing his own to the corner of Pope’s mouth. There are people who would probably consider it a kiss. Their lips did touch. Apparently that was enough for the name to be written across his wrist.
Pope realizes then that he must have a matching one on his own wrist. He drops JJ’s hand unceremoniously onto his stomach, breath catching when he notices the word John written across his skin. He wishes that it was the two letters of JJ’s nickname (because it felt oddly weird to think it could stand for John B too) but he isn’t going to complain, not as he shakes JJ’s shoulders to wake him up in his excitement.
“Fuck, Pope. I’m trying to sleep,” JJ grumbles, swatting at him before he rolls over, facing the wall as he tugs the sheet up to his chin.
Pope doesn’t listen though, places a hand on JJ’s bicep and shakes him until JJ is basically shoving him off the bed, blond hair sticking up in all directors and blue eyes caked with sleep. He rubs at them as he glares at Pope and it’s probably the least threatening look Pope has ever received from him.
“What the hell do you want?” JJ snaps, but the words are cut off by a yawn and Pope can’t help but think how cute he looks.
“JJ!” Pope starts, reaching forward to wrap his fingers around his wrist. He pauses though as he looks into those blue eyes. What if this wasn’t what JJ wanted?? Wasn’t that the reason Pope hadn’t told JJ about his feelings? Pope didn’t want to lose JJ.
“Pope, what the hell is wrong?” JJ grumbles, but Pope can see the concern at Pope’s silence. The subtle frown on his lips as he rubs a hand over his cheek to try and wake himself up. “Are you okay?”
“What?” Pope’s dark eyes glance at JJ’s wrist before they meet his blue eyes again. “Yeah, I’m fine. Good. I just- forget about it. I’m just going to head home. My dad wants me back for work,” he lies, shuffling out of the bed.
But JJ noticed the glance and Pope watches as he shifts his gaze to the underside of his wrist with a crinkled brow. It seems to take a moment for JJ to process before blue eyes are widening in shock, wide eyes meeting Pope’s before he can run out the door. He can’t really leave now, not with JJ’s gaze pinning him to this spot.
Pope opens his mouth, tries to explain before he snaps it closed when JJ surges forward to grab his own hand, fingers gentle as they brush over his own name across Pope’s skin. The letters are barely visible across his darker skin, but the sunlight is hitting just right, the word John clear as day.
“Did we kiss last night?” JJ asks, voice quiet as he meets Pope’s gaze. The fingers on his wrist are brushing back and forth across the sensitive skin, cashing a shiver to run down Pope’s spine.
“Uh, the cheek kiss missed and you ended up kissing the corner of my mouth,” Pope explains, shifting his weight awkwardly.
“Do you-“ JJ pauses, wets his lips nervously. Pope’s never seen him this nervous before. “Are you okay with this?” JJ sounds insecure as he asks, nervous and it only takes Pope a moment to realize that JJ thinks he doesn’t want this.
“Yes,” Pope answers, making the words sound as sure as possible without giving away the butterflies that seem to be fluttering in his stomach.
The smile that pulls up JJ’s lips tastes like the ocean and stale beer as he surges forward to connect their lips, arms wrapped around Pope’s neck as he stumbles back a bit. He nearly falls backwards at the sudden weight in his arms, but catches himself, letting his arms wrap around JJ’s back, pulling him closer.
“Fuck. I should have kissed you sooner,” JJ breathes against his lips. Pope definitely agrees as he presses forward again, connecting their lips in another searing kiss. If he had just kissed JJ sooner, they could have known long ago that they were soulmates. Though, Pope has always been sure JJ was his soulmate. He didn’t need the name on his wrist to tell him that.
summary: Pope proposes, JJ panics, and now he’s trying to explain why he said no (and why he shouldn’t have done it.)
w/c: 3.7k
a/n: angst with a happy ending, ignore all the typos bc this is entirely unedited (i might edit in the future)
masterlist | tag list
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It’s really unfair that when someone’s life falls apart, the world itself doesn’t. JJ thinks it should. It should be raining knives, hailing bullets, volcanoes should be exploding and the ground shaking shouldn’t be just his personal experience of reality.
But it’s not even a moderately hot day. It’s breezy, it’s perfect, and it’s one of the nicest days of the fucking whole year.
JJ hates it.
The Chateau has only got John B and Kiara under its roof when he barges in, teeth gripping on the cap of a beer bottle. ‘Don’t ask,’ he states, then drops in the empty space between the two on the couch. His legs find their home on the coffee table and he nearly downs the bottle. Burps. Sighs, dramatically.
He knows they’re exchanging glances, but he chooses to ignore it.
Kie’s consoling hand lands on his shoulder. ‘What ha—’
‘Pope asked me to marry him,’ he says, ‘and I said no. And I also said I think it’s never going to happen.’
John B should’ve made a dumb comment. Kie should’ve made a sarcastic remark. But they didn’t, and they won’t, because JJ feels the gravity of the situation weighting down his lungs. (It feels like being torn up inside out, like his heart is chewing on itself out of anger, or sadness, or betrayal. It feels like the moment when your heart skips a beat and you think this is it, this is how I die, except you don’t; except you’re stuck in that moment forever.)
JJ burps. It chips at the silence, but it doesn’t break it. Kie’s hand on his shoulder is frozen and the distance between him and John B seems like an ocean.
‘Yeah,’ says JJ. ‘I don’t think that was what he expected.’
A sigh comes from Kie, but he doesn’t look. ‘When was this?’
‘About twenty minutes ago. I drove straight here.’
‘Drunk?’ asks John B.
‘Does it matter? I’m here now. Safe and sound.’ He lets out a dry chuckle before he can stop himself, and shakes his head. ‘Physically, anyway.’
‘You’re not drunk,’ says Kie. It sounds a little like a scoff, so JJ looks at her, but he can’t figure out what her face is saying. Tight lips scream anger, but her eyes are soft as ever, maybe a little concerned. She glances between him and John B with one of her eyebrows slightly raised. ‘He’s a heartbroken idiot, but not drunk.’
‘Ah. Understandable. Should I—’
‘You know what being a heartbroken idiot means.’ Kie pushes herself off the couch and when JJ glances at his other friend, John B’s just as confused as he is. ‘I know a thing or two about getting your heart broken for a dumb reason. You two sort that out, and I’ll make sure Pope’s okay. Let me know when you’ve knocked some sense into him.’
Before either of the boys manage to comprehend her words, she’s out the door. The Kie-shaped void on JJ’s left side feels a little odd, so he pushes himself into that side of the couch. The beer is bitter at the back of his throat; he wishes some music would be playing.
