Hello again :)

I hope you guys are doing well! It's been so long since I've posted… What's up? How are you doing? You know, other than waiting for season three (im)patiently.

First of all, I would like the thank you for your feedback on my previous story. Your messages are always so heart-warming and sweet it literally makes my heart hurt from happiness (and apparently makes me cheesy, but who cares XD). Thank you! I can't even begin to express how much it means to me.

In my previous one-shot, I mentioned John B's memory that goes a little something like this: "He can still vividly remember the time JJ nearly drowned a few years back when they went surfing during a storm." That's all I'm gonna say in case any of you don't appreciate spoilers, but since some of you requested that I make it into a story (which I was very much hoping you would XD), we find ourselves diving into another whumpy adventure with our beloved JJ and co.

I hope you like it!

P.S. If you're not a fan of cliff-hangers, I suggest you click off before it's too late and come back once the story is fully published. I may or may not be prone to ending chapters in the worst places… just saying :)

Becoming a Starfish

Here's the thing. JJ is by far the best surfer on the cut. Correction – JJ is by far the best surfer in Outer Banks. But in learning anything, you have to fall and get back up and then fall again at least a few times, before you can actually master the art. And it was no different for JJ. Sure, in this case, a big part of it was natural talent, because let's be honest, you could stick that kid on a surfboard when he was two and he probably would've caught a wave with ease.

Okay that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but you get the point. JJ was a natural. Combine that with the fact that he was pretty much left to himself 90 percent of his life and there you have it. A natural DIYed pro surfer.

Sure, he's experienced some serious wipe-outs that would leave normal people wailing in his lifetime, but usually, he would just brush it off like nothing happened (which started to make way more sense to John B once he found out where JJ's random unexplainable bruises that seemed to appear on a regular basis came from). But, you know, casual faceplants, getting the wind knocked out of you by slamming into the ocean a little too hard… No biggy.

Flash forward to today though… his streak is about to be broken.

There's a storm coming, so naturally, JJ and John B decide it's perfectly reasonable to go surfing. Big John conveniently happens to be on one of his mysterious trips, hence why JJ and the marvelous bruise on his temple have invited themselves over to the Chateau a week ago and haven't actually left since. Not that John B's complaining.

Their negotiation about 10 minutes ago went a little something like this:

"Oh! I just had the actual best idea ever!" JJ announced, jumping about 5 feet in the air from where he had been lying on the pull-out.

"Oh no" John B cringed, slowly rising from his position on the floor and shooting JJ one of his I-already-know-this-is-gonna-be-a-bad-idea-but-go-ahead looks. "This is gonna be good."

"We should go surfing!"

For a moment, everything was silent. You know, except for JJ's ear-to-ear smile, which spoke volumes.

"Yup, uh-huh" John B whispered to himself, allowing himself a glance at the perilous clouds on the other side of the window.

"You did NOT just suggest that." Pope, who happened to be on the phone with them, savoring the minutes before the cut went dark and they all lost reception, which was more than likely going to happen at some point during the night, exclaimed in absolute horror.

"Yeah… he did" John B stated, already halfway certain he was gonna find himself in the ocean within the next half an hour.

"I really don't think that's a good idea, guys…" Pope warned. "The waves are absolutely wild, it's crazy windy, and don't even get me started on the low visibility issue…What if one of you guys fal-"

"But did you or did you not mention the incredible waves, Pope?"

"Technically, I said wild and NOT in a good way, but that's besides the poin-…"

"Exactly, Pope! So, are we doing this or are we doing this?!" Again, JJ with the ear-to-ear grin, followed by silence from both of his voices of reason. "I can't hear youuuu," JJ teased, dragging out the y.

"Alright, this is a battle I'm gonna let you take, John B" Pope said, quickly followed by the sound of his chair dragging on the floor. John B couldn't help but visualize him throwing his hands in the air and getting up with such fury, his chair might just leave scratch marks on the floor.

John B opened his mouth to try and talk JJ out of it but seeing the sparkle in his eyes… he just didn't have it in him.

"This is clearly very much a JJ-idea, so… I'll race you to the beach?"

