Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A few weeks before the lockdown

JJ was walking home from John B’s place, where he’d been staying for the past week and a half. It was getting harder to ignore the reality that he needed to go home. He needed a fresh set of clothes, and he couldn’t avoid checking in on his dad, making sure he hadn’t overdosed or something.

As JJ turned onto his street, he saw her. At first, she was just some woman—maybe in her 30s, possibly early 40s—standing on the front porch of his house, one hand on the doorknob like she owned the place.

“Who the hell are you?” JJ called out, his voice sharp as he walked toward the door but stopped short of the steps.

The woman turned, a deep frown settling on her face as she rolled her eyes.

“I don’t see any reason why I should tell you,” she replied coldly, her tone dripping with indifference. “I’m just minding my business, I can go into my own house without telling you.”

JJ blinked, his confusion twisting into anger.

“Yours? That ain’t yours.” JJ pointed toward the yellow house in front of him, its paint peeling and flaking from years of neglect.

Before she could answer, the door creaked open, and Luke stepped out, his gruff voice cutting through the tension. “The hell’s going on out here?”

Veronica didn’t miss a beat. She turned to Luke, leaning into him with an exaggerated look of distress. “This boy here has been screaming at me, telling me I’m not allowed to go into the house.” As if on cue, a couple of tears slid down her face. JJ could tell they were fake.

“That true, boy?” Luke asked, his bloodshot eyes narrowing as they turned to JJ. Of course, he believed her. Why wouldn’t he?

“No, Dad,” JJ said quickly, trying to keep his voice steady. “I didn’t yell at her. I just asked who she was.”

Veronica’s expression shifted slightly, her eyes flashing with something cruel as she realized who he was. This was Luke’s son—the “defiant little bastard” she heard so much about.

“Is this how you let your son talk to people, Luke?” she said, her voice laced with accusation as she wiped away a tear. “He’s calling me a liar.”

JJ barely had time to react before Luke’s rough hand grabbed his wrist and yanked him up the steps and through the doorway.

“Come on,” Luke barked, dragging JJ inside.

Once in the narrow hallway, JJ stumbled back, his shoulder hitting the wall. Before he could defend himself, Luke was in his face, spit flying as he shouted.

“You think you can lie to me, boy? You trying to drive her away too just like you did with your whore of a mother?”

The slap came fast, snapping JJ’s head to the side. His cheek stung, but he forced himself to look back at his father, defiant even as his face burned.

“I didn’t lie, Dad. She...”

Another slap cut him off, this one harder, followed by another. After the fourth slap JJ was thrown to the floor his fathers gruff hands on him. He barely had time to register the taste of blood before Luke’s boot connected with his ribs, forcing the air from his lungs. JJ grunted, curling in on himself.

“You start showing her respect, or I’ll kick you out of this house. You hear me?” Luke’s voice boomed as his heavy steps carried away from JJ towards the couch.

JJ squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, just long enough to try to collect himself. He tried to sit up, but another sharp kick to his side stopped him cold. His eyes shot open, and when he looked up, his eyes locked with hers.

Veronica stood there, watching him, not with pity but with satisfaction. “Looks like we’ve learned who’s in charge here,” she said. Her lips curled into a smirk as she stepped toward the couch, her heels clicking against the scuffed wooden floor.

JJ’s stomach churned. He wanted to puke. He’d thought life with Luke couldn’t get much worse, but this? This was a whole new level. Now, he didn’t just have an audience when he got his ass beat; he had someone actively making things worse.

By the time JJ made it to his room, he could hear Luke and Veronica laughing softly from the living room. JJ slammed the door behind him and sank down onto his bed, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress as if trying to hold on to something solid. The springs creaked beneath him, pressing uncomfortably into his back as he laid down, but he didn’t care. He just needed a minute to think, to breathe.

He stared up at the ceiling, the dull hum of the house surrounding him. His mind was a swirl of frustration, confusion, and anger. He didn’t know how much longer he could handle this.

Then, from the living room, he heard them—Luke and Veronica. Their laughter cut through the silence, too loud and too close. JJ could hear the sounds of sloppy kissing, the couch squeaking with every shift of their bodies. It was as if it was happening just inches away, an invasion of every ounce of his personal space.

JJ threw a pillow over his head in an attempt to block it out, to drown out the noise. But it didn't help. The sound of their kissing, the muffled moans and his father's grunts, still seeped through. He could hear Veronica’s voice too, sweet and playful, and it made him sick. She was all fake charm, all sweet words to Luke, but he knew better. He could see right through her.

His fists clenched at his sides. What the hell did he do to deserve this life?

Then things spiraled for the worse as the lockdown hit.

JJ was at John B’s place when they heard the news from the radio. The announcer’s voice was crackling through the speakers, outlining the new rules. Kildare County had implemented strict lockdown measures following orders from the state: no one was allowed outside their house past 9 p.m. unless they were on their way to or from work, and even that had to be proven. During the day, leaving the house was only permitted for essential travel—like going to or from work or school—and that required proof as well. And if you were caught outside without a valid reason, you’d be sent home with a warning. To top it all off, anyone showing signs of illness was immediately sent home. No exceptions.

John B’s face twisted in frustration. “The hell is that?” he grumbled, slamming his hand against the couch arm. He couldn’t even go out to surf anymore. But then his eyes shifted to JJ, and his expression softened. JJ was sitting there, completely still, his face pale and buried in his hands.

John B spoke, his voice softer now. “Hey, JJ, don’t worry. We’ll sneak out. You don’t have to stay there the entire time, alright?”

JJ didn’t respond immediately. He just shook his head, the weight of the situation hitting him harder than ever. "I'm gonna die, man," he muttered as he processed the news. The lockdown made everything worse. It wasn’t just the isolation—it was the feeling of being trapped. Stuck in his house. Stuck with his father. Stuck with Veronica.

The Kildare County rules had turned everything upside down. The county wasn’t just enforcing strict measures; they were suffocating people. JJ couldn’t even go outside to clear his head without someone questioning him. He hated the rules, and he hated how powerless it made him feel. He hated the idea that the world had become so small, and he couldn’t escape.

John B saw the despair in JJ’s eyes, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to help. “No, JJ, you won’t die,” he said, trying to offer some comfort. “We’ll figure it out.” John B knew about Veronica, how she had just appeared out of nowhere and latched onto Luke. How she made JJ’s already tough life even worse.

JJ sighed and shook his head again, the tension in his shoulders making him look like he was carrying the weight of the world. “No, man. Shoupe’s already on my ass. He’s gonna be a damn hawk on me.” JJ stood up, running a hand through his hair. “See you in school, I guess,” he said, his voice flat and defeated. JJ’s eyes darted to the door. The lockdown had already begun, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he’d get caught if he stayed out too long. He decided it was best to just get it over with.

“JJ, please! Please promise you won’t do anything stupid. Don’t—don’t get yourself hurt, man,” John B’s voice was pleading now, desperation creeping into his words. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing his best friend. Not now, not like this.

JJ gave a sad smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll try,” he said, but there was an edge of hopelessness in his voice. “No promises, though.” He cursed under his breath, realizing that it was Friday. He wouldn’t see John B until Monday, and even then, it wouldn’t be easy. They couldn’t hang out legally, at least not without risking getting caught. The lockdown had taken away so much of their freedom already, and things felt even more suffocating now.

John B watched as JJ turned and headed for the door, feeling a knot form in his stomach. He wanted to do something, anything to help his friend. But right now, all he could do was watch him walk away. The silence that followed felt too loud, like it echoed in the space between them. The weight of the world seemed to be pressing down on both of them.

JJ stepped outside, the cool air hitting him like a slap in the face. It didn’t feel like freedom—it felt like another cage. The streets were empty, the silence oppressive, broken only by the distant sound of sirens and the occasional car passing by. He knew he had to get back home before it was too late. But as he walked down the street, he couldn’t shake the feeling that things were spiraling out of control.