John B calls his name, so JJ looks at him. He’s giving him the puppy eyes, trying to get him to talk, and it’s because neither of them really know how to start. (Their affection is physical, not verbal. Kie’s the one who’s good at that. Pope is—)
‘Did you panic?’ asks John B.
JJ shakes his head. ‘Don’t think so. Not until after I’ve said it, anyway.’
‘So what happened?’
There’s a pause, JJ feels his brow furrow, and then: ‘I don’t know.’
‘…you don’t know?’
‘No.’
‘So you panicked.’
‘No, I didn’t, it’s—’ With a sigh, JJ accepts the momentary defeat. He glances over and sees John B’s signature stare full of indecipherable intent, but nothing less than pure kindness. They’ve had their bumps, but they always came out on top. It’s the pogue way. Even if John B wears that stupid bandanna around his neck well into his married life of his late twenties. ‘I knew the answer was no.’
It’s John B’s turn to frown. ‘You’ve thought about it?’
‘No, I just knew. Like you know the ocean is salty.’
‘You know that because you’ve tasted it before,’ counters John B. ‘I doubt you’ve been proposed to before.’
‘I could’ve been!’
All John B offers is a long stare yet that is enough. He’s older by only a few months, but he’s also married and didn’t say no to the proposal (granted, it was him proposing to Sarah, but still) and kind of has got his life together. He’s still JJ’s dumb older brother, but he knows something JJ doesn’t.
‘How did you know you wanted to marry Sarah?’
‘Are you reconsidering your answer?’
‘No, I just—’ JJ sighs again and tries to wish another bottle into appearing in his hand. Doesn’t work. Probably for the better. He just leans his head back on the couch and stares at the ceiling, connecting the dots in his mind. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing. I just want you to tell me how you knew.’
He hears shuffling, and then feels John B’s feet in his lap. (He’s not going to comment on the boat shoes. There’s been enough deflecting. He’s got to listen, because Pope is threatening to burst into the forefront of his mind any second now.)
John B gives out the deep, heavy sigh that only comes with a slight aah whenever he’s about to tell a story. ‘When we were young, she made everything come alive. Everything looked brighter and clearer, and it was like I could finally breathe with the entirety of my lungs.’
JJ closes his eyes, trying not to gag. ‘Bro. I’m not listening to that.’
‘But that’s how I knew!’ He could just hear the grouch in his friend’s voice and now he’s threading the fine line between laughing and gagging. ‘Seriously, JJ, you asked. I don’t— I don’t know what to say. I don’t think you’re taking this seriously enough.’
‘I am.’
‘No, you’re not. You’re deflecting.’
‘Big word.’
‘See?’ John B scrunches his nose, shaking his head. His thumb and index finger grip the bridge of his nose. ‘I know you’re confused. And scared. I know you panicked when Pope asked, but I don’t think you understand how horrible is the thing you’ve done.’
‘It’s not like I broke his heart,’ scoffs JJ, but the words are flat and his heart skips another beat. He doesn’t need to look at John B to knows he’s got his head in his hands. ‘C’mon, it’s Pope. He’s tougher than he looks.’
‘Yes, but he proposed, JJ. He asked to spend the rest of his life with you and you said no!’
‘I didn’t say no to that!’ JJ flings himself off the couch and now he’s pacing around the living room of the Chateau, marching circles around the coffee table. His forehead is pulsating; he’s probably having a heart attack. That’d explain a lot. ‘I said no to getting married.’
‘That’s the same thing.’
‘It isn’t.’
‘It is.’
‘It really isn’t, John B,’ he spits out. Christ, he’s getting hot. Is that his blood boiling? ‘Marriage is… It’s taxes. It’s prenups. It’s joint bank accounts, it’s added tension, it’s fucked up. Half of the marriages don’t even last.’
(Pope’s always talked about getting married. When gay marriage was legalised, before they were together, before they were out of the closet, even then he was openly delighted about it. He’s been talking about the two of them getting married for a while now, or at least hinting at it.
He should’ve expected it. It didn’t come out of the blue. He saw the signs, just ignored them, because… because…)
‘If you’re scared marriage is going to ruin your relationship, JJ, I’ll have you know you’ve already done that yourself.’
This is about the point where everything just… It comes crashing down. The world does end the way JJ wanted it to.
He feels himself growing very, very still, like when he was younger and his father raised a hand. He feels his breath halting in his throat and ears tuning out all sound, repeating John B’s words over and over until the echo became the echo of itself. He could feel the ground opening beneath him despite not moving an inch.
When gravity drags you down to earth, your rose-tinted glasses shatter like porcelain.
He sees Pope’s face of shock, then laughter, then embarrassment and betrayal at once, once he’s realised JJ isn’t joking. He sees him get up from his knees, hands shaking as JJ fumbles over his words, unable to find an explanation or an excuse. He feels cold sweat breaking out on his forehead, blood turning to ice in his hands. He sees his mum leaving, his dad’s hand raised; he sees people arguing and JJ wants to cover his ears. He sees himself, alone, alone, alone.
And he sees Pope turning his back to him. Quietly. He doesn’t even argue back. Just takes the no and i’m sorry, i can’t do this, it’s never going to happen, not like this and doesn’t say a word. Just walks away.
It’d be easier if he screamed at JJ. At least he’d know how to deal with that.
Pope’s heartbreak is the quiet kind, the one that doesn’t ask for attention, just the opposite. Usually JJ’s there to hold his hand, to sit by his side until Pope’s ready to talk about it, or be somewhere around, far enough so that Pope deals with things himself, but close enough so that he’s there if he’s needed. He’s never been the reason for the quiet.
Fire replaces the ice. JJ feels like the sun itself is tearing him open.
‘Shit,’ he says. ‘Fuck.’ Then raises his eyes until he meets John B’s, blurry and barely visible. ‘I fucked up.’
He doesn’t realise he’s shaking until his knees buckle under his weight and he stumbles to find his footing. John B shoots from the couch and pulls him into a hug, wrapping his arms around him so tight JJ couldn’t have escaped if he wanted to. He didn’t. He wanted to be held, even if by a friend.
He doesn’t sob because the sob gets caught in his throat, too, but he lets out a cough that says all the same. ‘It would’ve been easier if you yelled at me.’
‘I know.’ John B pats his back, letting JJ rest his weight unto him. ‘Pope will understand. That’s why Kie went to talk to him. As long as you realise you’re hurting everyone by being an idiot, you can make it better.’
‘I thought—’ He stops, because his words get fumbled again, and now he’s pressing his eyes into his friend’s shoulder like he’s all he’s got. ‘I don’t want to hurt anyone again.’