"What?!" Pope squealed from a random spot in his room (where he was undoubtedly doing his nervous pace), before rushing back over to the phone to beg John B to use his brain. "You're supposed to be the reasonable and responsible one out of the two of you! Have you lost your mind and turned into JJ 2.0?!"

"Gee, thanks Pope" JJ murmured, already putting on his shoes.

"To be fair, it would be an honor to be JJ. Anyway, you gonna meet us there or…?"

"Yeah, that's a no. You guys go ahead and drown, while I go and finish this lovely article about the human brain, which – for the record – both of you seem to lack a little bit."

"Well, my dad's spent his entire life trying to accomplish that, so… Touché" JJ whispered to himself, not nearly loud enough for Pope to hear, but loud enough to elicit a cringe from John B. He shrugged innocently and mouthed something in the lines of 'What? It's true...', which John B took as a cue to perform the ba-dum-tss/you've-just-been-burned gesture, making them both laugh.

Pope, who was completely clueless about the slightly dark exchange of commentary on the other end of the line, sighed. "There is no way I'm talking you out of this is there?"

"Oh, come on, dude. You know what my motto is," JJ responded with an unnecessary amount of pride.

"Don't even say it-"

"Stupid things have good outcomes all the time."

"And you said it."

And with that, the conversation was over.

So, here they are – surfboards that are way overdue for a nice wax (seriously, JJ's board could easily be mistaken for a humongous bar of soap) in hands, feet buried in damp sand and faces dripping with cold rain – pure perfection if you asked JJ.

"Ready?" he says, slamming his hands on John B's shoulder.

"Oh, I was born ready."

They both run into the so-called 'wild waves' Baywatch-style. You know, way to elegantly to come off as casual, salty hair floating in slow motion and everything. Okay, maybe not floating, because it's raining, but you get the point.

JJ catches a wave first, absolutely ecstatic that there's not a soul in his way. Seriously, he doesn't even have to pretend he's trying to avoid the other surfers, because there is no one there! This idea was genius! Absolutely genius! He might have to pat himself on his back for this one.

He purposely dives off his board and tries to do a front flip at the same time, succeeding in inhaling a little bit of sea water, but nobody saw that, so it doesn't matter. What doesn't ruin your reputation, counts as a success in his mind.

When his head comes back above water, he sees John B saluting him and screaming "That was awesome!"

"Did you see that?!" he yells back. "Did. You. See. That! That was cool. Was that cool? I know it was cool."

"It was definitely cool. Total pick up move if you ask me. Chicks would dig it."

"Did you just invent a phrase, John B?" JJ says as he paddles over to him.

"I did" John B responds proudly. It's gonna be in the dictionary next year.

"Um…" JJ hums, scrunching his face up.

"Don't crush my dreams, JJ."

"Yeah, sure. No problem. I'm gonna tell Pope to use it in his next essay, so it reaches the ivy league colleges faster. I'd do it, but you know…"

John B catches the next wave, doing a pretty decent job of a tube ride, which ends with him getting absolutely crushed by the wave midway. JJ gets an overwhelming feeling of uneasiness when he goes under but starts laughing hysterically the second John B's head comes above the surface again.

"Dude! What was that? You're supposed to make it out of the wave on the other end, you know?" he teases.

"Yeah, yeah. Says the guy who faceplanted three minutes ago."

"Hey! That's what I call style. You wouldn't know."

John B makes a comical offended face, adding a little bit of a gasp too, which has both of them laughing hysterically once again.

"Okay, smart-ass. See that big wave over there? Put your money where your mouth is and show me how it's done."

JJ's eyes light up the second he spots the said wave. It's giant! Absolutely massive! One of those you-better-not-mess-up-because-you-could-seriously-hurt-yourself-once-hundreds-of-tons-of-water-come-crashing-on-you types of waves. You know?

Normal people, who have a brain and actually use it, would probably weigh their options and decide their life is worth more than surfing that fabulous wave. Naturally, JJ is a master at making good life choices, so naturally, he simply can't say no to that kind of a wave. I mean, do you see it? It's beautiful!

He plasters a grin on his face and paddles out. When he's almost too far away for John B to hear him, he shouts, "Watch and learn, John B! Watch and learn!"

If John B had known, what was about to happen, he wouldn't have encouraged JJ to show off his skills.