That night, when JJ got home, he barely slept. The air in the house felt suffocating, as though the walls were closing in around him. The faint hum of the refrigerator was the only sound that broke the silence, and even that felt too loud in the stillness of the night. He tossed and turned, unable to find any comfort in his bed. His thoughts kept racing, spiraling out of control.

What was he supposed to do now? The world was shutting down, and he was stuck at the worst possible place he could be. He had no idea how long this lockdown was going to last— a week, a month, a year? He had no clue. And that was the worst part. The uncertainty gnawed at him like a constant, relentless weight on his chest.

Chapter Text

That next morning, JJ found himself pacing around the small, cramped living room. It felt like the walls were closing in on him, pressing in with each minute that ticked by. Luke was in the kitchen, banging around, clearly annoyed by something. Veronica was in the other room, doing whatever she did to keep up the illusion of being the perfect girlfriend. JJ hated it. He hated her. He hated that she was here, that she was part of his life now.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door. His heart skipped a beat, and his stomach tightened. Luke opened the door, and JJ heard a muffled conversation. He peeked around the corner, his eyes widening when he saw a police officer standing at the doorway.

“Everything alright in here?” the officer asked, his eyes scanning the room suspiciously.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Luke said, trying to sound convincing, but there was an edge to his voice. “Just trying to get through this whole mess like everyone else.”

The officer nodded slowly but didn’t leave. “I need to ask if anyone here is working or attending school. We’ve got to make sure everyone’s sticking to the lockdown rules.”

"I work at the gas station," Luke said after a beat, his voice firm but slightly shaken. "JJ’s at school.” Luke turned to JJ. “You work now, or did you get your ass fired?” he asked, not paying attention to the officer’s presence.

“Just school,” JJ replied shortly, keeping his tone neutral. He had been working for years—mowing lawns, cleaning pools, doing whatever odd jobs he could find. But with the pandemic, no one wanted him around anymore, acting like he was some rabid dog or something.

Luke just nodded and turned to the officer again. “And Veronica stays at home.”

The officer nodded again, but before he could leave, his gaze shifted toward JJ. His eyes narrowed, and he looked him up and down.

"Well, you’d better make sure that one is staying inside unless he got a good reason to be out. At that age, they’re the hardest to maintain,” the officer warned, his tone clipped. “We’re all on high alert, and we don’t want anyone breaking the rules.”

“I’ll see to it,” Luke responded, his voice curt as he stepped closer to the door.

The officer left, but the tension in the room didn’t disappear. Luke closed the door with a sharp snap, his expression hard as he turned back to JJ.

"You’re lucky I’m even letting you stay here" Luke muttered, his eyes narrowing as he looked at his son

JJ’s chest tightened. He wanted to argue, wanted to shout, to let all the frustration and anger spill out. But he didn’t. He just stood there, feeling the suffocating weight of everything around him. This lockdown was bullshit, a cruel joke that was only making everything worse.

“Yeah,” JJ muttered, his voice low. “Lucky me.”

Luke's glare lingered on JJ for a moment longer before he turned and stalked off into the living room, muttering something under his breath. JJ clenched his fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. The pressure building inside him felt like a volcano ready to erupt, but he forced himself to stay silent. He couldn’t risk provoking Luke, not now, not when Veronica was lurking nearby, ready to twist any situation to her advantage. JJ walked to his room slamming the door in the process.

From the other room, he could hear Veronica’s voice, sweet and syrupy. “What was that all about?” she asked, stepping into the living room, her false concern plastered across her face.

“Just making sure everyone’s following the rules,” Luke replied, grabbing a beer from the fridge and cracking it open. “Same old bullshit.”

Inside, JJ paced back and forth, his mind racing. The lockdown rules were bad enough, but being stuck in this house with Luke and Veronica was unbearable. The walls felt like they were closing in, suffocating him. He flopped down onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to drown out the sound of Luke and Veronica’s voices drifting through the walls.

He couldn’t go to John B’s, not with the cops patrolling the streets and the new rules in place. School was the only place he could escape to, but even that was a temporary reprieve. He hated school, but it was better than this—better than being here, trapped with no way out.

JJ sat up and grabbed his phone. His thumb hovered over the screen, debating whether to text John B. He needed to talk to someone, anyone, who wasn’t a part of this hellhole. But what could he say? He couldn’t even put into words how trapped he felt.

JJ picked up his phone from the nightstand, typing quickly to send a heads-up. If the cops started making rounds, he should be warning John B. Big John was back from another trip to Charleston, but JJ figured he'd be too buried in his treasure-hunting obsession to notice any doorbell ringing.

JJ: Hey man, cops were just here. Have they been at yours yet?

John B’s reply came almost instantly, he was probably just as bored as JJ.

John B: Nah, not yet. What’d they want?

JJ: Wanted to make sure we stick to the bullshit rules. Asked if we worked or went to school and stuff. Doubt they’re doing the same on Figure 8.

John B: Probably not. Rich kids always get away with everything. Meanwhile, we’re treated like the virus itself.

Jj: Exactly

John B: How’re you, though? Not dead yet?

JJ: Nah, man. This place is driving me insane. Dad’s on a warpath, and Veronica’s making it worse.

John B: That’s messed up. You need to get out of there, dude. Just sneak over to mine.

JJ: I wish. But my dad’s watching me like a hawk, and the cops are out everywhere. Plus, Veronica would rat me out in a second.

John B: Man, I hate that chick. You don't deserve to be stuck with them.

JJ: Tell me about it. She’s got my dad wrapped around her finger and keeps trying to get me in trouble.

John B: That’s so messed up. Look, if you need anything—food, whatever—just say the word. I’ll figure something out.

JJ: Thanks, man. I don’t even know how much more of this I can take.

Just as JJ was about to type another message, Luke’s voice sliced through the stillness, sharp and commanding.

“JJ!”

His stomach dropped. He quickly sent off one last message.

JJ: I gotta go, man. See you in school on Monday.

Sliding the phone onto the bed, JJ stood and made his way to the living room, bracing himself for whatever was about to come next.

JJ stepped into the living room, his heart sinking as he took in the scene. Luke was sprawled on the couch, a beer in his hand, his face already red with irritation. Veronica stood in the kitchen, one hand on her hip and a smug smile tugging at her lips. She looked like a cat that had just cornered a mouse.

“Are you just gonna hide in your room all day?” Luke asked, his voice dripping with anger, frustration radiating off him.

“If I’m stuck here spending money on you, you might as well do something useful,” he added, pointing at the cluttered table covered in scattered motor parts and tools.

“Fix that one. Dale Zeasey expects it to be done by tomorrow for his yacht,” Luke sneered, a challenge gleaming in his eyes.

JJ walked over to the table, his shoulders tense. “Okay,” he said quietly, not wanting to provoke his father. With nowhere to escape to, he figured it was better to comply than to escalate things.

“Good,” Luke muttered, turning on the TV and kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

Meanwhile, Veronica moved around in the kitchen, busying herself with dinner. She wore the air of the perfect girlfriend, but her occasional glances toward JJ betrayed her true nature—watchful, calculating, and ready to pounce at the slightest mistake.

30 minutes pass by and as JJ tightened the last bolt on the motor, he straightened up, wiping his greasy hands on a rag. The table was a mess, but the motor looked good—better than when it had arrived. He allowed himself a small moment of pride. At least he’d gotten something right today.

Luke glanced over from the couch, his eyes narrowing. "You done already?"

JJ nodded, tossing the rag onto the table. "Yeah, it’s ready to go."

Luke didn’t bother getting up. He just waved his hand dismissively. "Good. Put it out back, and don’t mess with it again. If it doesn’t work, it’s on you."

JJ nodded again and carefully lifted the motor, carrying it to the back porch. The air outside was cooler, less suffocating than inside. He took a deep breath, letting the tension in his chest ease slightly. He wanted to stay out here, away from the house and everything inside it, but he knew better. Luke wouldn’t let him stay out for long, and Veronica would find some excuse to drag him back in.

As he stepped back into the kitchen, Veronica was plating dinner with her usual exaggerated grace, as if she were a chef on TV.