‘You’re not going to, okay? Just… Marriage is not all taxes, and you gotta understand that. It’s about knowing that if they get hurt, you’ll be allowed to see them. That you can get a house together, that you can look after each other if something goes wrong. That what you have is there to stay. Think of it as a promise.’
JJ snorts, but he doesn’t let go. ‘I don’t do well with people promising things to me.’
‘Then promise it to yourself,’ counters John B. The way he puts it makes it sound it’s as easy as breathing – JJ wishes he could feel the same. ‘Promise to stay with him. Promise to be around if something bad happens, but if something good happens, too. That’s what marriage is.’
‘I already promised that,’ he says. ‘His future and mine are the same.’
‘Then what’s the problem? Marriage is just making it legal. Making it formal. When what you have is honest and true, it doesn’t change anything. It just makes things better.’
JJ pulls out, feeling confident he can stand on his own two feet. He still feels a little lightheaded, but the thought of Pope possibly thinking that spending the rest of their lives together is the last thing JJ would want… That is the last thing JJ would want. Pope hurting because of him.
JJ can’t afford to be scared anymore; living a life half-way ready to run is not living.
He checks his phone; it must’ve chimed at some point because there’s texts from Kie, telling him where she is with Pope. His heart skips another beat, and at this point he thinks he could have enough heartbeats for a whole new person just from the ones he missed.
He’s not dying today. He’s not dying before he gets to live the future he’s almost ripped out of his own hands.
When he looks up at John B, he feels the hint of a weary smile on his lips. ‘I think I’ve got a promise to make.’
—
It shouldn’t be a surprise JJ finds them at the Boneyard, yet it’s still quite odd to see the scenario he’s seen a million times – Kie sitting next to the sea with her feet dipped into water as her fingers splash at the waves just about reaching her, and Pope… Pope sitting on the half-dunked log that’s been here forever, with his feet bare but not quite touching the water. His head is hung low and JJ can see the strain in his shoulders even from halfway across the beach; the cap is sitting on his lap, unused, despite the sun high above their heads.
The sight tugs at his heart and he falters in his step, but John B’s firm hand on his back encourages him forward. JJ gives a slight nod; he’s not giving up on the courage.
It’s Pope who notices them first and he stiffens even more; JJ sees Kie pat his knee before turning around and waving at them, then saying something to Pope. JJ wishes the wind would carry her words to him – is it encouragement or telling Pope he’s better off without someone who panics and refuses the one thing they’ve always longed for?
‘Don’t.’ John B pats him on the back. ‘I see you doing your dumb thought thing.’
JJ opens his mouth to say something, but whatever it was that he meant to say, it’s gone forever. All he can do is try and keep his shoulders from slumping and hands from forming fists; he can’t allow himself to be angry at the world, or himself.
The sand creaks underneath his feet. He hates it in this moment, because it makes him aware of every step he’s got to take to get to Pope, and the steps drag into eternity.
Pope locks their eyes. JJ tries figuring him out, but he’s too far, and Pope’s too guarded.
(Not against me, Pope. Please. Not against me.)
When they get there, JJ feels like fainting, but he sets his foot firmly on the ground. He’s not escaping.
‘Hey,’ greets Kie, and John B returns the greeting. The feuded lovers stay silent, just taking each other in.
(JJ always wished he could paint. The lines of Pope’s face are shaped as if they were meant to withstand centuries instead of being washed away with age. He wishes he could offer to Pope more than just… himself.
He’s talked about this with Pope before, though. Feeling inferior to his boyfriend was always going to be JJ’s Achilles’ heel, yet he didn’t think it would come to this. He made another promise, ages ago – to try to see himself the way Pope sees him. The way other people see him.
To believe in himself the way he believes in other people, for once.)
The silence is heavy, but JJ forces himself to not see it that way. Instead, he looks over to Kie, to John B, and says: ‘Can you guys give us a second?’
There’s nods and then they’re off, with nothing between the couple aside from waves crashing into the shore. Pope’s head is hung and shoulders slumped, and he’s sitting on this log with one foot pulled up and resting on it, the other hanging in the water now. JJ’s fingers ache to reach across for his, but he tells himself it’s not the time.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘Marriage scares me. I don’t know one that worked out, aside from John B and Sarah. I was raised to be on my own. Marriage means not being alone and that scared me, until I realised that… I haven’t been alone for a while now. The pogues, you… Nobody’s going anywhere. And if marriage is just a way to promise to you that I’m not going anywhere, either, and if it means so much to you, then I say let’s do it. I got scared, but never for a second did a life without you cross my mind. It’s — That’s my nightmare, Pope. Your future and mine are the same. Where you go, I follow. That’s the way things are.’
For a long time, it was JJ trying to come to terms with loving Pope – then it was Pope coming to terms with loving JJ. They’ve always loved each other, in a way, without quite saying it. It has never been the kind of love that is shouted from the rooftops – it’s the helping hand, the whispers of i got this, or you’re not alone in this, or i wish you could see yourself the way i see you. It’s the kind of love that’s etched into the air around them, existing as a part of themselves rather than something external. They’ve grown into it, shaped their lives around it.
It’s always been the beach for them. Their first kiss when they were seventeen, their first fight, their first promise to stick together through thick and thin. Every time something happened, something that mattered, etched itself into the back of JJ’s mind like the sound of his mother’s voice, it was always accompanied by the sound of waves on the shore; by the wind howling over the bay. It was always people chatting in the distance, or some music playing from a half-working speaker. It was always them, in the midst of other people’s lives.
Pope proposed in their flat.
When JJ drops to his knees, he doesn’t do his dumb thought thing. He doesn’t even think about it – for once, his gut isn’t telling him to run, but stay. ‘Pope Heyward.’
‘JJ—’
‘Can you let me do this?’ asks JJ. He laughs a little, shakes his head, and tries not to think about how ridiculous this looks. ‘I know I already had a monologue, but I don’t think I got my point across.’
Pope shakes his head, too; he isn’t smiling, but his eyes aren’t as strained anymore. ‘It’s okay, you don’t have to—’
‘I want to. I want this, okay? I want you to hear it.’
He can see Pope’s Adam’s apple bob, and he can see his shoulders slump in a relaxed way. The lines around his eyes soften and his lips nearly turn upwards, just a little bit. A little twitch is enough to shoot electricity to JJ’s heart.
