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bxthharmon · 4 years

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Never Go Home Again, Pt. XII || JJ Maybank x Reader

Words: 3130

Series Warnings: violence / talking about abuse / toxic relationships / talking about nudes sex and sex tapes / drugs / underage drinking

Pt. Warnings: Guns / blood and violence

Series Summary: A new girl, a shoebox of old memories, a past she’s trying to forget coincide with a hotheaded, but selfless, boy. teenagers getting in way over their heads

Pt. Summary: Chaos catches up, causing trouble for everyone involved

A/N: sorry for the slow updates, but with the event (tysm btw ily) i’ve been busy. i have a few more requests, and i promise im getting to them. anyway! feels weird, only 2 or 3 parts left. tysm for all this support <3

Chapters linked in my masterlist.

“masterlist”

JJ woke up before you. His face felt stiff from the tears he’d shed the night before, and the corners of his eyes were filled with sleep. He rubbed his eyes, phosphenes decorating his mind as he pulled them open. The window was wide open, curtains fluttering in the light breeze and the sun decorating the room with a natural glow. He became aware of the towel thrown over the dresser and the wet clothes hanging in the window sill, the memories of last night returning. He looked down at you.

You were curled up, one of his tops and a pair of his joggers covering your body as you gripped his arm lightly in your sleep. He blinked, admiring the lock of hair falling over your face, the curve of your lashes and the relaxed smile that adorned your sleeping frame. He brushed the hair out of your face and let it fall. He realised that he was in deep. Somewhere across the room, the ping of a phone notification pulled him from his thoughts. He looked up, seeing the bluish light coming from the floor on the other side of the room. He slid his arm from your hold, careful not to wake you as you unconsciously pulled the pillow into your grip instead. He rose from the bed, careful not to let the bed creak as he left you. He padded across the room, picking up the phone from the wooden floorboards.

The phone awoke as he lifted it, a series of fresh messages lining up under the time.

Tyler: hey

Tyler: ik i fucked up with us, but i cant stop thinking abt seeing u when u visited

Tyler: can we try again?

Tyler: ik u said u were seeing someone and dont wanna fuck it up, but i still love u

Tyler: let me know. I miss u

He almost choked, heart beating in his ears as he looked back to your sleeping frame, rising and falling with oblivious breaths. He looked back at the phone, placing it on the dresser softly. He left the room, clicking the door shut as softly as he could, and making his way to the kitchen. He rinsed a mug and put the kettle on, rummaging through the cupboards for the instant coffee granules. He pulled the silver pot from the shelf, peeling the cap off and tapping it on the side of the mug so the granules tumbled in, the dark brown contrasting the light ceramic. He poured the contents of the boiling kettle in, watching the hot water consume the granules and turn brown. He stirred and sipped, hissing as it burnt his tongue. He never had the patience to wait for it to cool down.

He studied the cupboards again, finding no edible food, not trusting the bread after his previous experience. He sipped the coffee again, allowing himself to look back at the closed bedroom door. He wanted to know what happened when you went back, but knew he wouldn’t like the answer. After last night, he knew Tyler was an asshole, and wanted more than anything to fly to California and punch him in the face, but couldn’t understand the text. Thoughts were flashing through his head, ideas rushing to his head. He wondered if he should ask, or leave it and wait for you to tell him. He knew you had no obligation to him, but he also knew that you two had something going on. Whatever that something was. He sighed.

He thought about how he felt when he saw you smile, how much he’d spiralled after your argument, how vulnerable he was around you. It hit him suddenly, an epiphany that took all his air away but made him feel alive, made him feel broken and brilliant all in one moment. He loved you.

Down the hall, on the other side of the door, he heard the bed creak. There was a pause, and then he heard the floorboards moan. Another minute, and he heard the ping of your phone notification. There was another pause, then the door opened and you stood in front of him, hair tousled by sleep and eyes fresh. You smiled at him, reaching out and pulling him in, kissing his temple and stepping away to make your own coffee. His heart pulled, not letting him push you away and reaching out as you left his arms, but not wanting it because of those stupid texts. In that moment, he fights his impulse and decides to wait for you to tell him. Would you tell him?