JJ grabbed a glass of water and leaned against the counter, keeping his distance.

Luke walked in, his heavy footsteps echoing on the worn floor. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and eyed JJ but didn't say anything.

Veronica slid a plate in front of Luke and then one at JJ’s usual spot at the table. "Dinner’s ready," she announced, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.

JJ reluctantly sat down, picking at the food on his plate. He wasn’t hungry, not really, but he knew better than to skip a meal. Veronica would make a show of it, Luke would blow up, and the night would spiral even further downhill.

"See, isn’t this nice?" Veronica cooed, cutting into her food with deliberate precision. "A proper family meal. It’s important to have these moments, don’t you think, JJ?"

JJ didn’t look up, didn’t respond. He just shoveled a bite of food into his mouth and focused on getting through the next few minutes. That was all he could do—endure, survive, and wait for the moment when he could escape, even if just in his mind.

The meal dragged on, every second feeling like an hour. Veronica kept up her facade of cheerful conversation, throwing barbed comments at JJ under the guise of playful teasing. Luke grunted his way through most of it, occasionally tossing a glare in JJ’s direction when he felt the need to assert control.

JJ kept his head down, responding only when directly addressed. He’d learned that silence was his best defense. The less he said, the fewer opportunities they had to twist his words against him.

As the plates began to empty, Veronica leaned back in her chair, swirling her wine glass in hand. "You know, JJ," she said, her voice dripping with false concern, "it’s really a shame you don’t try harder to pull your weight around here. Luke works so hard, and I do so much to keep this house running. The least you could do is show a little more initiative."

JJ clenched his jaw, but he didn’t take the bait. Instead, he forced himself to nod. "I’ll keep that in mind." He pushed his chair back, grabbing his plate and heading to the sink. He couldn’t sit there any longer. The weight of their scrutiny was suffocating.

"Where do you think you’re going?" Luke called after him.

"Just cleaning up," JJ replied, keeping his tone neutral.

"Good," Luke muttered. "Make yourself useful for once."

JJ bit back a retort, rinsing his plate and placing it in the drying rack. He could feel Veronica’s eyes on him, waiting for him to slip, to give her something to pounce on. But he didn’t. He just focused on the task at hand, one plate at a time.

When he was done, he turned to leave, but Veronica’s voice stopped him. "Oh, and JJ?"

He froze, turning to face her. "Yeah?"

"Shouldn’t you be thanking me for this meal?" Veronica said, her tone dripping with mock sweetness. "Your father works really hard to make sure there’s food on this table." JJ glanced over and saw Luke staring at him, waiting for his response.

JJ swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he glanced between Veronica and Luke. He could feel the weight of his father’s stare, heavy and expectant. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for him to say the words that would keep the peace, however fragile it might be.

"Thanks," JJ muttered, his voice barely audible.

Veronica tilted her head, her lips curving into a smug smile. "What was that, sweetie? I didn’t quite hear you."

JJ’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, but he forced himself to repeat it, louder this time. "Thanks for the meal."

Veronica’s smile widened as she leaned back in her chair, clearly satisfied with her victory. "See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

JJ didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the floor. Luke grunted in approval, taking another swig of his beer.

"Make sure you remember that next time," Veronica added, her tone sweet but laced with condescension. "It’s important to show a little gratitude now and then."

JJ nodded stiffly and turned, heading back to his room before either of them could say anything else. Once inside, he shut the door quietly, not wanting to give them any reason to call him back. His hands were still shaking as he sat on the edge of his bed, trying to steady his breathing.

This was his life now, he thought bitterly. Every day felt like a battle just to get through. Veronica’s constant jabs, Luke’s indifference, the suffocating weight of the lockdown—it was all too much. He grabbed his phone and opened the messages, needing to connect with someone who understood.

JJ: Just got out of dinner.

John B’s reply came quickly.

John B: You good? What happened?

JJ: Veronica. She’s on a power trip, as always. Made me thank her for the damn meal like I’m five or something.

John B: That chick is the worst. Why does your dad even put up with her?

JJ: No clue. He thinks she’s some kind of saint or something. Probably because she cooks and pretends to care about him.

JJ put the phone down, his chest a little less tight. For now, he was stuck, but knowing someone cared—someone had his back—made it just a little easier to bear.

The weekend was finally over, and JJ couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this excited to go to school. He practically bolted out of the house, slipping out the door before anyone else had even woken up.

JJ’s sneakers hit the pavement as he walked toward the bus stop, his steps lighter than they’d been in weeks. The sun was just starting to rise, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. For once, he felt like he could breathe. School might not be great, but it was a hell of a lot better than being stuck at home with Luke and Veronica.

As JJ reached the corner, the familiar sound of the bus's brakes squealing to a stop echoed in his ears. He hopped on with his usual swagger, a grin spreading across his face as he scanned the bus. The moment he stepped onto the aisle, all eyes turned toward him.

“Morning, losers!” JJ greeted loudly, his voice carrying across the bus. Laughter rippled through the seats, some groaning while others chuckled.

“Yo, JJ!” a kid shouted from the back, leaning over the edge of his seat. “You hear about Mr. Simmons? He almost got kicked out for throwing a stapler at principal O’Hara!”

JJ made his way to a seat near the back, feeling the usual eyes on him as he walked. The moment he sat down, everyone seemed to turn toward him, eager for his attention.

“Damn, not just me O’Hara hates now,” JJ said with a laugh, throwing his arms up in mock exasperation.

A kid nearby grinned. “For how many times you’ve been sent there, can you blame her?”

JJ gave a playful shrug and smirked. “Can’t argue with that.”

“How many times have you been sent there now?” another kid asked, practically leaning forward in anticipation of his answer.

JJ leaned back in his seat, holding up both hands like he was about to count. “Honestly? I lost track after ten. Suspensions are starting to feel like mini-vacations at this point,” he said with exaggerated nonchalance, even though it was a complete lie. The truth was, he painfully remembered every single time he got suspended—because every time, they called his dad to take him home. But the more he joked about it, the less it seemed to matter. The laughter around him drowned out the swirling thoughts in his head.

“Legend,” a kid said in awe.

As the bus rolled to a stop at school, JJ grabbed his bag, slipping off the bus with a swagger. The usual crowd gathered around him as he made his way toward the school entrance, calling out and cracking jokes.

When he saw John B by the bike racks, he couldn’t help but feel the weight lift a little. John B’s presence was like a breath of fresh air.

“Hey,” John B greeted, his eyes scanning JJ’s face like he was checking for bruises. It was subtle, but JJ caught it.

“What? You’re not excited to see me?” JJ teased, throwing on a cocky grin to cover up the moment.

“Of course I am! I’m going crazy over here. I know it’s nothing compared to what you’re dealing with, but my dad’s been locked in his study 24/7. I’m bored,” John B groaned dramatically.

JJ chuckled. “Yeah, well, same here. You wanna ditch?” JJ wasn’t just throwing out the idea of ditching for fun—he really wanted to hang out. He wanted more than the rushed conversations squeezed into five-minute breaks between classes. He wanted to surf, kick back and talk about whatever came to mind, maybe watch some dumb movies and forget about everything for a while. School felt like just another place to pretend everything was fine, and he was getting sick of it.

John B looked intrigued but didn’t get a chance to respond before Pope appeared, backpack slung over one shoulder, looking as serious as ever.

“No, JJ. You can’t break the rules. Also, it’s against the law to ditch school,” Pope said firmly, crossing his arms.

JJ rolled his eyes, scoffing. “Always the good one, Pope. How’re you holding up with the prison rules?” he asked, a teasing edge to his voice.

“It’s not prison, JJ. They just don’t want us to get sick,” Pope said, calm but unwavering, clearly used to this back-and-forth.

JJ snorted, shaking his head, but Pope carried on unfazed. “I’m good. Just helping out with chores and studying. Trying to keep busy, you know.”

Before JJ could fire back, the bell rang, and Pope immediately started heading toward the door.