‘Pope, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life saying it to you. You’re my best friend, my boyfriend, and my fiancee, if you’ll have me after the shit I pulled today. Husband, then. Father of your children, because I know it’s what you’ve always wanted, and I want it, too. Whatever you’ll be, I’ll be by your side. It’s all I want. No matter what our status is, we’re always Pope and JJ. We’re always just us. And I really haven’t thought out what I’d say next because—’
Pope’s lips crash into JJ’s, his hands grasping at JJ’s face, and world pulls itself together again. When they part their foreheads lean against one another, and he can feel Pope’s breath on his lips, and he feels his hands burning on the small of Pope’s back, and he can breathe and breathe and breathe like his lungs have never worked properly before.
(He understands John B now. Not like he’d ever admit it to him.)
He lets out a chuckle, and then he’s kissing Pope again – a small, chaste kiss, just to feel the softness of the touch. His fingers grip the back of Pope’s flannel and he’s laughing into the kiss.
‘You’re an idiot,’ says Pope. ‘I should break up with you.’
‘Can’t. I’m too irresistible.’
‘Shut up. You’re cheesy. That entire speech would put John B to shame.’
JJ shakes his head again and then his thumb is tracing the line of Pope’s jaw, eyes transfixed by his lips. He almost lost this. He almost gave up everything out of fear after promising to never doing it again. (He’s making a vow, this time. It holds more weight.) ‘You loved that speech.’
Pope rolls his eyes, in the way that tells JJ he’s right. ‘Kie told me you were freaking out at the Chateau.’
‘I was,’ admits JJ. What’s the point of holding back the truth? ‘I was freaked out of my mind. I thought I’d ruined everything.’
‘You forget how well I know you, JJ. I was hurt, but I knew you would come back. Old you would run, but Kie came and said you’re at the Chateau, and you wouldn’t have gone there if you meant to run.’
‘I couldn’t ever run from you.’
‘You better.’
JJ rolls his eyes at the teasing tone in Pope’s voice, then pulls him in for a hug. It’s not long until Pope buries his face in JJ’s shoulder, and JJ kisses the side of his head. ‘I do want to marry you, if you’ll have me.’
There’s a pause and JJ feels Pope chuckle against his neck, shivering a little. ‘What is it that you said? My future and yours are the same? That better be in your vows, John B.’
‘Shut up.’ JJ feels himself burning, neck up this time, and tries to laugh it off. ‘I get to be cheesy once.’
‘Just save it for the wedding. I’d like to hear it again.’
JJ angles his body so there’s some space between them; he doesn’t hesitate before planting another kiss on Pope’s lips, reveling in the ease of movement. This is what coming home feels like, and if this is what future has in store for him, who is he to complain?
drabble that i wrote in twenty minutes because @ronnieweasley did this and i just had to write about it.
*
“Be safe.”
“We will.”
John B’s gaze follows Sarah as she heads off toward the house, and Pope fights the urge to roll his eyes. Though he doubts anyone would notice if he did; it’s eerily dark out, the only source of light emanating from the old woman’s porch.
Popes heart jumps to his throat as he feels a soft hand rest on his cheek and gently turn his face.
It’s JJ, and for a moment Pope can’t breathe. Why would he-
“Be safe,” JJ echoes, voice low and mocking.
Oh. It isn’t real. It’s a joke. Pope isn’t sure why he feels so nervous; he doesn’t like JJ like that. He doesn’t even like boys.
Besides, he likes Kie. He always has.
He smiles a little uneasily, reaching up to grab at JJ’s coat.
“I’ll be so safe,” he croons, content to play along despite the odd feeling in his stomach, “I’ll be safe for you.”
He grins even as JJ’s hand moves to his scarf, resting gently there for a moment before it falls to his side.
“Can you guys stop?” John B sounds annoyed, and Pope chuckles as their friend stands and brushes the dirt from his knees.
“I’m going to scan the perimeter. Make sure no one followed us here. Don’t move,” he warns, and then stalks off in the direction that they came.
Pope shakes his head and turns back to JJ, about to make another snide comment, but it gets lost on its way out of his mouth. They’re still sitting awfully close, JJ’s body angled toward Popes.
Close enough that if he wanted to, Pope could just reach out and-
What is he thinking? He loves Kiara, Kiara who he should be worried about, who is in the house of a crazy woman and maybe about to be murdered. But he can only think of JJ.
His eyes look very bright and very blue even in the dark. Pope lets out an almost imperceptible sigh.
Slowly, like he’s terrified, JJ lifts one hand and cups Popes jaw, a mirror of its previous position.
His gaze feels like a question. Pope swallows, and then nods.
Just as gently as the way he seems to do everything around Pope, he moves forward and presses their mouths together. It’s sweet, and soft, and over too quickly. When they pull away JJ still looks terrified.
“Guys, everything looks clear!” John B calls, much too loudly for how discreet they’re all trying to be. JJ moves back almost instinctively, and Pope is thankful that it’s too dark for John B to notice anything. Thankful, but also he feels like a hole in his chest is burning wide open. Like his rib cage has always been made of kindling, and now JJ has set it on fire.
Pope must look as dumbstruck as he feels, because John B wrinkles his nose.
“Dude, you okay?”
“Fine,” Pope croaks.
JJ shifts just slightly so that their shoulders brush, and, well. It feels like being set aflame.
Where JJ drags Pope to the beach for the sunset partly involuntarily but Pope ends up loving it.
PSA: they aren't officially together as a couple in this one YET but both obviously have feelings for each other. Just dudes being bros.
"You're insane!" Pope yelled to JJ who was currently busy climbing up one heck of a high tree just by the beach.
JJ had annoyed him into agreeing to join him on his so-called "best thing you're gonna do in your life" adventure. And although Pope was rather tired from helping his dad with the deliveries the whole day, he had finally said yes. Because honestly, he couldn't exactly say no to JJ. Even when his ideas sounded stupid. Especially when his pouting lips were included and eyes shining after Pope agreed. So he'd followed the suspiciously a little too excited JJ down to the beach where he was now probably going to get himself killed.
"I know!" JJ howled back to him, grinning. "Isn't it just great?"
Pope shook his head in disbelief. "You know I won't catch you when you fall!!"
Stopping his movements just for a second, JJ said carelessly "Pope Heyward, you need to stop doubting my abilities, I won't fall."
After a moment JJ shouted to Pope again, "I advise you to start climbing soon, because you know, my plan will only work out once you're up here, too."
Pope scoffed. "Oh wait, what plan?! The one where we both fall down and most likely break our spines? No thanks," he said sarcastically.
As much as he didn't like the idea of JJ being up there all alone, he just wouldn't climb. Simple as that. Besides, only watching someone else being that high already made him a bit anxious. Maybe it was just because it was JJ. But this wasn't the point.
"No Pope, you have to come," JJ rolled his eyes at him, having stopped climbing now completely. "It's not a suggestion, it's an order!"