If he'd known, what was about to happen, he would've dragged JJ out of the water after that first wave.

Hell, if he'd known, what was about to happen, he probably wouldn't have let JJ leave the Chateau in the first place.

But life has an interesting way of doing things, and so before they know it, trouble finds them.

John B sits on his board, feet dangling somewhere in the dark water beneath him, and watches as JJ keeps paddling. The thought of exactly how low the visibility is and how big of a problem that would be in case something went wrong briefly crosses his mind, but gets interrupted by a howl from JJ, who seems to be enjoying himself in the whitewater waves.

John B watches him duck dive under some of the smaller waves, before turning back towards the beach.

Time to take on the giant.

John B suddenly gets a pit in his stomach. The overwhelming feeling of uneasiness doesn't least very long though, because as soon as JJ braces his hands on the board and gets up, he goes flying. Quite literally. His feet slip and he splashes into the ocean unceremoniously, the board falling directly on top of him, and John B's feeling of uneasiness turns into sickening dread.

Remember how I said JJ's board hasn't been waxed in months and is about as slippery as a bar of soap? Yeah, that becomes a valuable piece of information when you combine that with ocean water, rain, and a huge-ass wave.

He honestly didn't stand a chance. No matter how much of a natural he is…

"Shit" John B curses, already paddling towards the deep waters, which suddenly seem even darker and scarier than before. JJ's disregarded board is floating above the water, constantly getting thrown around by the ongoing waves, but no sign of JJ anywhere.

"Come on, JJ. Come up, come up."

Minutes go by before he reaches

John B's not a particularly religious guy, but right now, he's praying to every single universal force he can think of, begging anyone and everyone that he finds JJ. And quick. He prays that the ankle leash hasn't ripped, he prays that JJ somehow managed to fall just right to not hurt anything, he prays that JJ is just messing with him, casually trying to prove exactly how long he can hold his breath for and enjoying the I'm-absolutely-terrified-and-on-the-brink-of-pure-panic show John B's putting on.

"JJ!" he screams as he paddles closer and closer to the colorful surfboard. As soon as he's close enough, he reaches for where he knows the leash is supposed to be and pulls. He pulls and pulls, almost excited that the leash hasn't ripped, before the world comes crushing down on him again. He just couldn't get a little lucky, could he?

"Damn it!" he curses, allowing himself a quick glance around just in case. Still no sign of JJ.

The panic in his chest is rising and the horrible gut feeling is screaming at him that it's been too long already. He knows JJ can hold his breath for a decent amount of time. But this is different. This time, JJ might not have had time to actually get a good breath in, before he sank. Hell, he might've even inhaled water at impact. Or run out of air. He might've hit his head. Which, now that John B thinks about it, was already hurt from when Luke decided to slam it into a table about a week ago anyway. Same goes for his ribs.

"Not helping, John B. You're not helping" he says to himself. "Hang on, JJ. I'm coming."

He's not sure who he's trying to reassure – JJ or himself. Maybe both. He takes three controlled deep breaths, before diving into the darkness after his best friend.

As soon as he's submerged, he realizes just how freezing cold the water actually is. He didn't notice it before, but now the cold's threatening to give him a brain freeze. Figuratively speaking.

Again – not a good thing considering JJ's currently trying to become a starfish.

Where are you, JJ?

John B's eyes are stinging from the salt and floating sand that keeps getting thrown around by the harsh waves. He can barely make out his own hands in the darkness, let alone his feet. How on Earth is he supposed to find JJ in this?

Their streak of stupid life decisions was already pretty spectacular up until today, but this… this one might just win.

John B keeps swimming in every direction possible, praying that he somehow manages to swim straight into JJ. He doesn't let himself think about just how unlikely that is, considering the ocean covers about 70 percent of the Earth's surface.

He has to find him. He just has to.

His lungs are already burning from the lack of oxygen, and he's been under way less time than JJ.

He knows every second counts, but it won't do either one of them any good if he passes out, so once dark dots start to appear in his vision, he allows himself a quick break to get some air, before going straight back under.

He goes deeper this time.

He knows he's shivering, although he can't say if that's because of fear or how cold the water is. His lungs already feel like they're on fire again and he's starting to feel dizzy, but there's still no sign of JJ.