“How much of a teacher’s pet can you be?” JJ called after him, earning a laugh from John B.

The two of them followed Pope, dragging their feet toward their first class.

The bell rang again, and JJ strolled into history class, trailing behind John B and Pope.

The moment JJ stepped through the door, he caught the immediate scowl from Mr. Simmons, who stood by the whiteboard with a map of early human evolution. Simmons wasn’t subtle about his disdain for JJ, and JJ wasn’t exactly shy about returning the favor.

“Ah, Mr. Maybank,” Simmons drawled, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “How nice of you to join us. I was starting to think you’d forgotten this class existed.”

JJ smirked as he dropped into his usual seat near the back. “Oh did you miss me?”

“Trust me, Maybank,” Simmons said, his voice cold, “if it were up to me, you wouldn’t be here.”

“Ouch,” JJ said, clutching his chest dramatically. “And here I thought we had something special.”

John B chuckled under his breath, while Pope shook his head, trying not to get dragged into the chaos.

A few kids snickered, but Simmons was already gripping his chalk a little tighter.

He muttered under his breath ignoring him as he turned to the board to write the day’s topic: "Early Human Evolution."

JJ leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. Not exactly looking forward to this, he turned to John B, and the two of them loudly chatted to distract themselves.

Simmons pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly trying to maintain control. He slammed his book down on his desk, silencing the room. “Alright, enough. Today, we’re discussing human evolution. Open your books to page 76. And Maybank, if I hear one more word from you that isn’t directly related to the topic, you’ll be spending the afternoon in detention.”

JJ flipped open his book slowly, fixing Mr. Simmons with a defiant stare, pissing him off without saying anything. He propped his elbow on the desk, resting his chin in his hand, and made a show of turning to the right page. The smirk tugging at his lips made it clear he was enjoying every second of this silent rebellion.

Mr. Simmons cleared his throat, clearly irritated, and began pacing the front of the room. “Alright, class, let’s talk about early hominids. Homo habilis was fully erect. Australopithecus, however, was never fully erect.”

“Maybe he was nervous.” JJ said leaned back in his chair, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

The class erupted into laughter, a mix of giggles and snorts, while Simmons’ face turned a deep shade of red.

“That’s it. Outside. Now,” Simmons barked.

“What, no detention first? I’m heartbroken,” JJ said with mock sincerity, rising from his seat with a dramatic sigh.

“Out!” Simmons practically shouted, grabbing JJ by the arm and marching him toward the door, JJ tried to suppress the flinch as Simmons' iron grip tightened around his wrist. He hated how easily Simmons could make him feel small, but he wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of showing weakness.

JJ threw a quick glance back at John B and Pope, his grin intact despite the situation. “Hold down the fort for me, boys!” he called out, earning another round of laughter from the class as Simmons slammed the door behind them.

As soon as they were in the hallway, JJ yanked his arm free, his smirk spreading wide. “You like to make a scene, don’t you? Just like with the principal,” he teased, knowing the words would set Simmons off.

Simmons’ face turned an even deeper shade of red, his anger boiling over. “That’s it, you’ve got detention after school with me,” he snapped.

JJ’s smirk faltered, but only for a second. Deep down, he was satisfied. The plan was working—he’d avoid going home as long as possible, even if it meant being taunted by Mr. Simmons. “Some quality time? Didn’t know you liked me that much,” JJ shot back, leaning into the irritation he knew would get under Simmons' skin.

“Watch it, or I’ll make sure to call your father as well.” His words hit a little too close to home. That one hurt, but JJ didn’t let it show. He wasn’t about to give Simmons the satisfaction.

“Sit out there. I’ll deal with you after class,” Simmons barked, pointing toward the door.

JJ rolled his eyes but complied, walking over to the door.

As he sat down on the concrete steps outside, he sighed, looking up at the sky. He didn’t mind being out here. It was quieter than the classroom, and it gave him a chance to clear his head. Still, the frustration of being dragged out by Simmons weighed on him.

Ten minutes later, the door was being slammed open once more, and John B was practically shoved out into the hallway. He shot JJ a look, and the two of them exchanged smirks. The door slammed behind him, and John B walked over to where JJ was sitting.

“Seems like we both have detention after school,” John B said, a wide grin spreading across his face.

JJ chuckled, returning the smirk. “Guess we’re both really earning the title of ‘favorite students’ today, huh?” He leaned back against the wall, practically radiating confidence.

“So, let’s be honest, this was your plan all along, wasn’t it? You’re avoiding Veronica,” John B said, narrowing his eyes as he saw straight through JJ’s antics.

JJ grinned, not bothering to deny it. “Who wouldn’t? If I’m lucky, they’re both asleep by the time I get home.” his voice carried a note of hope, though he didn’t really believe it. He shoved his hands into his pockets, leaning back casually against the wall.

“Anyway, what’s the plan here? Are we really gonna sit around waiting for Simmons to roast us, or are we gonna do something fun? We’ve got, what, 20 minutes before Pope gets out?” JJ said, his voice full of energy as he threw a mischievous grin at John B

John B tilted his head, already onboard with whatever JJ was scheming. “Surf?” he asked, the beach wasn’t far but neither of them had boards or swim trunks.

“Yeah, follow me,” JJ said, eyes lighting up as he started walking. John B trailed behind, curious but ready to go wherever JJ led.

They ended up at the surf shop near the school. JJ strolled in like he owned the place, scanning the racks quickly. Spotting a pair of swim trunks and towels, he nodded at John B. While the cashier was distracted, JJ swiped the items, tossing a couple of bills on the counter to pay for some board wax—just enough to make it look legit.

When they got to the beach, JJ spotted a shed near the shore. Peering inside, they found a couple of battered but usable boards. JJ grabbed one, passing another to John B.

“Just borrowing, right?” he said with a mischievous grin, not waiting for an answer as he headed toward the waves.

The water was perfect. The kind of day that made them both feel alive. They paddled out, catching wave after wave, the world and all its problems slipping away with every ride.

By the time they made it back to school, their hair was damp, and they were both fashionably late for their next class. JJ smirked as he glanced at John B.

“Totally worth it,” JJ said.

“Absolutely,” John B agreed, his grin matching JJ’s as they strolled into school, looking like they owned the place.

As they walked into the hallway, the faint echoes of muffled lectures drifted through the walls. JJ and John B didn’t bother rushing, their pace slow and deliberate, as if the world was moving at their speed. They passed a group of students who gave them raised eyebrows and smirks, clearly noticing the damp hair and sandy sneakers.

“You think you can lie yourself out of this one?” John B muttered, nudging JJ with his elbow.

JJ smirked. “No need to, I really don’t care if she gives us detention or not.”

They reached their next class—a dull math lesson they both knew they wouldn’t pay attention to. John B paused outside the door, turning to JJ with a grin. “You’ll probably end up at the principal by the end of the day.”

JJ laughed under his breath. “Ain’t a proper school day without O’Hara.”

JJ pushed open the door like he owned the place, strutting in as if they weren’t ten minutes late and dripping saltwater. The teacher, Ms. Carter, paused mid-sentence, her eyes narrowing as she took in the sight of them—wet, sandy, and clearly not bothered in the slightest.

“Maybank. Routledge.” Her voice was sharp, cutting through the quiet hum of the class. “How nice of you to grace us with your presence. Care to explain why you’re late?”

JJ leaned casually against the doorframe, his signature smirk firmly in place. “Traffic jam at the beach. It’s crazy down there—you should go and see it.”

The class chuckled, a few stifling outright laughter, while John B covered his mouth to hide his grin.

Ms. Carter wasn’t amused. “Just sit down

As the lesson dragged on, JJ tapped his pencil against the desk, occasionally glancing at John B, who was pretending to take notes but doodling on the edge of his notebook instead.

The rest of the class blurred into a mix of half-hearted attempts to stay quiet and exchanged smirks between the two. By the time the bell rang, signaling the end of class, they were the first ones out the door, already plotting their next adventure.