"Oh hell no, I'm not getting up there!" Pope threw his hands, frustrated.
"Oh hell yes you are! I won't get down before you come," JJ replied and shot him a glaring stare.
So they were doing that now. Arguing like 7 year olds. Pope crossed his arms under the tree, getting irritated. JJ didn't make any effort to move. The whole I'm-not-letting-it-go-before-you-do competition lasted for 3 minutes the longest before JJ managed to melt Pope with his pleading eyes.
"Pope, pretty please!" he fake whined and Pope couldn't help himself but smile.
"Alright, wait up then!" he said and finally started climbing that stupidly high tree.
"Hey, be careful there," JJ instructed and Pope laughed.
"So now you're getting worried, huh?"
"Shut up!" JJ said, pretending to be annoyed.
JJ, too, resumed his climbing once Pope was getting closer to him, poking his tongue out at Pope.
Once they were up as high as it was possible to climb safely, JJ sat down slowly on one of the branches and shifted his body to make room for Pope aswell. He sighed, resting his head on JJ's shoulder.
"Isn't the view just gorgeous, boy?" JJ murmured, his body vibrating close to Pope's.
Pope took in the sunset painting the horizon colorful over the sea. The soft hum of the waves and wind singing between the trees mixing with Pope's heartbeat and JJ's quiet calm breathing made Pope forget the earlier anxiety he had felt. Yes, if either of them made one wrong move, they'd both fall. But this didn't matter because they were together up there while the rest of the world was far away. And together they were safe.
"I used to come here alone all the time.." JJ continued. "To escape, I guess."
Pope was quiet for a minute longer, thinking about what it meant for JJ to share his secret spot with somebody else.
After a while he said, "Hey thanks for showing me this place, I really love it here."
He felt JJ's body shake with soft laughter. A small smile was dancing on his own lips, too.
"Oh, you know I wouldn't share it with anyone else."
And Pope knew. He always came first for JJ. And JJ did for him.
×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××
Tag list: @pope-obx @thistreasurehunter @playitaagain @bipopeheyward @popeheywrd @ronnieweasley @gushes @midsommers @ifyourelostyoucanlook @loveop5500 @delightfullynlove @kiesargent @backintheggamebaby @eucalyptrat let me know if you want to be tagged!
for the song prompt, here's two: stay by gracie abrams and finally // beautiful stranger by halsey
two for the price of one! i like it!
stay
The day they broke apart, it was raining.
Thunder began to rumble when they started to argue. They argued over what they always argued over-- the gold. JJ still wanted it, despite the fact that it had cost John B and Sarah their lives. It was the only way JJ could think of to honor them, as stupid as that sounds now. He couldn’t let Ward get away with it. If he let it go, then the kooks would get everything, and the pogues would get nothing. JJ couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t let his best friend’s sacrifice be for fucking nothing.
It was a simple affair, really. JJ wanted to go after the gold. Pope didn’t. He had a rescheduled scholarship interview to think about, after all.
Rain stung against his skin when Pope said that. Of course he knew Pope had another interview coming. Of course he was happy for Pope to have a second chance at freedom, a second chance at a happy, successful life. Of course he knew. He just thought-- well.
He thought that-- after everything, everything they’d fought, laughed, and cried over-- after everything they’d been through together-- he thought that Pope would want to stay.
Pope insisted that they needed to give up the treasure hunting nonsense and let the gold go. Bury it in the past, JJ thought bitterly, like the two empty coffins they’d put in the dirt not but a week ago.
A small part of JJ knew that Pope was right. A big part of JJ was lost and grieving and fucking furious.
Lightning danced over a raging ocean when JJ lost it. It was selfish of him, he knows. But JJ had always been a little bit stupid when it comes to the big picture. That scholarship meant everything to Pope, and he’d almost lost his chance once. Now that he had it again, he wasn’t going to let it slip past him. JJ knew that.
Pope had a chance to get away, and he was taking it. And in that moment, JJ hated him for it.
Cold water slid down JJ’s spine as Pope walked away for the last time. He hoped the rainwater would have extinguished the misplaced rage and grief in his heart. Hoped it would have cooled the fury burning in his chest, the stubbornness forcing his fingers into fists. Impossibly, JJ hoped the storm would have let him see reason.
It didn’t.
The day Pope left for DC, the sun was shining. He packed up all of his things into three suitcases, loaded them into the car, and left. Kiara rode with him to the airport to say goodbye. JJ spent the day surfing.
He spent the night drinking alone.
The day the bank takes the chateau, it drizzles. The day he burns the rest of John B’s things, it pours. The day Heyward offers him a job and a place to stay, it’s a cloudy, mute morning. The day Kiara tells him he should give Pope a call, it hails.
She does that a lot. Insist that he should reach out. He never listens. Pride is an evil, spiteful thing, and it’s got its claws dug into his heart so deep JJ thinks it might be the only thing holding his heart together in the first place.
He doesn’t tell Kie that, but JJ thinks she might know anyway.
This goes on for months. Kie insists he should give Pope a call. JJ never does.
He wants to, though.
It comes slow and small, this wanting. It starts in his chest, slips right between the bloody claws of pride and makes a home in the scar tissues on his heart. It begins to grow, and grow, and grow until there’s a little flower blooming there-- right in the remnants of the only friendship he didn’t want to shatter. And oh, this little flower hurts in it’s own right. It makes him ache in a new kind of way. A way that makes him want to reach out. A way that makes him want to mend, makes him want to heal.
He thinks of reasons why he should. In the end, he comes up with only four.
Because he’s selfish. Because he’s tired. Because he’s sorry. Because it’s raining.
The day he calls Pope, the sun finally shines, and that flower blooms.
finally // beautiful stranger
The drive back to the outer banks is as eye opening as it is nostalgic.
The sun is as yellow as Pope remembers, maybe a little less vibrant than it was in his youth, but still bright nonetheless. The drive makes his eyes tired, and the sunlight bouncing off the ocean in the distance catches in his rearview mirror on occasion, making him squint. He doesn’t mind, though. The waves are still just as beautiful as they were when he was a kid.
The poverty of his hometown is clearer to him, now. Pope thinks it’s a little funny, how idyllic childhood makes the world seem. Money doesn’t matter so much when you're a kid, even when it should. But childhood is meant to be spent not worrying about the adult world. When you’re a kid, you’re supposed to worry about spaceships and dragons, not when your next meal would be.
At least, for normal kids, anyway.
The pogues weren’t like that. It seemed like worry and fear followed after them wherever they went. It was just a part of the life. They were so caught up running from beatings and kooks and security guards, they didn’t have much time for imagination. Sure, they still had dreams, but not about dragons. They dreamed of second chances. Second chances to start over and dump the shitty cards they’d been dealt.