He's usually not one to cry, but he feels like sobbing just about now.

What's he gonna tell Pope and Kie? What's Luke gonna do when he finds out? How's he gonna live, knowing he drowned because of him? His dad won't even be able to look at him. What's he gonna-

Oh my god.

He thinks he might be dying for half a second, because something just bumped him in the back, and the only logical explanation is that it's a shark. He's about to get eaten. He's sure of it.

And then a hand swims into his line of vison. Followed by an arm.

He whips around so fast! He's shocked he doesn't accidentally inhale any water to be honest. And there he is.

JJ.

He's unconscious and unnaturally still, but it's JJ. It's definitely JJ and not a shark.

His mind goes on overdrive and before he knows it, he slides his left arm under JJ's shoulder, pulling him close to his chest, and exhales whatever air was left in his lungs in order to see which way the bubbles go (because his ears are buzzing and his mind is foggy and he's not entirely sure which way is up at this point).

And then he starts swimming for his life. Or their lives.

The air hitting his lungs again is the best feeling he's ever felt. It takes him a second to catch his breath and spit out the salty water (he chooses to ignore the sand grain all over his face and mouth for now), before he can muster enough energy to flip JJ on his back.

"JJ!" he yells breathlessly, trying to shake him as best as he can, while keeping them both afloat. "JJ, can you hear me? JJ! Wake up, bud!"

He carefully leans JJ's head on his shoulder and rubs his chest with one of his hands.

That's supposed to do the trick, right?

"You gotta wake up, JJ! You hear me?" he says once nothing happens. His mind is overflowing with useless information he accidentally memorized at school and while watching tv shows.

Why can't he remember? Is it F-A-S-T? No, that's the heart attack one. Is it A-B-C or B-C-A or-

CAB!

That's what it is! A yellow cab in his notebook.

Compressions – airway – breaths.

He immediately presses his fingers against the side of JJ's neck. It takes a bit of moving around, but eventually he finds the glorious thump, thump, thump.

Okay, airway's next.

He pulls JJ's head back a little to open his airway and places one of his hands directly in front of his face.

"Come on, JJ" he begs quietly. No luck. He's not breathing. "Damn it. Okay, that's okay. You're gonna be fine, JJ. I promise. I'm gonna get you out."

He pinches JJ's nose, tries his best to feel the momentum of the waves, waits for the right moment and then kicks up a little, so that he can give JJ a rescue breath.

One, two, and down.

"Come on, buddy. You gotta breathe."

One more time. Kick, one, two, and down.

Still nothing.

"Don't do this to me, JJ" he begs.

Kick, one-

JJ's whole body jerks with such force that John B nearly lets go of him. Water spills out of his mouth as he lunges forward and his hands go flailing all over the place, accidentally shoving John B in the ribs.

It's the most beautiful sight John B has ever seen.

"That's it, JJ!" he exclaims. "Cough it out!"

It takes a minute of coughing his lungs up, bit eventually JJ inhales a lungful of air.

Finally.

"You with me, JJ? Can you breathe?" John B asks, keeping a strong grip on JJ's sides.

"Burns" he wheezes, voice as scratchy as if he'd spent the entire weekend screaming his heart out at concerts.

"It burns to breathe?" John B checks, trying to make sure JJ's actually coherent. It takes another few seconds of encouraging, but eventually, he nods. "Okay, I'm guessing that's from your taste-test, so let's try not to do that again. How's your head?"

"Blurry."

"I figured. I don't know what you did to offend your board, but it decided to hit you… We're on one-word sentences for now?"

"Mmm."

"Okay, that's fine. Just make sure you keep breathing, deal?"

"Sounds smart."

"And tell me if anything feels wrong."

John B allows himself to look around for the first time and figure out a game plan on how to get them out of there. He would call for help, but there's not a soul out here, so that's out of the question. JJ starts nodding off just then, so he figures he should try to entertain him. "You know what? You should really start wearing neon bathing suit. Neon yellow is definitely your colour and it would honestly make finding you so much easier."

"Next time" JJ whispers, making himself cough some more.