“Where’s Pope?” JJ asked, scanning the hallway as they walked out.

John B shrugged. “Probably still in class. You know how he is.”

“we’ll wait for him at lunch” JJ said as he slung an arm around John B’s shoulders as they strolled toward the cafeteria, a lazy grin spreading across his face. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt a rare sense of freedom—temporary, sure, but he’d take what he could get.

Chapter Text

The cafeteria buzzed with chatter and the clatter of trays as students shuffled through the lunch line. JJ, Pope, and John B managed to snag a corner table by the window, where sunlight streamed in, casting a warm glow over their mismatched trays of mystery meat and wilted vegetables.

“Okay,” Pope said, poking at his mashed potatoes with a plastic fork, “why does this look like it was made during the Great Depression?”

JJ smirked, shoving a pea into his mouth. “Because it probably was. Welcome to gourmet dining at public school.”

John B laughed, taking a swig from his milk carton. “I think my appetite just died.”

“More for me, then,” JJ said, reaching over to snag the untouched roll from John Bs and Pope’s tray.

Pope narrowed his eyes. “You’re like a trash compactor with no off switch.”

“Hey, I’m a growing boy,” JJ quipped, grinning. “You guys are no fun. Always focusing on the negatives.”

They all laughed, the easy banter filling the air between them. For a moment, it was just the three of them—no stress, no drama, just friends taking a break from the chaos of the world. JJ leaned back, hands behind his head, feeling more at ease than he had in weeks.

John B asked the uncomfortable question no one wanted to address. “So… has anyone heard from Kie? It’s been, like, two months since she started at that new school,” he said, hesitating before adding, “You think she misses us?”

“No, she’s forgotten about us, John B,” Pope muttered, his tone flat.

John B shook his head, his sad eyes betraying how much he missed her. JJ noticed it too—they all did.

“Look, man, she won’t last more than a year with those kooks. She’ll come back. I know it,” JJ said, swallowing the last bite of his lunch. He didn’t want the mood to stay this heavy. He needed the carefree energy back but at least gym class was coming up so there was some hope.

As they walked toward the gym, Pope let out an exaggerated sigh. “Why does gym class even exist? It’s not like it’s teaching us anything useful. All we get out of it is bad self-esteem.”

JJ laughed, nudging him with his shoulder. “Now you know how I feel in literally every other class. What do you think I’m gonna use algebra for in my life? Making sure my surfboards are properly balanced?”

Pope rolled his eyes. “It’s about learning discipline, JJ.”

“Yeah?” JJ scoffed, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Well, so does dodgeball. If you get hit, you’re not good enough. You can learn from that,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery.

When they walked into the gym, the familiar scent of sweat and rubber greeted them. As always, the teams were split up, with JJ and John B each assigned to different sides, much to JJ’s dismay. Pope was in John B’s team, but JJ knew better than to expect much help from him. Pope was more likely to be found hiding behind a beam than actually playing.

“Alright, let’s do this!” JJ said, cracking his knuckles. The game began, and JJ was immediately in the thick of it, dodging balls like he was in a high-stakes game of survival. The adrenaline kicked in, and he felt alive—this was what he was born for.

John B and JJ dominated the dodgeball court, moving quickly, ducking, and weaving like they were playing for a championship. JJ didn’t hesitate, though, when the opportunity to peg Pope presented itself. He let the ball fly, watching it hit Pope square in the shoulder. Pope let out a dramatic groan before falling to the gym floor with an exaggerated flair.

“Down goes Pope!” JJ shouted, throwing his arms up like he’d just scored the winning point in the biggest game of his life.

Pope shot him a look from the floor. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you love me,” JJ shot back, winking.

The game wound down, and soon it was just JJ and John B standing on the court, ready to finish it off. John B made a run for the ball, but JJ, with a grin on his face, threw it right at him before he had the chance to grab it. The ball slammed into John B’s chest, sending him stumbling backward.

“Winner, baby!” JJ laughed, fist-pumping in victory.

“Alright, alright, I give up,” John B said, holding up his hands in surrender. “You got me.”

JJ was in high spirits as he jogged off the court. He loved this class—if only it wasn’t just once a week. Unfortunately, it was always scheduled on the same day as history and math, making it a perfect day for JJ to usually skip school entirely. But today, he’d fought through the rest of the boring classes for this.

When the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, JJ and John B have already been able to get two detentions but the other one was saved for tomorrow. They both slowly made their way to Simmons detention. Neither of them was particularly thrilled about the extra hour they’d have to spend in the dull, lifeless classroom. They’d both been in detention enough times to know how it went—silent, awkward, and full of barely-contained frustration.

As they walked through the door, Simmons was already waiting for them. He stood at the front of the room, arms crossed, looking like he’d been standing there for hours, just waiting to put them in their place.

"Mr. Maybank, Mr. Routledge," Simmons said with a tight smile that was about as genuine as a politician’s. “You're on time. I’m surprised.”

JJ gave John B a quick look and dropped into the chair furthest from Simmons’ desk, making sure to stretch out his legs and propping his feet up on the table. He flashed Simmons a grin, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Anything for my favorite teacher.”

Simmons didn’t seem amused. He didn’t even flinch at JJ’s attitude. Instead, he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, clearly already irritated. “Feet down, Maybank. Open your textbook to chapter five. You’ll be summarizing it.”

JJ raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated yawn. “Homework in detention? You’re really raising the bar here, huh?”

Simmons' eyes narrowed. “Start writing, or I’ll call your father.”

That threat hit its mark. JJ froze for a second, the humor in his expression faltering. The idea of his dad getting involved always had the power to shut him down, even if just for a second. Still, he wasn’t about to let Simmons see it. With a sigh, JJ leaned forward, grabbing the textbook and flipping it open.

“Won’t exactly be pleasant for you either,” JJ muttered under his breath, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

The words barely left his mouth before he began scribbling down half-hearted notes, barely looking at the page. The silence in the room was thick and uncomfortable, broken only by the sound of JJ’s pen dragging across the paper. He could feel Simmons watching him, but he didn’t care.

Time dragged on. The clock ticked slowly, each minute feeling like an eternity. Simmons didn’t try to start any conversation; he knew better by now. The only thing that broke the monotony was the occasional tapping of Simmons’ fingers on his desk or the slight clearing of his throat.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the clock hit the hour mark. Simmons stood up, the tension in his shoulders finally releasing. He gave both JJ and John B a look—more of a warning than anything else.

“Here,” Simmons said, handing each of them a signed note. “If the police stop you for being out on the streets, this explains why. You’ve got 45 minutes to get home.”

They both took the notes, JJ glancing at his with a smirk. “Guess you’re officially giving us permission to roam the streets now?”

“Go home,” Simmons said, his tone colder than before. “And try to make it through tomorrow without ending up back here.”

JJ didn’t hesitate. He shot Simmons a mock salute, the smirk returning to his face as he pushed his chair back and stood up. John B was already on his feet too, stretching his arms above his head like he’d just finished a long workout.

As they walked toward the door, JJ's smirk faded just a little. The reality of heading home was setting in, and it wasn’t exactly a pleasant thought. Still, he pushed it to the back of his mind.

With a final glance over his shoulder at Simmons, who was already back to his desk, JJ and John B stepped out into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind him.

The school bus was long gone by the time JJ and John B stepped out of the detention room, the empty parking lot confirming it. JJ stuffed the crumpled note from Simmons into his back pocket, glancing around.

“Guess we’re walking,” he said with a shrug.

“Looks like it,” John B replied, falling into step beside him as they left the building behind.

The sun was already dipping low, casting long shadows across the pavement. The cool evening breeze rustled through the trees lining the road, and for a moment, neither of them said anything, just the sound of their footsteps filling the silence.

The road ahead split, one path leading toward JJ’s house and the other continuing toward the Chateau.

JJ kicked a loose stone with his foot, his grin fading just a bit. “Guess this is me,” he said, nodding toward the darker road leading to his place.

John B hesitated, glancing at JJ. “You sure? We can sneak you into the Chateau. You know my dad loves you.”