He draws his attention to you, hopping back onto the counter next to you. He watched you, enamored with the way you moved, the way you brush against him, the way you seem so carefree in the moment. He wants to kiss you, but he knows he won’t until he knows what’s going on.

Faster than he wants to admit, you’ve finished your coffees and Kie and Pope are awake, moving about after leaving their slumber on the pullout couch, and then setting up the pulley for the well. Your mood changes when they’re up. You’re more talkative, brushing over any mention of the night before, helping when you can. You look back at him a couple of times, and each time his heart flutters.

You can feel blisters working on your skin as you help Pope with the winch, the rope burning at your skin in the force of the friction, but you don’t pay it any mind. You finish with the mechanism, stepping away and sitting down next to JJ, passing some witty banter with Kie, and opening a bottle of beer, the cool glass soothing the hot skin on your palms.

“What does it feel like?” Pope asked, watching Kie as she sat in the can hanging from the pulley.

“Feels good.” she confirms, pulling the rope slightly.

“John B’s pulling a Houdini.” JJ stated, putting his own beer down.

“Yeah, where is he?” you asked.

“I got my scholarship interview in the morning.” Pope reminded, “We gotta get this done.”

“Speak of the devil!” JJ grinned as John B strode past you all without so much as a ‘hello’. “Hey! Dude, I put up the entire winch to pull up the gold and everything.”

“No he did not.” You laughed.

“We did that.” Pope said, gesturing between you.

John B ignored you, and Kie called after him as he entered the Chateau. “Okay, that’s it?” you muttered.

“What’s that all about?” Pope asked, walking to you and JJ.

“I was gonna ask you the same question.” JJ said, you and him getting off the hot tub and following him into the Chateau. When you entered, John B was pulling the house apart, searching.

“You alright, man?” Pope asked, “What’s up?”

“What are you looking for?” Kie added.

“Bro, what’s going on, man?” JJ asked, following him as he pulled the gun from under the cushioning on the sofa.

“John B, what do you need the gun for?” You and JJ stepped forwards, both reaching to take the weapon. John B grabbed your shoulders, pushing you over and shoving past JJ as you all yelled for him to chill and talk to you. Pope tried to block his exit.

“What are you, JJ, now?” Pope asked as you and Kie yelled for him to calm down. John B pushed Pope back into the table as you followed him out, asking for him to explain, or calm down. You ran down the steps, the others close behind. He mounted the dirt bike, looking back at the four of you.

“John B, what the hell?” Kie yelled.

“Ward knows about the gold.” John B spoke for the first time. “He killed my dad.”

You ran as far as the dirt track, watching the bike disappear as JJ swore.

“What now, we just go up to the front door and ask, ‘Hey, have you seen John B’?”

The night felt dark, cold, and your boat felt fragile next to the stupidly big boat across the pontoon from you. The shape of the Cameron house was huge and adorned with golden windows on the other side of the lawn.

“Look, he lives in Tannyhill now, it’s plausible.” Kie reasoned, but you could tell she was just grabbing at loose ends. “We can play dumb.”

“Play dumb?” you frowned.

“It’s pretty late.” Pope added.

“Look, I’ve never seen John B like that. We should honestly be going to the cops.” Kie countered.

“The cops? And say what, Kie?” you almost laughed, “‘We’re worried about our friend because he’s going off on a rampage because Ward Cameron killed Big John’? They’re not gonna believe us!”

“Hey, I see Ward.” Pope interrupted you, binoculars up as he watched the house. Kie took the binoculars, checking for herself. “Doesn’t look dead to me, let’s go home.”

“What?” Kie turned, shocked and offended.

“Uh, okay. Obviously Mr Cameron is fine, and even if John B was here, he isn’t now, okay? Plus, I have the biggest, most important moment of my life in six hours.”

“Yeah, well our friend is in trouble.”

“I’m in trouble! Guys, I haven’t been home in three days! My dad’s probably put all my shit on the street by now.”