"We gotta get out of the water. The wind's picking up and I'm pretty sure we learned something about the ocean not being safe during storms in first grade or something."

"No shit."

"You doing okay? Think you can make it to the shore if I help you?"

JJ seems to consider it for a minute. "Boards?"

John B looks around, trying to spot two colorful objects with no luck.

"Umm… Somewhere on their way to Europe, I think. Sorry, bud." He knows JJ's gonna be devastated. That board is his life, and he honestly has no clue how he's gonna keep him from bouncing off the walls without his board. What's he gonna do with all of that energy?

There's no time for that.

He carefully readjusts his grip on JJ and starts swimming back towards the beach. He briefly considers talking about anything, but decides against it as soon as he accidentally sinks and swallows two mouthfuls of deliciously-salty and kinda crunchy (which should concern him, because last time he checked, water was a liquid) water in a row.

He swims for at least a few minutes, barely making any progress with all of the waves and unfortunate water currents, when JJ starts laughing like a maniac.

It scares him so bad, he completely submerges and drinks some water as a souvenir for the third time.

"Man, that was fun!" JJ exclaims as soon as John B comes back up. "Let's do it again!"

"JJ! You're shark bait right now! Literal shark bait!" John B says, trying his best to keep both of their heads above water and failing. "We seriously might wanna get out of the water because we make some new friends, so how about you start using your legs, huh? Or are you gonna try to convince me you have polio again?"

"No. H've br'n d'mage."

"Right" John B smirks, but JJ starts kicking, nevertheless.

"Still with me, JJ?" John B asks after a while, doing his best to let JJ rest, but keep him entertained enough that he doesn't actually fall asleep.

"Can't kill a Pogue, John B."

Hopefully.

They keep going in near silence, John B asking JJ random questions every now and then to keep JJ alert and JJ doing his best to… be JJ?

It's a slow process. (When did they swim that far out? The beach seriously seems to be running away whenever they get too close.) John B has to make sure both of their heads stay above water at all times, while simultaneously keeping an eye on JJ's breathing. Eventually, JJ starts dozing off, so John B has to do most of the work for both of them – which is not easy by the way. By the time they get close to the beach, he can barely catch a breath and his muscles are screaming at him to just give up and die. He's on his last burst of energy, his only motivation the thought of not letting JJ drown, when he suddenly feels hands on his shoulders. Again. For the second time in the last 5 minutes.

Shark?! Or JJ's long-lost twin? Seriously, why do people keep sneaking up on him like that?

He whips his head around like an owl, his neck complaining at the strain, and sees- "Pope?!" Where did he come from? "I thought you weren't coming" he exclaims in confusion.

"Well, it's a good thing that I did, isn't it?" Pope grunts, helping John B drag JJ the rest of the way out of the water.

They all drop into pile a of tangled limbs, which can't be comfortable for any of them, but JJ, who luckily happens to be (mostly) on top, doesn't make an effort to try and roll off.

"JJ? Are you okay, bubba?" John B asks, carefully brushing the blonde (and increasingly bloody) hair strands out of JJ's face in order to meet closed eyes. "Come on, bud, roll over" he says, gently patting his cheek.

JJ doesn't move a muscle, so John B carefully slides him off until he's lying in the recovery position (thank you, Pope, for forcing them both to learn it).

"JJ, are you awake?" he asks, taking note of just how unnatural JJ's breathing seems – really wheezy (no pun intended) and kind of forced, still coming in at random intervals, going from clearly-too-slow to super-fast and back again. "Come on, buddy, open your eyes, so I can make sure your brain's not mushed."

That sets off alarm bells in Pope's head has him shaking JJ's shoulder to try and rouse him in no time. He does succeed in getting him to open his confused eyes though, so that's good.

"Did he get knocked out at all?" Pope asks, directing the question at John B, since JJ doesn't seem to be able to talk just yet, not to mention he actually might not know the answer. He keeps trying to catch JJ's wondering blinking eyes, which is probably why he doesn't miss the brief moment of alertness and the keep-your-mouth-shut look he and John B share. So much about not keeping secrets from the other Pogues. "Did you?!" he squeals in pure panic, voice cracking as if he had just hit puberty.