JJ smirked slightly, jabbing John B playfully with his elbow. “Yeah, he probably wishes I was the son he never had.”

John B chuckled, swatting JJ’s shoulder in mock retaliation. “Don’t let it go to your head, Maybank.”

JJ’s smirk faltered just a little as he looked ahead, the road splitting in two. “But I can’t, man,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I don’t need the cops on me more than they already are.” he said.

John B nodded, understanding even if he didn’t like it. “Alright, well… good luck, man. See you tomorrow?”

JJ glanced up and gave a half-hearted smile. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

They stood there for a moment longer, the weight of unspoken things hanging in the air before JJ turned and started down the darker path toward his house. John B watched him for a second, his jaw tightening as he finally turned and walked toward the Chateau.

JJ walked up the familiar dirt path to the house, the weight of the day pressing on his shoulders. His dad’s car was still gone, but he knew Veronica was definitely inside.

He pushed open the door and found her standing at the oven, a scowl already planted on her face. As soon as he stepped in, she didn’t waste any time. “You’re late,” she snapped, her voice like ice.

JJ ignored her, focusing instead on something that mattered. “Where’s Dad?” he asked, his voice flat.

Veronica’s glare was sharp enough to cut through steel. “He’ll be back any second now, but don’t think you’re going to slither out of this one. Why are you late?”

JJ shrugged her off and walked past her toward the living room. “Missed the bus,” he muttered.

“You take another step, and I’ll tell Luke that you stole from him,” Veronica’s voice rang out with an icy threat, stopping him dead in his tracks.

JJ tensed, his muscles tightening, but he didn’t turn around. “I didn’t steal shit,” he replied, exhaustion making his voice sound more drained than he cared to admit.

Veronica’s voice dropped to a low, dangerous tone. “And you think your dad’s going to believe you?”

JJ felt his frustration flare up, but he fought to keep it contained. “Look, I had detention, alright? You happy now?” His words came out in a mix of irritation and exhaustion.

Veronica smirked, the kind of smile that sent a chill down his spine. “Nah, but I will be when I tell your father about this,” she said, practically savoring the moment.

JJ clenched his fists, the anger bubbling up, but he held it in. He didn’t have the energy for another fight right now. He wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction.

“Whatever,” he muttered under his breath, turning towards his room. He had no desire to deal with her anymore. He just wanted to be alone.

As he walked to his room, he could hear her voice trailing behind him, but he blocked it out. Nothing she said would change anything. The damage had already been done.

A few minutes later, the sound of the front door creaking open reached his ears, followed by the familiar clink of a beer bottle being cracked open. Luke was home and Veronica didn’t waste a second.

"Welcome home, babe," she called out, her voice sickeningly sweet. "JJ just got back, he's in his room."

Luke didn’t even acknowledge her at first. He just grabbed a beer and stared at her, waiting for her to continue. Veronica didn’t disappoint.

“He got detention again,” she said, her tone smug, knowing the words would get under Luke’s skin.

JJ could feel the anger rising in his chest. The last thing he needed was another confrontation with Luke.

Sure enough, Luke’s eyes darkened as he turned and stormed toward JJ’s room. His heavy steps echoed through the house. “JJ! Get out here!” he bellowed.

JJ stayed still on his bed, barely even lifting his head. It wouldn’t make a difference. He could already picture what was coming. The door was yanked open with force and there stood Luke, his bloodshot eyes glaring at him.

"You think you can ignore me?" Luke sneered.

JJs gaze fixed on the floor. "Obviously not," he muttered, trying to keep his voice steady, though he was beginning to feel the weight of the situation bearing down on him.

The moment JJ looked up, Luke hurled the half-empty beer bottle at him. It hit the side of his eyebrow with a sickening crack which split it open, the force snapping JJ’s head to the side. The bottle shattered on impact, sending jagged shards of glass and cold beer spraying across his clothes. The beer soaked into his shirt, sticky and bitter, while the glass left small cuts across his skin.

JJ flinched, his eyes wide in surprise, but he didn’t feel the pain. Not yet. Instead, all he could focus on was the way Luke’s face twisted in anger, the slur in his voice growing sharper with every word.

"You watch it!" Luke yelled, his finger pointing directly at JJ. "I need you here to fix shit, alright? Not wasting your time in school cause you're too dumb to keep your mouth shut during class!"

JJ’s stomach twisted. He wanted to say something, to fight back, but the words got stuck in his throat. He knew he had a detention tomorrow too. The last thing he needed was to make things worse, and Luke wasn’t exactly in the mood for a conversation. So, JJ remained silent, biting back the urge to snap.

Luke glared at him for another second before turning on his heel, slamming the door shut behind him with such force that JJ could feel the walls shake. He could hear Luke’s voice growing more distant as he spoke to Veronica.

“He’s not eating tonight,” Luke’s voice echoed through the door. "He'll stay in there until morning."

JJ’s stomach dropped. Not that he wanted to eat with them. The idea of sitting at the dinner table with Luke and Veronica was enough to make him feel sick. But being locked in his room—alone with the anger, the fear, the alcohol-soaked bed—wasn’t the dream either.

He stood up, carefully stepping around the shards of glass that littered the floor. As he did, he felt the cold, damp beer soaking through his clothes and the sticky remnants clinging to his skin. His head was pounding, and he could barely stand to look at the mess. His bed was covered in the beer, and the glass had pierced through the mattress, digging into the fabric.

JJ stood there for a moment, staring at the mess that Luke had made, his head spinning with a mix of anger and exhaustion. He had no choice but to move, to try to clean up before things got worse.

With a deep sigh, he stripped out of his soaked clothes, tossing them onto the floor. The beer was starting to seep through to his skin, a sticky reminder of how much his life was falling apart. As he tugged on a fresh shirt and some sweatpants, his mind raced—he had to clean up the glass before he could even think about lying down.

He stepped carefully around the shards on the floor. As he crouched down, carefully gathering the broken glass with a towel, a drop of blood fell onto the mattress. He froze for a moment, watching the red stain spread into the fabric. He had barely noticed the blood until now, his face too numb from the shock of what had just happened.

He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay calm as he continued to collect the glass, wincing every time a shard scraped against the towel. His hands were shaking a little as he moved around the room, carefully collecting each piece, but the blood on the sheets was another reminder of how messed up everything was.

Once he had gathered most of the glass, JJ moved to the bed. He ran his fingers over the soaked sheets, wincing at the sticky mess. He grabbed a clean towel and wiped at the mattress, trying to dry off what he could. But the scent of beer still lingered in the air.

When the glass was mostly cleared up and the bed was as dry as he could manage, JJ stood and wiped his hands on his pants, the faint sting of small cuts reminding him of the night's events. His stomach growled loudly, a sharp reminder that he hadn’t eaten since lunch.

He glanced at the door, knowing there was no chance of getting food tonight. Not with Luke’s words still echoing in his mind. He sighed, his shoulders slumping as exhaustion overtook him.

With an empty stomach and the bitter smell of beer, JJ crawled onto the bed he didn’t even bother with the blanket, just laid back and closed his eyes. Sleep took over quickly, his body too drained to fight it

Chapter Text

A week later, Christmas arrived.

The house was quiet except for the low hum of the television in the living room, but JJ knew better. He’d been hearing it all night—the muffled laughter, the obnoxious giggles, and now, unmistakably, the sounds of Luke and Veronica fooling around on the couch.

He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, fists clenched in frustration. It wasn’t like this was new; they didn’t care who was home or what time it was. But on Christmas, of all nights? JJ’s jaw tightened. He needed to get out.

Sliding out of bed, JJ grabbed his jacket and shoes. The old house creaked under his weight, so he moved carefully, not wanting to draw attention. He cracked open his window, the icy air biting at his skin, but he didn’t care. Anything was better than staying here.

The drop to the ground wasn’t much, and JJ landed softly in the overgrown grass. He glanced back at the house to make sure no one had noticed. The living room lights flickered, but no one came looking.