The pogues already knew that dragons didn’t exist because they had real monsters to worry about.
Maybe that’s why they all latched onto the idea of the gold so hard, Pope thinks as he pulls into the parking lot of the wreck. Just for a chance to use their imaginations and act like normal kids, for once.
Kiara is waiting for him in the lot. Leaned up against the side of her Honda Civic -- which has more bumper stickers plastered on it than it does actual bumper-- sucking on the straw of a pink looking drink she must’ve got on the ride down, because there’s no way in hell Pope’s mom wouldn’t have heard about a new Starbucks on the cut and told him immediately.
“Heya, stranger,” Kie smiles wide when he steps out of the car, and Pope’s heart trips over itself a little at the sight. Fuck, he’s missed her.
“Hey yourself,” he says before striding over and pulling her into a spinning hug that makes both of them laugh. The familiarity of the motion makes something warm settle in Pope’s chest, and he sets her back down with a smile. “How have you been?”
“Good!” Kie says cheerfully, before posing against her bumper like she might for the cover of vogue. “Cali’s been good to me, can’t you tell?”
He can tell. The California sun has made her tan skin glow, and the many flowering tattoos she’s got on her forearms spill out of her shirt sleeves like they’ve always belonged there. Her curls are still as wild as they’ve always been, pulled up into a bun and held back by a multicolored bandana. She looks as beautiful as ever.
“I can definitely see that.” Pope agrees, and Kiara beams.
Despite his delight at seeing her again, Pope finds himself glancing about the parking lot, looking for a familiar hint of blond hair, the seemingly endless amount of light in blue eyes, the bright hint of a smile.
The sad thing is, deep down, Pope knows he’s not going to see him, standing there between the cars. He still looks anyway.
“Is he coming?” Pope asks, and something in Kie’s smile falters, a bit.
“C’mon,” she says, and slips her arm into his. She leads him towards the restaurant. “I had my mom reserve us our usual table. You can tell me all about DC and your fancy forensic program while we get a drink, okay?”
Pope takes her avoidance for what it is. He keeps his smile up, even if he doesn’t want to so much anymore. “Okay.”
They spend the next few hours drinking and catching up. Kiara tells him all about California and working with GreenPeace and the sun, and Pope tells her about GWU and the forensic program and the snow.
Pope will gladly admit that it feels nice to come back again. The wreck is a place of comfort for both of them, filled with memories of laughter that haven’t been tainted and ruined by the world. It’s a little bubble of safety they find themselves in, and Pope takes more solace in it than he probably should.
Despite this, he still feels like there’s a piece of that safety and comfort missing. The empty chair beside him serves as a reminder, and Pope tries his best to fight off the disappointment that his best friend is not there to fill it.
Well. Former best friend. Maybe.
They haven’t talked since Pope left. At least, not really. The occasional phone call didn’t exactly clear the air like talking in person would.
That fight had been so stupid in hindsight, but they had been pretty stupid as kids. It was part of their charm, Pope supposes, but. That still didn’t make him feel much better.
The night was winding down when it happened. Both he and Kie were well and thoroughly on their way to being a little too drunk to drive, and were, admittedly, starting to turn a bit giggly. Kie saw him first. Pope saw the way her eyes widened, mouth stretching into a grin before Pope was whipping around to look, and there he was.
He stood, hands shoved into a pair of well worn jeans. His T-shirt showed a big logo for the mechanic’s place in town, meaning he’d probably just got off of work. A familiar shark tooth necklace still dangled around his neck.
He looked tired, but healthy. A bit of stubble stood out against his cheeks, and his hair was longer than Pope remembered. There was a well worn looking hair tie wrapped around his wrist, probably for keeping his hair out of his face while he was at work. His eyes were just as blue as Pope remembered.
“Hi,” JJ said.
Kiara was up and out of her seat before Pope even had time to think. JJ’s face broke out into a smile as he embraced her tight. Pope stood quietly while Kie berated JJ for never calling her enough. JJ flushed, mumbling something about working full time and running errands for Heyward. Kie rolled her eyes at the excuse, but her smile was fond.
Then Pope was standing in front of them, and he and JJ were face to face.
“Hey,” Pope said with an honest smile. “Long time no see.”
“Yeah,” JJ huffed out a slight smile, but wouldn’t meet Pope’s eyes. Pope had never seen JJ look so nervous. “It’s been a while.”
“I missed you.” Pope said. Because he didn’t know what else to say, and because it was the truth.
There was an unbearable silence for a moment as they just stared at each other. Then--
“Look, Pope,” JJ started. “I’m sorry--,” and before he could say anything else Pope was pulling JJ into a hug that was maybe just a little too tight. JJ went still for a moment, then melted into Pope’s arms like he’d never wanted to be anywhere else.
“Wanna have a drink?” Pope asked as they broke apart, gesturing back to their table.
JJ’s smile was small, but it was a smile nonetheless. “Sure.”
The night went on, and JJ began to loosen. He smiled more, began to add his own witty commentary to the conversation, laughed at Pope’s bad jokes between sips of beer. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
And when JJ fully leaned into Pope’s side as they all burst into laughter, his smile so bright and his eyes so happy and blue, the only thing Pope could think was-- finally.
a/n: this my first jjpope fic & my first fic on this website.
I want to write more for them in the future. We shall see.
Thank you for reading! It means a lot!
Summary:
The voice tells him: You aren’t good. You aren’t enough. You aren’t worth it. You don’t deserve it.
And JJ believes it.
So, everything he feels for Pope, he buries.
OR
In which Pope confesses his feelings for JJ and it doesn’t go as planned.
They're laughing when it happens. When everything between them changes. JJ says something stupid. The kinda stupid thing that he only says because of the reaction it gets out of Pope. The reaction where Pope throws his head back in laughter, and JJ, in awe, watches and thinks... totally worth it. They're walking side by side, hands brushing slightly by accident and there's a mutual flutter in the pit of their stomachs. It's warm. It's light. It's familiar. And to both, it's everything.
"You can't be serious!" Pope exclaims.
"I'm so fuckin' serious, dude. She chased me all the way to the beach, I swear!"
He's exaggerating. Of course, he's exaggerating. He knows this. Pope knows this. But JJ hopes it'll get Pope's lips to quirk up the way he loves, so he creates a mountain out of a molehill and rolls with it. To his prevail, it works, and while his friend's lips form into a genuine smile, JJ's heart races so hard that he's afraid it might beat out of his chest.
"Bro, she's like 90!"
"73, actually," he corrects.
"Well, in that case, I'm surprised she didn't tackle you like a professional NFL player," Pope says, jokingly.