John B opens his mouth to say something, but Pope's fury beats him to it. "You know what? Don't even bother. You have a guilty look all over your face and JJ keeps looking everywhere but me, so… I can put two and two together."

"Whatever" John B says, offering JJ both of his hands and helping him sit up against his chest. His world goes black for a few seconds, eyes rolling back and head slumping forward, which John B seem to expect, because his gentle hand catches it just in time. ("Interesting," Pope thinks.)

"What are you doing?! You're supposed to check for spinal injury first!"

"He's fine" John B says, readjusting JJ a little, so that his head is resting on his shoulder. His hand occupies itself by rubbing small circles on his heaving chest as if he'd done this a million times. "He helped me swim back and he was walking, so…"

Pope looks bewildered.

"That is not how-"

"I'm fine, Pope" JJ who's been quiet up till now grunts. "Believe me."

"Well, I don't. Sue me" Pope deadpans. He remembers he probably shouldn't be snapping at his more-than-likely-concussed friend right now, so he closes his eyes and takes some deep breaths to calm himself down.

When he opens his eyes again, he realizes that his friends have been having a conversation so quiet that he's absolutely certain neither of them can actually hear what the other person is saying. And yet they both seem to know exactly what they're talking about. He's tempted to say, 'Care to keep me in the loop?' but decides against it. Whatever it is they're doing seems to be calming them down, which can't be a bad thing. So, Pope lets them be.

Eventually, all the energy seems to leave JJ's body and his eyes flutter closed. John B's eyes stay trained on JJ, while Pope notices JJ's squeezing John B's swim trunks in his fists, which is a clear indication that he's in pain.

"Does it hurt to breathe, JJ?" he asks, using the most gentle tone he can master in his slightly panicked and incredibly worried state. JJ doesn't seem to be bothered by the question, although John B suddenly tenses and shoots Pope a look.

He gently rouses JJ and repeats Pope's question, earning a head shake followed by a grimace from JJ. Pope knows it's a lie – he can clearly see the bruises on his chest, although they don't seem as red and angry as new bruises normally would. But to be fair, the visibility is horrendous, so that might not mean anything.

"How much water did you swallow, JJ?" he tries again, making John B bite his lip. That's a tell-tale sign that they're hiding something if he's ever seen one. (It's a well-known fact - JJ's poker face is flawless. Seriously, that guy could lie to the toughest prosecutor and not flinch. John B's on the other hand… sometimes speaks volumes.) So, he tries again. "JJ? Please talk to me, JJ. I just wanna make sure you're okay. How much water did you swallow?"

"I didn't" he grunts through gritted teeth. Even though it's almost pitch black, his face clearly looks a little greener than it should. He suddenly leans to the side and promptly throws up all over the sand.

"Well, your stomach begs to differ" Pope states, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding, but gently rubs JJ's extended leg, nevertheless. "Did you inhale any water too?"

"Pope, give him a break" John B, who's been oddly quiet, warns. Pope wants to oppose but doesn't have it in him. JJ looks absolutely miserable and the last thing he needs is an interrogation. Even if it's well intended. "We both caught some waves, JJ slipped and bumped his head a little, so I helped him out of the water. End of story. That's all you need to know" John B explains, trying to reassure Pope, but succeeds in making his blood boil instead.

"I know that's a lie, John B. What the hell were you two idiots doing?!"

"You know what?" JJ whispers jokingly. "I was really craving some potato chips, so I decided to have some sea water instead."

For a moment, Pope is speechless.

"Are you insane?! I already know that you're an idiot, JJ, but seriously, John B?! Are you insane?!"

"It's fine, Pope" JJ whispers with a touch of guilt in his voice. Pope knows he'd never try to get himself hurt on purpose, he's just really fricking good at making bad decisions.

"It's really not, JJ. You could've died. Both of you."

There really isn't anything any of them can say to that.

So they don't.

"How about I go get my dad and we can go to the-"

"I'm taking him back to the Chateau" John B cuts him off, helping JJ get to his feet. His legs seem to be made of jelly, because John B practically has to hold him up.