The streets were quiet under the lockdown. He knew he’d catch hell if he got caught sneaking out, but he didn’t care. His feet carried him toward John B’s place, his mind racing with frustration and a desperate need to feel normal, even if just for a little while.

When he reached the chateau, JJ tapped lightly on the door. A moment later, the door slid open, and John B’s face appeared, lit with confusion and then a knowing smirk.

“What happened this time?” John B asked. JJ had been turning up at the Chateau more and more often, not even bothering to care about the risk of getting caught by the cops. He just couldn’t handle being stuck at his own house all the time.

JJ shrugged as he slid inside, brushing snow off his jacket. “Couldn’t take it anymore. They’re at it again.”

John B cringed. “On Christmas? That’s...wow. Okay.”

“Exactly,” JJ said, dropping onto the couch with a huff. “Figured I’d rather deal with whatever happens than listen to that all day.”

John B handed him a blanket and sat down beside him. “Well, you’re here now. Want to watch something? I was just putting on that crappy Christmas movie”

JJ smirked, the tension in his chest loosening just a bit. “Sure, as long as it’s not Elf again. I can’t take another round of that.”

John B chuckled, flipping through the channels. “I’ll do my best.”

The two of them settled in, the soft glow of the TV lighting up the room. JJ leaned back on the couch, a faint grin tugging at his lips as the faint smell of something burning wafted through the chateau. The kitchen was chaos, and in the middle of it stood Big John, wielding a fire extinguisher like a weapon, yelling, “I told you! I told you this turkey was cursed!”

John B leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed and laughing so hard tears were forming in his eyes. “Dad, it’s not cursed. You just forgot to take the plastic wrap off!”

JJ was practically doubled over on the couch, clutching his stomach. “I don’t know, John B—kinda feels like the turkey’s out to get him,” JJ said between gasps, pointing to the charred remnants in the oven.

Big John groaned, tossing the extinguisher onto the counter and glaring at the blackened turkey like it had personally offended him. “Fine. Pizza it is. But I’m telling you, next year, we’re deep frying it in the yard.”

As Big John stomped out of the kitchen to make a call for delivery, JJ leaned over to John B. “Man, you gotta admit, your old man has flair. Who else would turn Christmas dinner into a bonfire?”

John B shook his head, chuckling. “At least he’s trying. Better than nothing, right?”

JJ thought about that for a second, his grin fading slightly. “Yeah,” he said softly, “better than nothing.”

By the time the pizza arrived, the three of them were back in the living room, the turkey incident reduced to a series of jokes and exaggerated retellings. Big John had dusted off an old bottle of eggnog—non-alcoholic, as he was quick to point out—and passed it around in mismatched mugs.

“Alright, boys,” Big John said, raising his mug in a toast. “To surviving Christmas, even if the turkey didn’t.”

JJ smirked, raising his mug. “To Big John’s cooking, may it rest in peace.”

They clinked their mugs together, laughter filling the room.

As they ate, Big John disappeared for a moment, returning with a wrapped box. He handed it to JJ, who blinked in surprise.

“What’s this?” JJ asked, staring at the gift like it might explode.

“Don’t look so shocked, kid,” Big John said, sitting back down. “It’s Christmas, isn’t it?”

JJ carefully tore the paper away, revealing a secondhand fishing reel. It wasn’t new, but it was clean and polished, and JJ could tell someone had taken the time to fix it up.

“Figured you’d need something for when you and John B are out fishing,” Big John said, a grin tugging at his lips.

JJ was quiet for a moment, running his fingers over the reel. Then he looked up, a rare, genuine smile breaking across his face. “Thanks, Big John. This...this is really cool.”

John B clapped him on the back. “See? Told you Christmas wasn’t all bad.”

JJ rolled his eyes but couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. “Alright, don’t get sappy on me now.”

The rest of the night passed with more laughter, stories, and Big John’s questionable choice of old Christmas songs. For the first time in what felt like forever, JJ felt like he was part of something that didn’t come with conditions or strings. For one night, at least, he wasn’t just a kid sneaking out of his house—he was home.

JJ's laughter at John B’s terrible impression of Santa Claus was cut short by the sudden buzzing of his phone on the coffee table. He glanced at the screen. Veronica.

His face instantly hardened, and he hit decline without hesitation. The buzzing stopped, but only for a moment before the phone lit up again. JJ’s jaw clenched as he rejected the call a second time.

“Dude, you good?” John B asked, leaning over to see the screen, but JJ angled it away, shaking his head.

“Yeah, it’s nothing,” JJ muttered, but the buzzing didn’t stop. Text after text came in, the relentless pings filling the room.

Where are you?

Answer me.

Luke’s going to find out, you know that, right?

You’re dead when you get home.

JJ’s hands started to shake as the barrage continued, and his chest tightened. He tried to turn the phone off, but the constant stream of notifications froze the screen. Veronica called again, her name flashing in large letters.

“JJ…” Big John’s voice was calm but cautious. “You sure everything’s okay?”

JJ didn’t answer. His frustration boiled over, and before he could think twice, he grabbed the phone and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall with a loud crack as the phone fell to the floor.

Both John B and Big John froze, staring at him in shock. JJ exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he avoided their eyes.

“Sorry,” he muttered, his voice tight. “I’ll clean it up.”

Big John stood up, motioning for John B to stay put. “Hold up, JJ.” He walked over, lowering his voice. “Come sit with me for a minute.”

JJ hesitated, but something in Big John’s tone made him comply. He sank back onto the couch, his head hanging low.

Big John watched JJ carefully, his expression softening as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Look, JJ, I can probably guess why you’re here and not at home. But it’d help me out if you told me, alright?”

JJ hesitated, his walls starting to crack under the weight of Big John’s steady, understanding gaze. He swallowed hard, his voice shaky but honest. “It’s not just Luke anymore. Veronica… she’s worse. She’s always pushing buttons, always threatening to tell him stuff to get him riled up. And he’s drunk half the time, so it doesn’t even take much.”

Big John’s jaw tightened, but he didn't say anything.

JJ exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair. “I just… I couldn’t listen to them anymore. Them on the couch, her yelling at me, him waiting for any excuse to lose it. I had to leave.” He paused, glancing at the floor. “Lockdown’s made it all worse. There’s no break from it.”

Big John nodded slowly, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Yeah, I can imagine. Lockdown’s tough enough without all that. Makes me want to track down the people who made the rules and give ’em a piece of my mind.”

That pulled a faint smile from JJ, but it faded as quickly as it came.

“Look, kid,” Big John continued, his tone steady but kind, “if you want me to call someone—anyone—I’ll do it. But I get it if you don’t. You probably know as well as I do how the system works.”

JJ nodded, his shoulders sagging. The last thing he wanted was to end up in foster care, tossed around even more than he already had been at home.

Big John leaned back slightly, crossing his arms. “Alright, then. Just know this—you don’t have to go back there right now. You’re always welcome here, no matter what. Got it?”

JJ looked up at him, his throat tight. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Big John didn’t say anything for a moment. Instead, he reached over and pulled JJ into a hug, firm and steady. The kind of hug that told JJ he wasn’t alone, even if the rest of the world seemed to scream otherwise.

JJ froze for a beat, not used to this kind of warmth. Slowly, he let himself lean into it, his fists unclenching at his sides. He hadn’t realized how much he needed this—just someone to hold him without anger or expectations.

JJ couldn’t help but wish, deep down, that Big John was his dad too. He knew Big John wasn’t perfect. The man had his flaws—always obsessed with treasure, always halfway out the door chasing the next clue or lead. But in moments like these, when Big John put everything aside to just be there, it made him feel like he was the best dad anyone could ever have.

“Let’s see if we can save that phone of yours,” Big John said, pulling away from the hug with a small smile. John B was already crouched over the phone, inspecting it.

“I think it still works,” John B said, “Just a crack in the screen. Nothing fatal.” He handed it back to JJ with a grin, trying to inject some cheer into the moment.