“Okay, so that’s it? In a time of need you’re just gonna bail? You’re just gonna walk away?”

“Okay, yo, guys.” You spoke from the other side of the boat, “Can we not do this right now?”

“Hey, I have a scholarship interview in the morning.” Pope reminded Kie.

“Okay, well what about John B?” Kie asked.

“Why is it always about John B?” Pope questioned, and you sighed, looking away as Kie looked around, caught off guard.

“It’s not always about John B. You’re so stupid! It would be any of you in this situation.”

“Bullshit!”

“Guys.” JJ tried to stop them.

“This is about friendship!” Kie powered on.

“Bring it down.” said JJ.

“This is about pogues for life!”

“What about forensic pathology, huh?” countered Pope.

“Forensic pathology?” Kie scoffed.

“It’s my life! It’s everything I’ve worked for!”

“That’s your priority?”

“Would you stop with the moral high ground bullshit?”

“Pope, come on.” you cut in.

“No.” he rejected, “No, no. She has no room to talk.” You looked down, knowing you didn’t either. “Where were you when Big John went missing? You weren’t there. You weren’t there for John B. You weren’t there for any of us! Remember your kook year?”

“Dude.” JJ tried, again, to stop the argument.

“Yeah, you forgot about us. Now you feel guilty.”

“Give me a break.” She pushed him, and he staggered but held his ground, you and JJ were up within seconds. “Is that what you need? You need a break? Move!”

You and JJ pulled them away from each other, shouting for them to stop, to cut it out. You held Kie’s shoulders, the both of you breathing heavily. She stared straight ahead, holding eye contact with Pope as JJ looked between them.

“If I’m the one mediating, we’ve hit rock bottom.” JJ sighed. You dropped your hands from Kie’s shoulders. She sat down as you sent Pope to the bow of the ship, sitting down as well.

“Pope, we’ll drop you off.” You said, JJ steering the boat.

You sat, facing away from the group, water washing around your ankles, arms propped up on the wood as you stared at your phone. You were aware of the conversation - the gold was gone - but you weren’t really listening, or paying attention. Your mind was plagued with worries that felt trivial compared with what was going on, but still felt like the world would implode if you didn’t sort them.

Tyler was rejecting your refusals, insisting you humour him. You turned around briefly to look at JJ, who was watching you. You wondered if he had worked out that you’d slept with Tyler, even though you hadn’t mentioned it. But, of course, you hadn’t mentioned it - he couldn’t know.

You broke from your thoughts as Pope came blundering down the path. “Guys!” he halted when he reached you, and you picked your legs up, swinging around to face the group. “Oh, God, I ran all the way here.”

“How was the interview?” you asked.

“Don’t ask.”

“Promising.”

“JB, look, I’m sorry dude. About everything.”

“It’s fine.” John B disregarded.

“But - but I don’t have a lot of time, and I have information that is tactically relevant. So, before I had my interview, my dad said he was going down to the private airstrip to cut palms for Cameron’s big plane. Because it was too heavy, it needed a longer landing strip to take off. So, I’m there sitting in my interview, thinking to myself, ‘Hm, why would Cameron need a longer airstrip to take off? What could be so heavy to weigh it down?’”

“Gold.” JJ turned.

“That’s right.” John B confirmed.

“Exactly! Guys, this is our chance, but it leaves tonight, and we have to go.”

“We can’t give up now.” Kie smiled, jumping down from where she was balanced.

“What’s the plan, big man?” JJ asked.

“We’re gonna steal that shit back.” John B stated.

You smiled, this was going to be a shit show.

“We go in there, guns-a-blazin’, make Ward Cameron beg for mercy, abscond with as much gold as possible, and vámanos, get the hell out of there.” JJ summed up.

“Send that shit right down the intracoastal.” John B added.

“Wait for the weather.” Kie reminded.

“Exit to Cuba.” Pope finalised.

“Cuba?” JJ sounded offended at the idea, “No, man, Xcalak, the jewel of the Yucatan. Lobsters so thick, mangoes, no word for money.”