Pope sighs and tries to reason with John B again. "I'm telling you, I really think he should get checked by a lifeguard first or somethi-"

"Do you see a lifeguard anywhere, Pope?" John B asks annoyed, spinning in circles with his arms outstretched as if trying to prove a point. His patience is never on its A-game when JJ's hurt, so Pope doesn't take his snappy responses personally. "We're in the middle of a freaking storm! Nobody but us is stupid enough to be outside right now, let alone at the beach."

JJ, who's been picking at the still-bleeding cut on his head absentmindedly, takes a step into an unknown direction and stumbles, which has John B rushing to his aid with light speed.

Pope rolls his eyes. "At least let me help you," he offers, taking one of JJ's arms and sliding it over his shoulder.

They make it back to the Chateau in record time – no, not incredibly fast, but so slow, that the sea snails might've honestly beat them there if there was a race.

JJ seems to be halfway asleep most of the time, way too out of it for Pope's liking, though he decides not to say anything about it for now. He can give both of them a lecture once they're back inside – a really, really long lecture to John B and a rundown version to JJ, because he seems to be very close to passing out, so he probably (hopefully) won't remember much of tonight anyway.

JJ's dragging his feet on the sand, totally uncoordinated, which is quite strange for a kid who's widely known to be one of the best in gym class. (When he wants to be at least.) His head keeps lolling to the side, casually bumping against John B's shoulder every few steps, which makes JJ jerk awake and wince every single time. It's painful to watch.

Pope shoots John B a concerned look about halfway to the Chateau, because it doesn't take a genius to figure out, they should be walking towards the hospital and not the Chateau right now. Once John B doesn't react, he shoots him a death glare, which he completely ignores once again, keeping a never-ending JJ-pep-talk going.

When they finally do reach the Chateau, John B drags JJ straight into the bathroom, turns the shower as hot as it will go and promptly kicks Pope out, stating he might as well leave, because 'they've done this before' (which sounds concerning and Pope will look into as soon as possible), so 'there's no cause for concern'.

JJ's fine after all.

Pope (for lack of better judgement) asks JJ what he wants, and he immediately mumbles something in the lines of 'John B's got this. You should go.', which shouldn't come as a surprise to Pope. After years of knowing JJ, he's noticed a pattern – JJ is all about seeking attention until he (or someone he loves) gets hurt. Then he gets all shy and hedgehog-like. You know? The curl-into-a-ball-and-pretend-nothing's-wrong sort of thing. Unless you're John B. Then you can sometimes fuss over him. But not always.

So, since JJ's clearly hurt and Pope isn't John B, he leaves, though the uneasy feeling of absolute dread keeps him company the whole way home and all throughout the evening.

John B, on the other hand, manages to warm JJ up to the point of not-shivering, wraps him into one of the softest oversized hoodies he owns, disinfects and bandages the cut on his head, puts a bag of frozen peas on it, forces JJ to eat some bread (which may or may not be on its way towards receiving moldy spots), drags him into his bed and piles every blanket he owns on top of both of them.

JJ quite literally passes out seconds after his head hits the pillow (empty bucket nearby just in case his dinner/sea water decide to make a reappearance), John B on the other hand… For a while, he simply lays there, watching JJ sleep. Watching him breathe – something he was afraid JJ would never get to do again mere hours ago. His hand is gently wrapped around JJ's wrist, fingers accidentally keeping an eye on his pulse. Just so he can be sure there actually is one.

Eventually, exhaustion from the adrenaline dump gets the best of him and he falls asleep, not knowing his world is about to flip upside down in just a few hours.

To be continued…

Oops, I did it again. It's not that bad though… right? It's definitely far from being my worst cliff-hanger, so I'm gonna count that as a win XD As you can probably tell, there are going to be (at least) two chapters to this story. That was totally unplanned, but here we are, so… We should all probably know I'm a sucker for cliff-hangers by now. And if not… feel free to imagine Professor McGonagall telling you, "Oh, well, now you know."

I know it's been months since I posted, but I guess some things never change. It's still safe to say that I love reading your reviews about as much as JJ loves sarcasm, so if you feel like leaving me a comment, it will be greatly appreciated. Prompts are also always welcome, although I can't make any promises on when I'm actually going to get to writing them. School simply doesn't agree with my priorities if you know what I mean.

Thank you for reading and I'll see you next time :)

P4L