Hi! This is gonna be a few chapters of whump, basically. I adore Outer Banks a little too much right now, and JJ and John B's friendship is probably my favorite part. So, here goes ...
...
JJ is panting, his arms on fire after hours of surfing. But this is the good kind of pain, the one that masks everything else. Plus, he's safe out here on the water, the only place where his father can't get him.
When he's finally far enough out again, past the shorebreak, he sits up on his board, taking in the view. It's an amazing feeling. The water underneath, the beach in the distance, a calm spreads in him that he only ever experiences out here.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?"
John B appears beside him. Straddling his board, he's looking out toward the beach as well. No one else is out here yet. It's early, during school hours, so Pope and Kie are still being good students, learning, while John B is keeping JJ company. Because of course he knows last night was rough. It's not like there's any hiding the split lip, and honestly? Since it's just John B out here, JJ didn't bother putting on a rash guard to hide the bruises. Not like his friend hasn't seen it all before.
John B smiles at him, and JJ smiles right back. Because it is beautiful. And he's so fucking glad to be out on the water, despite his exhausted arms that'll surely be useless for the next few days.
They sit like that for a while, just taking it all in, and for once he doesn't mind the silence, doesn't feel the need to make anyone laugh.
Then, John B jerks his head in the direction of an oncoming wave.
"You wanna go for another round?"
JJ grins.
"Think your arms can take it, JB?"
His friend laughs, rolling his eyes.
"Hell ye—"
What follows happens so fast that JJ doesn't quite comprehend what's going on until John B has already slipped into the water with a loud splash, his arms struggling up again, trying to grab the board. His wide eyes are staring up at JJ with something like pure panic, and a sudden ripple of fear runs up JJ's spine.
"Bro, what—"
Despite not knowing what's going on he lets himself roll off his board to see if John B needs help. Maybe he has a cramp or … (No, that doesn't make sense. They've all had cramps before, and it doesn't ever look like this …)
As JJ's tired arms plow through the water, trying to get to his friend, he sees John B bob up before he gets pulled into the depth below so abruptly that JJ's breath catches. A second later, the water turns an awful shade of pink, and it's then that JJ finally realizes what's going on.
Cold panic grips him.
Somehow a shark has found its way this close to their beach, and it's taken a bite out of his best friend. JJ doesn't think. He dives into the water, trying to see. The ocean is a whirl of foam and bubbles around him, until he can just so make out John B's wild curls, mouth open in a silent scream as the large, lithe fish has its teeth clamped into his leg.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck …
JJ's heart is thumping harder than it's ever done before. Not even the fear of his own dad has ever made him feel like this, the adrenaline almost making his vision grow black.
But John B needs him, so he pulls himself together and dives down deeper, tugging at his friend, who's now shaking his head at him, his lips forming a frantic "No."
JJ's running out of air, buoyancy pushing him up, and when John B shakes him off, JJ finds himself shooting up toward the surface and taking a gasping breath, his ears ringing.
John B's head comes back up soon after, and for a moment, relief washes over JJ. Maybe it's over.
But then John B starts screaming, screaming so desperately that JJ's blood curdles.
"It's a fucking shark, JJ! Get on your board," John B manages to choke out eventually, but JJ can't do that. He can't just turn his back on his best friend and let him get eaten alive. He has to do something. He has to get him out of here. Thinking on the spot, he swims over to where he sees John B's board floating idly in the waves, closer than his own. He pulls himself up on it, his arms shaking with the strain. Then he puts all his strength into reaching his friend.
"JJ, go!"
"Hang in there, bro! Almost there! If it comes for you again, you gotta try and punch it in the nose!" he yells as John B throws his head back, trying to kick out at whatever is underneath him.
"Don't!" John B shakes his head, imploring JJ to stay the hell away. But of course he's not listening. He's with his friend in seconds, feeling an eerie boiling underneath the water where the shark is still not letting up.
JJ stares at John B briefly, his poor friend barely able to keep himself steady and above water as the beast keeps tearing at him.
"It's gonna rip my leg off!" There's a desperate disbelief visible in John B's features, and following a sudden impulse, JJ dives down. John B keeps yelling out for him from above, but soon the sound gets too muffled and JJ finds himself in the middle of a cauldron.
He's either going to die down here himself or save John B. It's one or the other, and right now, he has no fucking idea what it'll be.