“I like the sound of that,” you hummed, sitting up from where you lay across the back seats, “Let’s do this shit.”

The VW rattled on for a few hundred feet, John B curving into a break in the thicket, the lot of you leaping out of the car to a wire fence.

“What’s the plan?” Kie asked. “Broad strokes.”

“I don’t think we got that far.” John B admitted, Pope pulled out his binoculars.

“They’re loading up the gold.” Pope pointed out.

John B took the binoculars, watching the scene before him. You were all pressed up to the wire fence, and you could see a car rolling up to the plane. You watched the figures exit, faintly recognisable without the binoculars. John B lowered the black instrument, Kie asking him what was going on.

“It’s Sarah.”

You looked back at the plane. They played out like a scene in a play, little figurines moving around, until Sarah was being dragged onto the plane by the shape that must have been her father. John B disappeared from your side as the engine began to whir, loud enough to be audible from your spot behind the fence. Behind you, a car door slammed, and you shouted for your friend as he started the engine, forcing all of you to step back as he smashed through the gate, JJ’s “Don’t be a hero!” resounding in the air.

Still shouting, the four of you ran through the gap as he accelerated towards the moving plane, your shouts fracturing the air. Upon the realisation that whatever stupid, reckless thing John B was doing couldn’t be stopped, you waited in baited breath. You watched the van swerve in the plane’s path, the screech of the brakes reaching your ears. You heard and watched the second squeal as the plane halted, barely feet away from the pogue.

Somewhere in the distance, you heard the sirens.

“Guys, I can’t get arrested.” Pope spoke, breaking the shocked silence you had been standing in.

“I’m on probation.” JJ added.

“We’re no good if we’re all in jail.” Kie confirmed, and you turned to the three of them.

“You serious?” you almost laughed.

“Y/N,” JJ started.

“Go, if you have to.” You nodded, “I’ll step in if he needs me, God knows what’ll happen.”

Kie and Pope nodded,setting off, but JJ stood. “You can’t-”

“JJ, you said yourself - you’re on probation. But they don’t know I’m here, I’ll be fine.” You smiled, stronger than you felt, “Go.”

He followed your friends, and you stepped back into the trees, the sick feeling in your stomach foreboding a turn of events. The blue and white police car was racing down the runway, and you could almost feel the panic in your friends.

You saw the Sheriff get out, and the exchange that led to Ward’s arrest. You watched her get him on the floor, gun pointed at his face, you heard a bang.

The scene froze for a second, but suddenly time sped up, the Sheriff collapsed, and there was another figure. The gun was pointed at John B. You felt yourself move forwards, but the figures were moving - Sarah’s crumpling onto the floor, Ward standing, John B’s moving to help Sheriff Peterkin. You watched Ward and the new figure. Fuck it.

“John B!” you screamed, and he looked up. He was sprinting towards you as the three Cameron’s started fighting. You jogged, the pair of you breaking into a sprint as you got to the woods, fighting your way through the thicket as more sirens joined the melee. Shots were fired, but they sounded numb to your racing mind. He was slightly ahead of you, faded hoodie flashing as you both ran flat out. Before you registered the road, the horn was honking and John B was rolling over the bonnet of a car. You grabbed his shoulders, pulling him up, the pair of you running as the driver shouted for you.

You needed to find the others.

You ran for a while, slowing to a walk as you discussed where the others would be. The junkyard, you thought.

After five minutes, you stopped, forcing him to prove to you that the blood on his arms was only Peterkin’s, and that he wasn’t injured.

Somewhere above you, there was a plane.

You were walking slowly now, approaching the junkyard. You felt numb, knowing that everything was completely different now. You turned the corner, seeing the three other pogues gathered, Pope taking a hit from JJ’s juul. Weird.

They ran to you, seeing the blood in John B’s hands and your shirt (from your attempts to check his injuries) and immediately began to panic, giving you once overs.

“Who’s blood is that?”

You all ducked behind the clutter to avoid the approaching sirens, allowing yourself a moment to breathe. You glanced at the blonde boy next to you, but as you went to speak, he turned away harshly. What the fuck?

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