Don't Forget Where You Belong [JJ Maybank] *COMPLETE*

Chapter 7- Bird

"That bread had mold on it three days ago, J" you said from your spot next to John B at the dining table.

JJ was in the kitchen, currently spreading peanut butter over some very, very old bread. You honestly had no idea how long it had been there for, but you couldn't exactly blame him. After the day you all had you were starving but were willing to wait for actual food when you got home.

"I'll just pull off the bad parts," he retorted, continuing to run the knife across the off bread, "Plus, mold is good for you. It's just a natural organism."

You smiled to yourself as you diverted your attention back to John B, who had begun to prise open the envelope.

"Hot damn! Let's do it," JJ said, sliding across the wooden floor and into the back of your chair. You heard him take a bite of his sandwich, before he gagged. You looked behind you with disgust as he spat what was in his mouth bank into his hand.

"JJ, please," you scolded as he moved to chuck the half-chewed mouthful in the bin, "there's a time and a place," you gestured to John B who had pulled a map out of the envelope. JJ raised his hand in surrender, as he moved back over to the other side of John B, one of his hands still holding his sandwich, which very clearly had large speck of mold on it. Your nose turned up at him before drawing your attention back to John B.

"Holy shit,"

"Oh. X marks the spot," Pope commented, examining the map.

"Wait, there's somethin' else in there," John B said as he reached into the envelope and brandishing a small, black, rectangular device.

"What's that?" JJ asked.

"It's a tape recorder, dumbass," Kie answered, unimpressed.

John B pressed play.

"Dear Bird—" the voice on the tape recorder spoke.

"Who's Bird?" JJ asked.

"That's what my dad called me," John B probably would've been fed up with JJ's antics by now, but he was too focused on the sound of his father's voice after so long.

You caught JJ's eyes across the table, giving him a short shake of your head. His brows pinched in confusion. You held your pointer finger up to your lips, signalling him to stop asking questions. He stared at your lips for a second longer than he usually would, as he wet his own, pink tongue darting out. He blinked twice, before nodding hastily.

"—but don't kill yourself just yet, kid. I didn't expect to find the Merchant either."

The five of you shared looks of shock as the tape continued,

"You were probably right to call me out. Wasn't exactly Father of the Decade. What can I say, kid? I could smell the barn. And hopefully, we're listenin' to this in our brand-new sugar-shack down in Costa Rica, livin' off passive investments and pulling on permits. If not, and you find this for less than optimal reasons, well, that's what the map is for. There she is, the wreck of the Merchant. If somethin' happens to me, finish what I started."

You could feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes as John B's expression grew harder, knuckles going white as he gripped the tape recorder; almost as if, if he squeezed it hard enough, his dad would appear.

"Go for the gold, kid. I love you, Bird, even if I didn't always act like it. I'll see you on the other side."

There was static on the other end of the tape, before the recorder clicked off.

John B let out an exhausted breath. He got up quickly from the table. You swivelled in your chair as you watched him move towards the doorway. You could see his shoulders begin to shake.