As his vision sharpens the slightest bit, he's finally able to make out the blurry shape of the large fish, its terrible jaws embedded in John B's leg right above the knee. How his friend is able to withstand that, how he hasn't passed out yet, is beyond JJ.
Not that he has time to contemplate the thought. Quickly, he makes a fist and slams it right against the shark's sensitive nose. Instantly, the animal lets go of John B, and JJ screams out his victory, bubbles rising out of his mouth.
Then, pushing himself back above water, he swims closer to John B, grabs him by the waist and pulls him up.
"Come on, man," he hisses when his head is back above water. "We gotta get the hell outta here."
"Shit …" A low groan escapes John B. He's barely able to help JJ as he pushes him up onto his board. "Get … out of the water, J!"
"In a sec, bro. Just, let's get you up here first."
"JJ, there's a fucking shark in the water …"
"Shut up, John B, okay? I know that, alright? I know that." And he does.
He shoves John B up, first one leg, then the other, grimacing when his friend yells out again at the rough touch. There's so much blood—and a good chunk of flesh missing. JJ gags, unable to catch himself.
"Fuck," it escapes him. "Part of you is literally fish food now, bro." He grins at John B, his friend's wide eyes staring at him in a mix of pain and panic, but there's a hint of disbelieving amusement in his expression for a second, too, and JJ'll take it. It gives him hope.
"Let's make sure the same doesn't happen to you," John B presses out before a string of curses leaves his mouth and he clutches the board hard to stay on top of it, but probably also to fight the pain.
JJ is holding on with one hand and swims over to his own board, which has traveled further away.
"Don't bleed out on me, bro, okay?" he says, cursing under his breath because he doesn't know what the hell he should do. Blood is seeping from John B's leg at an alarming rate, and his friend's face is a weird pasty color that makes his freckles stand out more than they ever have. They'll need to stop the bleeding somehow. He needs to get John B back to the beach. But his board is still so far away.
Fuck it. Maybe he should cut his losses and just swim back, pushing John B to shore.
"JJ, watch out!"
He already knows John B's warning comes too late the instant he hears his friend's panicked voice call out. Still, he whirls around, trying to brace himself for the inevitable, for impact, then freezes as he sees a torpedo of gray muscle shooting toward him.
Oh fuck.
Trying to shield himself, JJ shoves the board with his friend away, hoping the shark and the waves won't jostle John B off. But then he can't really hope or think anymore, because the animal is so fucking close. Curling both hands into fists, he tries to hit the fish on its sensitive nose, but the water is going crazy around him, and the shark too fucking fast and muscular, and after hitting it once, JJ loses all sense of direction as the shark bumps into his side with full force.
The impact rips all air out of his lungs, stunning him. Bubbles rise all around him, a surge pulling him one way, a rolling wave another. He doesn't know which way is up or down anymore. His lungs are burning, in need of oxygen, and he struggles to propel himself upward as best as he can, shooting out of the water to take a gulping breath of air. John B is just a few feet away, yelling something, but all JJ can hear is a loud roaring and then—
A searing white pain shoots into his arm with such force that it's crushing him. All of him wants to give up then, curl into a ball and sink down into the depth. But for one brief moment before the water swallows him, his gaze meets John B's again and his panicked pleading look somehow stays with JJ even as he goes down down down, and with a last effort, he throws as many punches as he can, barely registering when the shark finally, finally lets go of him and swims away.
He knows he needs to be fast if he wants to get away. He needs to push himself up and swim to the surface if he wants to live. (Does he?) If he wants to be able to help John B. (He really fucking does.) But the water has turned into a sluggish mass, and his brain isn't quite functioning anymore. He swallows water as he takes a breath too early, watching as his own blood colors the water around him.
Everything is pain, just that one sensation, worse than anything his dad has ever done to him. Forgotten are the stupid bruises on his abdomen. They're nothing now.
What the hell even happened?
The shark's gotten to him, too, that's what. As the pain in his arm turns into a throbbing pulse, he finally manages to get his head back above water, coughing and coughing while he's trying to stay afloat.
"JJ! Bro, you alright? Fuck, oh fuck …"
From somewhere, hands come up to grab him, hold him, and he yells out as they graze his rib cage, only now registering that the shark's gotten him pretty good there too. His entire right side is a mess of blood and pain.
Looking up, he stares right into John B's wide eyes.