JJ took the phone, turning it over in his hands. The screen was fractured, a sharp line cutting across it like a scar. “Thanks,” he said quietly, his voice steady but low.

Big John clapped his hands together, breaking the brief silence. “Alright, enough of the doom and gloom. Who’s up for a game?”

John B perked up immediately, his eyes lighting up. “What do you think, JJ?” he asked, nudging his friend with an elbow.

JJ shrugged, though the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth betrayed his interest. “Depends,” he said. “What kind of game are we talking about? Something that doesn’t involve treasure maps, hopefully.”

Big John laughed, pulling an old, battered deck of cards from a nearby shelf. “Relax, kid. Just some good old-fashioned cards. Blackjack? Poker? Or you want me to teach you how to play Spades?”

John B grabbed the deck before his dad could shuffle it, inspecting the faded cards. “Spades, Dad? Really? I don’t think JJ has the attention span for that.”

“Hey,” JJ interjected with mock offense, “I’ll have you know I’m very sophisticated when it comes to games. Deal me in.”

Big John grinned, already pulling chairs around the table. “Alright then, let’s see what you’re made of.”

The three of them settled in, the tension from earlier easing as the night became filled with laughter, playful jabs, and a little friendly competition. JJ felt the weight on his chest lift, even if just for a while.

Halfway through round two a low rumble of an engine cut through the night, its growl growing louder as it neared the house. JJ froze mid-laugh, the sound sending a chill down his spine. He knew that truck. Knew it too well.

“Who the hell is out here at this hour?” Big John muttered, standing up and moving toward the window.

JJ sat rigid, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the chair. “It’s him,” he whispered, barely audible.

“Who?” John B asked, his brow furrowing.

“My dad” JJ said flatly, his voice heavy with dread.

The truck stopped in front of the house, its headlights illuminating the yard. Big John exchanged a quick look with John B before stepping toward the door.

“Stay put,” Big John instructed JJ firmly. “I’ll handle this.”

“No, don’t...” JJ started, but Big John was already opening the door, stepping outside into the chilly night air.

Luke stood there, swaying slightly, his eyes bloodshot. The smell of beer hit Big John even from a few feet away.

“Where is he?” Luke demanded, his voice slurred but loud.

Big John straightened his shoulders, trying to keep calm. “Luke, he’s fine. He’s safe here. Why don’t you head home, sleep it off, and...”

Luke pushed past him with surprising force. For all his bluster, Big John wasn’t a fighter—he stumbled back, unable to block Luke’s path.

JJ was already on his feet, his heart pounding as Luke stormed into the house. “Get your ass outside, JJ,” Luke growled, his eyes wild.

“Dad” JJ started, his voice shaking.

Luke just grabbed JJ’s arm with a grip like a vice.

Big John stepped back inside, trying again to intervene. “Luke, let’s talk about this...”

Luke turned on him, his face a mask of rage. “Stay out of it. This is my kid, and I’ll deal with him how I see fit.”

JJ glanced at John B, who looked ready to jump in, but JJ shook his head subtly. He didn’t want his best friend or his dad tangled up in this mess.

Luke yanked JJ toward the door, dragging him outside and shoving him toward the truck. JJ didn’t resist; he knew better than to try.

The last thing JJ heard as Luke started the engine was Big John’s voice calling after him. “You’ve got a place here, JJ. Don’t forget that.”

Luke’s truck roared to life, its tires crunching over the gravel as they sped away. JJ stared out the window, his stomach churning. He knew Luke was risking a lot driving like this during lockdown, but he also knew better than to say anything.

In the passenger seat, JJ clenched his jaw, willing himself not to cry. It wasn’t just the humiliation or the fear—it was the ache of leaving behind the one place where, for a little while, he’d felt like he belonged.

The truck sped through the empty streets, the dim glow of streetlights reflecting off the cracked windshield. JJ stayed quiet, his body pressed against the passenger door as far away from Luke as he could get.

Luke’s grip on the steering wheel was tight, his knuckles white. His breath reeked of alcohol, and his voice was sharp when he finally spoke. “You think you can just run off? You think you’re too good for my house, huh?”

JJ stared out the window, his jaw clenched. He didn’t respond—he knew better than to add fuel to the fire.

JJ shook his head faintly, his eyes fixed on the passing houses. He wanted to say something, to defend himself, but he knew it wouldn’t matter. Nothing ever did with Luke.

The truck jerked to a stop in front of the house. Luke got out first, slamming the door so hard the truck rattled. JJ hesitated, his hand lingering on the door handle.

“Hurry up!” Luke barked, his voice cutting through the cold night air.

JJ stepped out, his legs shaky as he followed Luke toward the house. Veronica stood in the doorway, her arms crossed, a smirk on her face. “Have fun playing house?” she sneered.

JJ ignored her, stepping inside and heading straight for his room. He wanted nothing more than to lock the door and disappear into the walls.

“Oh no, you’re not hiding away tonight,” Luke called after him, his voice laced with menace. “Get back out here.”

JJ froze in the hallway, his stomach sinking. Slowly, he turned back, his heart pounding in his chest.

Just seeing JJ standing there seemed to set Luke off. His face twisted with fury as he took three long, menacing steps toward him. JJ tried to brace himself, but the moment Luke’s hand grabbed the front of his shirt, he flinched. Before he could react, Luke shoved him hard into the wall, pinning him there with a forearm pressed firmly against his neck.

“You think you can run, you little shit?” Luke shouted, his voice echoing off the walls. His breath reeked of beer, and his words were thick with rage.

JJ’s mouth stayed shut, his jaw clenched. He didn’t want to give Luke the satisfaction of a response. But from the corner of his eye, he caught Veronica’s glare. She was standing just behind Luke, her arms crossed, her expression filled with smug satisfaction. There was no doubt in JJ’s mind—she’d been the one to rile Luke up, feeding him whatever lies she could to make things worse.

Luke slammed him harder into the wall, the impact sending a sharp pain through JJ’s back. “Huh? You’ve got nothing to say now?” Luke demanded, his voice rising. “You think you can just walk out like you own the damn place? Answer me!”

JJ snapped, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could stop them. “I didn’t want to hear you two fucking on the couch all day, alright?”

The room seemed to freeze for a second. Luke blinked, stunned by the boldness of JJ’s words. Even Veronica looked momentarily taken aback, her mouth hanging open in shock.

But the silence didn’t last long. The anger returned to Luke’s face like a storm cloud, darker and more dangerous than before. Without hesitation, he drew back his fist and punched JJ square in the cheekbone. The force of it sent JJ’s head snapping to the side, pain exploding across his face. Before he could even process it, another blow landed, this time closer to his eye.

JJ’s head throbbed, the pounding in his skull drowning out the sound of Luke’s yelling. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, warm and metallic. His legs felt weak, but Luke’s arm still held him against the wall like a vice.

“You watch your damn mouth, boy!” Luke snarled, his finger jabbing toward JJ’s face. “You don’t get to talk to me like that! You’re lucky I don’t knock you out right here.”

JJ didn’t respond. His vision was blurry, and his face felt like it was on fire, but he bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from making a sound. He knew better than to argue back now.

From across the room, Veronica smirked, her satisfaction evident. “Told you he’d mouth off,” she said, her tone laced with venom.

Luke let out a grunt, finally releasing JJ who instinctively wiped at his face, his hand coming away smeared with blood.

“You’re gonna learn your place, one way or another,” Luke spat before turning away, grabbing a fresh beer from the counter like nothing had happened.

JJ stayed where he was, leaning against the wall, his breaths shallow and uneven. Veronica gave him one last triumphant glance before following Luke back into the living room, her laughter cutting through the tense silence.

JJ made it to his room and slammed his door shut and leaned against it, his breath shaky. His hands were trembling, his entire body screaming at him to run, to escape, but there was nowhere to go now.

He staggered to his bed and sank down, his head in his hands. He didn’t cry—he was too numb for that—but the weight of it all pressed down on him like a crushing wave. Merry fucking Christmas he thought to himself.