JJ laughs, always proud when Pope makes a smart remark. "Surprised you didn't get the NFL confused with the NBA again."
The teasing makes Pope roll his eyes and snort, playfully shoving the blue-eyed boy away. "That was one time, J. Sports aren't my specialty."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. I just like messing with you."
Pope smiles. "Wish I knew why."
"Because if I didn't mess with you, you wouldn't smile like that," JJ says softly, gesturing to Pope's wide grin.
That's when it happens. Abruptly, all laughter fades. The friendly air surrounding them becomes charged with tension. JJ turns and raises a brow when Pope stops walking with no explanation. Pope just looks at him. Looks at him in a way he isn't used to. There's a fondness and longing to it. Feeling exposed under the weight of the other's stare, JJ shifts from one foot to the other as he lets out a nervous chuckle.
"What, man?" he asks.
Silently, Pope shakes his head as if to say nothing but they both know he's lying.
In a weak attempt to give him an out, JJ shrugs. "Come on then, let's just go," he says.
He doesn't wait for a reply and begins walking again, fully hoping Pope does the same because ignoring whatever's in the air around them is much easier than addressing it. When JJ sneaks a glance at Pope, it looks like he's about to give in and join him to the boy's relief. Then he hesitates and comes to a stop again. JJ groans.
Pope's chest heaves, something that only happens when he's on edge. He looks at JJ again, really looks at him, and Pope can't help but want him. He contemplates letting it go and retreating back to pretending, but he is tired. Tired of carrying around all this love he has for JJ and having nothing to do with it. Tired of ignoring the long pauses and the tension that's never resolved. Tired of simply not being with him.
So, Pope doesn't let it go and he doesn't pretend. Not anymore.
Pope thinks, if JJ doesn't feel the same, well, then at least he can excuse it by saying he is tired. (It wouldn't be a complete lie.)
He holds his head up high, even though he's never been more unsure in his life. His legs are on the verge of giving out and his hands visibly tremble by his sides. Pope almost chickens out but his heart beats his brain to the punch.
"I love you." It comes out quick and small. It has the blond halting in his tracks and snapping his head back at his friend in utter shock.
The words knock the wind right out of JJ and leave him breathless. What? He lets the confusion on his face ask the question for him.
Pope bites his lip anxiously out of habit. He gulps but forces himself to face it. "I love you, JJ." This time he sounds louder. More confident. More determined. More sure. Pope sighs out in relief at his own confession, feeling free. Feeling so free that he doesn't stop, "I love you so much. I don't know how to act around it or breathe around it. I think about it all the time- I think about you all the time."
(Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.)
Speechless, JJ blinks. He opens his mouth to speak, but it falls shut and he resorts back to blinking. Wondering. Wondering how this could be possible. He searches carefully for the right words but ultimately ends up with: "Man, what are you talkin' about?"
"I've never felt this way about anybody before. It's different with you than it was with Kie. I've been trying to find out why and I think it's because this... this is real. I don't think I've ever actually loved anyone the way that I love you." At this point, Pope is being Pope and is rambling. Typically, JJ would find it endearing. Right now, though, it's overwhelming. "And I don't know what to do with it- all this love I have for you, I don't know what to do with it because I've never been in a serious relationship before. I know you haven't either- I mean, I don't see why, you're so great and amazing and could literally have anybody you wanted. I just...."
It all runs together after that, turning JJ into a lost and tense mess. Pope fuckin' Heyward loves him? How? That can't be right.
It isn't right, he tells himself. He isn't right. Not for Pope, anyway. Pope could do so much better.
(Shit. Shit. Shit.)
"Pope."
"JJ, I--"
"Listen to me, Pope," JJ says, stern and pleading. With a clenched jaw, he lets out an uneasy breath and places a firm hand on Pope's shoulder to ground him. "I know you think I am good--"
The other boy reaches out for his hand then but sadly recoils when JJ pulls it back. "Because you are," Pope insists, sounding so sure that JJ almost allows himself to believe it. "You are good, JJ. That's why I love you."
I love you. I love you. I love you. The words drive him insane. He wishes Pope would stop throwing them around.
The blond's eyes squeeze shut while he shakes his head with an urgency that rejects even the idea of him resembling something good. Something worthy. Something deserving. "But I'm not. I'm not good... Not good enough, anyway," he admits, words coming out harsher than he wants. "I'm pushing my luck just by being your friend, so I'm definitely not good enough to be your boyfriend."
Pope deflates at that, his hands dropping to his sides while his chest aches in a way he's never known. His lip quivers, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes because the rejection of it all hurts. "That's not true, JJ," he says weakly.
"But it is! It is true, Pope. You're gonna go to some fancy-ass college and make something of yourself, alright? And that's fine- that's better than fine... that's great. It's what you should do. And while you're off doing that, I'm gonna be stuck here. Not doing anything nearly as fuckin' important. We're on two completely different paths, man. You're too fucking smart to believe that this," he gestures between them, "could actually work. Because it can't, Pope. It won't. That's why we should just leave it the hell alone."
Pope shakes his head at the speech as he wipes the tears from his eyes profusely.
"It doesn't have to be like that! You can come with me. We can get out of here together," Pope offers, his emotions getting the best of him. When it looks as though JJ is going to reject the idea, he grows desperate. "Or- or- or I don't even have to go. We can stay here--"
The suggestion clearly doesn't help when JJ runs his hands through his hair in frustration. His patience begins to wear thin. "Yes, Pope, you do have to go! You worked hard for it and I'm not gonna be the person who holds you back from getting out of this shithole." He wants to add and say, That's exactly why I won't be with you, but some things are better left unsaid.
"But what about me and you?" Pope questions, voice quiet and scared.
Then JJ drops the bomb.
"It is what it is, you know? Me... You... It's whatever." The way Pope's face falls completely is a punch to the gut.
'Me... You... It's whatever.' It's not the words JJ wants to say to the boy he's been in love with for as long as he can remember. Not really. He takes what he truly wants to say and buries it in the pit of his stomach, hoping it doesn't reach his heart because if it does, he might do something reckless (something JJ-ish as Kie would politely put it) like tell Pope that he's always loved him and that he's waited for a moment like this since forever. Because how could he not? How could he not when it's sweet-forensic pathology obsessed-too smart for his own good-Pope who's so weirdly wonderful and effortlessly remarkable? JJ couldn't help but be hopelessly in love with him.