"Sorry, bro," he chokes out, "I was…" Yeah, what? "I think I fucked up …"
He grins a bloody grin up at John B, but his friend doesn't reciprocate the expression.
Fuck. Everything hurts. He's so cold all of a sudden. But he needs to get John B back to shore, he remembers that now. So he struggles to get in a position where he can maybe push the stupid surfboard again, only to be gently reprimanded.
"No, JJ. Easy, man. Easy… let's… stop. We need to get you outta the water before it comes back. We gotta get your board …"
It. The shark …
A shiver rakes his frame as John B tries to pull him up. It hurts too bad.
"I can't." A strange sobbing noise makes its way out of him. He almost wants to apologize for it, berating himself for being unable to pull himself together.
"You have to. Come on, bro. We'll do it together and then we'll get the hell out of here."
Heaving in ragged breaths, JJ coughs again, his head falling on John B's board, and he tries to cling to it with the one arm that'll still obey him, while John B keeps holding on to him desperately.
...
John B takes a shuddering breath.
"Okay," he mutters. "Okay. I gotchu, JJ. I gotchu, bro."
Does he, though? His arms are shaking with the strain of keeping JJ from slipping into the water. His leg is killing him—probably quite literally going by the amount of blood seeping out of it and into the ocean. And he's not the only one bleeding anymore. JJ … John B clenches his teeth, unable to look at his bro's torn open side. If he's extra lucky, all their blood mixed together will attract other sharks or guide just the one back to their position. He better hurry the hell up. He needs to get JJ out of the water.
"We should probably take a break from surfing for a while, huh, JJ?"
His attempt at humor falls on deaf ears, not that that's surprising. Poor JJ is looking worse than he's ever seen him before, and that's saying something because Luke Maybank treats his son like a fucking punching bag. "Come on, man, talk to me."
When JJ remains too quiet, desperation takes over again, and John B has to force himself to take a few deep breaths. In and out, not looking at anything for a moment or two. Eventually, he gets himself enough under control again that he can think.
Licking his lips, he risks a glance down his leg, trying not to look too closely for fear of passing out. JJ relies on him after all, so he can't afford to lose consciousness. —Which also means he needs to do something about JJ's and his bleeding.
With a shaky hand he pulls out the straps of his short's waistband, then uses them as a tourniquet of sorts for his mangled leg, gritting his teeth as he goes about his work. Once done, he leans over and does the same for JJ. Except, it's not easy to bind off the arm since the shoulder is a mess, too. Bile rises in his throat at the sight, and he clenches his jaw even harder to keep it together.
JJ gives a soft moan under the touch, the only indication that he's even still alive.
"Hey, JJ … Talk to me, man. JJ?"
But there's no answer. John B tries not to despair. At least they haven't been attacked again, which is good, because JJ is still half in the water. He tries to pull him up even higher, until the board begins to shake dangerously. Then he uses his free arm to steer them toward JJ's abandoned surfboard, which is obliviously bobbing in the waves not too far from where they are. Still, it takes him forever to reach it. By the time they finally make it over there, JJ's eyes have glazed over and his breaths are coming in short, alarming bursts. The searing feeling in John B's own leg has taken up a prominent spot in his consciousness, making it hard to focus.
"Gotta get you on the board, JJ," he says, gently slapping his best friend's cheek when he doesn't get a reaction. "Come on, man. Help me here."
Finally, JJ lifts his head, the small motion visibly exhausting him, and John B tightens his grip on him, his face scrunching up at seeing JJ like this. Looking around him, he makes sure there's no traitorous motion underneath the water. He doesn't trust the eerie calm. That shark is probably still doing its rounds, biding its time. Scanning the horizon next, he hopes to see some motion there, maybe Kie and Pope are already out to join them, or some other random beach walkers. Hell, he'd even take some stupid Kooks right about now.
But he's out of luck. The beach looks deserted. So he tries to steal himself for this next part as best as he can. He'll have to get JJ up on his surfboard, and he knows it's not going to be easy or pretty.
"JJ. Hey." He nudges him, just a little, panicking again when the boy barely reacts. JJ is shaking, though, so hard that his teeth are chattering, and only once he's noticed that does John B realize he's shaking just as much.
Shock.
Fuck. They really need to get out of the water.
"You gotta help me out, man. I can't do this alone."
