𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘭𝘺 » 𝘫𝘣.𝘳

word count: 1.8k

warning(s): mentions of death/a missing family member, grief & loss, sprinkles of angst but a happy ending

summary: checking up on john b after his father's disappearance leads to an honest conversation about where you two stand

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Radio silent. A fair description for the lack of interaction John B initiated with the group over the last few weeks. And rightfully so. The disappearance and possible death of a parent— you could only imagine— would be hell to bear. Especially for a young, only child like John B.

He would often speak about how he loved being the only child in the house. There was no one he was obligated to share with, no one there to get on his nerves on a constant basis, and no one to split the presence of his father with. That was nice for a while; until Big John's appearances on the island spread thinner and thinner, and to his son it felt as though he were dissipating.

With the support of his lifelong friends, he felt like he'd be okay. Though there were no biological ties between them all, he'd always consider the pogues his family.

JJ would stop by his place on the way home from a long shift at the Island Club. And although he was tired, he knew John B would crack a smile at the preppy uniform he had to wear.

Kiara would call a lot, as her parents were keeping close eyes on her. It was hard for the girl to visit as often as she would've liked, but John B hearing the girl's voice while he sat and listened to her crazy stories was more than enough as is.

Pope would be the one to urge him to get outside. He'd ask the Routledge boy to come out on grocery deliveries with him, keep him company on whatever job Heyward had him doing for the day, and he'd even invite him over. Or more so his mother extended the invitation, urging her son to let his friend know he's welcome in their home anytime.

And where you stood in this process, was pretty much all three of the others combined. At this point, John B could count on your arrival to his home on every Friday morning. Maybe afternoon, depending on how late you'd slept in.

After a few knocks and no answer, you debated on just walking right in. He was never one to lock his doors, and he told you knocking was unnecessary at this point, but you were all for privacy. "John B? You decent?"

"Kinda. Come on in!"

With a turn of the doorknob, you stepped in the house, prepared to keep your eyes on the ground if need be. Rain droplets soaked into the material of your heather gray jacket as you had been shielding the paper box of baked goods you were holding.

The freckled boy came around the corner to greet you, pulling on a T-shirt over his head, but your eyes were fixated on looking down. Pizza boxes, beer cans, pictures, and every piece of trash known to man made it extremely difficult to see the floor. Your nose scrunched at the questionable and mysterious smell coming from one area. "What the hell is all this?"

"I know, I know. I need to tidy up a bit. My fault." John B admitted, hands up in surrender as he picked up a few pieces of trash and tossed it in the bin.

"I think there are raccoons living better than this." You quipped, pinching the bridge of your nose to eliminate the smell passing through your airways. "How'd it even get this bad? I was just here last week!"

"Wish I could tell ya." He shrugged in response, before his expression lifted and his fingers began wiggling towards the box you held. "What's in here?"

You retracted the box from him, eyebrows furrowing while feigning offense. "Not even a hug first?"

With a joking eye roll, John B shuffled towards you and wrapped his arms around your waist, breathing in the sweet smell of your shampoo. "Now can I see what's in the box?"