But there's that voice. That loud and crucial voice that's always there, telling him that he doesn't deserve it. Doesn't deserve good things. Doesn't deserve happiness. Doesn't deserve love. Most days, the voice sounds like his father. On the really bad ones, though, it sounds more like himself. Today is one of the bad days. He hears the voice- his voice. It creeps into his head and poisons the hope. It grows louder and louder and louder until he wants to drown it out with the ocean's waves or a limited dose of affection from his old man. It tells him: You aren't good. You aren't enough. You aren't worth it. You don't deserve it. And JJ believes it.
So, everything he feels for Pope, he buries. Buries it under his skin, letting it flow through his veins like second nature. The feeling never to be cut open or exposed to oxygen where it can be seen by all. He buries it. Deep in the depths of his rib cage to fulfill its purpose of protecting his weakened heart, he can only hope the feelings he feels will one day have a much-needed demise. He buries it. In his fingertips. In his toes. In his smiles. In his eyes. In his laughs. In his words. He buries it. He buries it all and inevitably, he suffocates when it slowly molds into himself, becoming a part of who he is.
It burns in his chest till the flame turns to ash and all that's left in the aftermath of destruction is the knowledge that he's the last person who's worthy of being loved by Pope. Finally, JJ thinks, he knows something that Pope doesn't.
"It'll pass, man, okay?" JJ says after a moment of silence. "Whatever you think you're feeling right now, it will go away."
Pope doesn't respond.
"C'mon, I'll walk you home," JJ adds, hoping to ease the blow of his previous comment.
When he doesn't get a reply, he takes that as an answer and goes to walk again. Defeated, Pope calls out, voice breaking, "That's bullshit."
JJ quickly turns back, shocked. Then wide blue eyes catch sight of teary brown ones and a wave of guilt crashes into the blond's chest harder than it should. For a split second, it strikes that he's the reason Pope is crying and he feels all the worse. He takes a sharp inhale of oxygen and holds it, only releasing it when it can't be held in any longer. JJ almost agrees with Pope because yeah... it is bullshit.
Before he can speak, Pope decides he has more to get off his chest and continues, "You not loving me back is fine but it's not up to you to decide who's good enough and who's not good enough to be my boyfriend. That's my choice to make! Not yours, JJ!"
"I know."
"So stop using that as your reason for rejecting me and just straight up say that you don't like me. Then I'll leave it alone and we can forget this ever happened!"
He goes to do just that but the words catch in his throat along with a lump and suddenly, he can't do it. Pope sees it, sees the pause, and visibly softens. Without another word or hesitation, the smarter of the two destroys the space between them and takes JJ's face in his hands.
"I don't need a love confession, JJ. I don't need you to say or do anything you aren't ready for," he tells him, gently and understanding. He rubs one thumb over JJ's cheekbone and uses the other to trace the outline of his jaw, curiously. His fingertips explore, pressing into the corner of JJ's mouth. Leaning forward, Pope lightly kisses the other boy's cheek before resting their foreheads together. They're so close that when Pope sucks in a shaky breath, he feels JJ's hit his face. "All I need is some sort of confirmation, okay? Just give me something."
The blond leans into the touch, heart thrashing in his chest. His gaze trails from Pope's eyes to his lips. One push forward and he could have this. One push forward and he could have Pope. JJ soaks it all in, admiring the way Pope's hands shake against his skin because he's a bundle of nerves due to their close proximity. Admiring the way his eyes slowly fall shut in anticipation and the way his lips part ever so slightly without him even realizing it. Admiring the way he doesn't push forward because he's giving JJ space to decide what he wants. JJ breathes it in and takes a mental picture to lock away in his heart for later. (He really fucking loves Pope Heyward.)
JJ could have this. The thought itself doesn't seem real. He could have this: could have Pope's gentle words, could have Pope's fingers roaming his jaw out of curiosity, could have Pope's forehead pressed against his, could have Pope's light kisses on his cheek, could have a relationship with the one person he truly loves more than anybody else. He could have it all and then some.
Their lips are only a few inches apart and all he has to do is push forward to capture Pope's lips with his own.
One kiss or three whispered words and JJ could have everything he's longed for since forever.
He almost does it. Almost leans in and presses their lips together. Almost.
But then the voice comes back: You aren't good. You aren't enough. You aren't worth it. You don't deserve it. You don't deserve him.
And JJ believes it. Believes it so strongly that the walls that began to fall down, build themselves back up.
He backs away, blood running cold, reminding himself that he'll only hold Pope back.
"Pope," he says, voice low and made of stone. Pope's eyes flutter open at the change of tone. JJ knows what he has to do. He harshly swallows, forcing down the emotions that try to dig through all the years of suppression. He takes Pope's wrists in his hands, pulls them away from his face, and holds them tight and steady to make sure his point is heard. Then, coldly, he whispers, "I don't love you."
The silence that follows is painful and cruel, leaving the words 'I don't love you' sit in the air surrounding them. It cuts open Pope's heart, exposing every ounce of emotion he feels to JJ. He never knew something could hurt this badly. The tears escape Pope's eyes and fall from him freely, leaving never-ending tracks on his cheeks that trail down his neck. He can't find it within himself to wipe them away.
Pope can't think. All he knows is that it hurts. It really hurts.
In spite of his broken heart, he simply nods and pulls his hands away from JJ's grasp.
He waits. Instead of walking away as he should, Pope stays right in front of the other boy and allows himself to break because he has never felt comfortable breaking in front of anyone else. He takes a desperate look at the blond and searches for something; something that will tell him the opposite of what's just been spoken. He waits. Waits for JJ to tell him he didn't mean it. Pope really hopes he didn't mean it.
He waits and waits and waits until the pain of rejection becomes too much.
One last look of longing and Pope finally lets the words unsettlingly rest in his stomach. JJ doesn't love him. Not like that, at least. And no matter how hard that is on him, Pope has to accept it for what it is. Has to respect what JJ feels. Has to respect what JJ wants. He doesn't try to speak, knowing better than to trust his voice. Instead, he nods again but this time in a way that tells JJ it's okay. That they'll be okay.
Pope doesn't wait this time. He walks away, leaving a piece of himself there with the other.
Under his blank exterior, JJ swears his buried feelings wrap around his heart and squeeze it till he physically can't breathe. He clenches his jaw and doesn't allow any feelings to express themselves up until Pope's back is turned. It's only then when JJ finds himself blinking away tears as he watches Pope leave.
And once he's fully gone, the blue-eyed boy wipes a singular tear that falls from the golden boy's absence.
His feelings are still buried. Blood pumping with secrecy and ribs cracking from baggage, JJ's bones are sore from every word he didn't say.
Despite all that, the voice tells him: You did the right thing.
And all JJ ever wants to do is the right thing.
So, he takes the unbearable ache in his chest and buries it along with everything else...