Holding onto JJ's surfboard with one hand, John B grabs him by his left arm—the one that doesn't look like minced meat—and pulls at it.
"JJ, come on. I'll try and help you up, but I need you to work with me. Please, JJ. Please ..."
...
JJ looks up, the pure desperation in John B's tone making him a little more alert again.
"K," he manages, although that's a complete lie and they both know it. He's unable to move even one fucking muscle in his damn body. But for John B, he'll try anyways. Swallowing down any attempt at complaining—even though he really feels like it—he smiles a crooked smile up at his best friend. His throat feels raw from the salt water he ingested earlier and then violently coughed out. His arm and side feel like they aren't quite attached anymore, and he's so fucking cold. He really wants to pull a Jack Dawson and let go and be done with this shit. (And, why yes, that's a fucking Titanic reference. Just don't tell John B.)
But he can't do that. Heaving in a breath, he therefore forces himself to look John B directly in the eyes and try to convey determination. There's so much worry in his friend's gaze, panic, and pain that JJ knows he can't give up on him. He can't just leave him to figure this out on his own, or worse, die out here alongside JJ. So he forces himself to lift his head and give the smallest of nods. Better than nothing.
"'K," he murmurs again, then lets his gaze wander, trying to gauge how far away the surfboard is. Two or three swim strokes, perhaps? Yeah, he won't be able to do that, not even just one; he'll have to try and keep afloat long enough to be able to grab and hold onto his surfboard, and go from there. At least that way John B will have more room again, and a better chance to steer his board toward the beach. The beach that suddenly seems so much further away ...
Closing his eyes, he uses his left arm to propel himself forward, a half jump of sorts that thankfully lets him grapple with the other board before he has a chance to go under.
"JJ! What the fuck, man?!" John B's panic-laced holler sounds almost shrill. A second later, his friend is in the water with him, pulling him up at the same moment JJ realizes he can't hold on anymore. He'd have sunken like a fucking rock and drowned.
"Don't do that, man. What the fuck was that?"
"'M sorry," he slurs, trying to grin at John B. But he's not sorry, not really. It even feels kind of nice to be able to lean his head against his friend, feel a warm body close to his own too cold one. He's not alone, at least. He's not alone ...
"Pull yourself up. I'll try and get your legs," John B says, pulling him back before he can drift off into a spiral of weird thoughts, and he tries to, he really does, but there's not a speck of strength left in him now.
"Fuck, JJ, please. You gotta get up there …"
JJ sighs, his breath leaving him in short, exhausted bursts, but John B keeps pleading with him through real, actual sobs, and something about that just doesn't seem okay at all. John B rarely ever cries like that, so JJ finally manages to harness his last bit of survival instinct and begins heaving himself up onto his board one inch at a time.
John B pushes him simultaneously, thankfully avoiding JJ's burning arm and shoulder. And somehow—he has no idea how—he eventually makes it all the way up, his raw skin scraping over the rough board. The pain in his body is mercilessly pulsing as he collapses gracelessly, his cheek connecting with the cool surface.
"You're good, man. You made it. We'll… we'll get you outta here now, yeah?"
JJ chuckles, the sound breaking off at the end. "How?" is all he can ask, not expecting an answer, not really expecting anything anymore. He's so done. So cold …
"I'll get us to shore, somehow. You just … hang in there. But you need to stay awake, alright? Come on, JJ. JJ."
It's so difficult to focus, to listen. The water is so close, sloshing around him, lulling him down a dark spiral, the beach slowly fading away, John B's voice …
"JJ!"
A slap against his cheek makes him blink. John B's face is right above him, or maybe beside him, his sense of direction is kind of screwed. Frowning, he tries to pull himself up a little, failing miserably. The touch of his best friend's hand against his back feels strangely nice and warm, and he almost comments on that, a half-smile spreading on his face. But no words will come and he's so exhausted—
"Bro. JJ! Don't pussy out on me now, man, you can't do that. You can't ..."
"Leave me alone, John B. So tired …"
"Fuck, no. JJ."
He tries to turn his head, watching John B's one arm dipping in and out of the water, the other … clutching him. As JJ looks on, his gaze begins to blur over, and he blinks, once, twice.
This is almost … nice. He's on the water, John B is with him … He isn't even all that cold anymore. The sun on his back feels kinda good. Hot …
"Stay with me, man. JJ. Look at me … JJ!"