Pancakes for dinner - JJPOPE

Chapter two

In the Chinese version of the red thread of fate, the string is tied around the peoples ankles, whereas in the Japanese version, it becomes tied to the peoples pinkie finger for the pinkie finger is connected to the heart by the ulnar artery and extends to the person that you are destined to meet.

The day in which the presence of the thread on JJ's finger took place on one that was warm, bright and filled with screaming kids eating ice cream. JJ was running at full speed across the wooden docks, phone in hand, John B's text of 'lets go surfing' still clear on the homescreen, when all of a sudden, he crashed into a strong chest and fell backward to the floor, the box in the person's hand falling along with him.

Before JJ could even speak, a hand, large and calloused, skin dark, appeared in front of his face, casting shadows over his skin and blocking the sun from his eyes. Taking the hand, JJ had squeaked in shock at the strength of the pull that had him back on his feet. "I'm so sorry, man." JJ had said, flustered and more than a little awkward. Flicking his head up from his fidgety hands, JJ's eyes had blown wide.

Deep, hazel eyes stared into JJ's ocean blues, so sharp, so intimidating, yet soft and kind. A tug had made itself known deep in JJ's chest, as though his soul was begging him to surge forward and take hold of the other hand once more.

"Don't sweat it." And his voice, God, it sounded as though as he spoke his voice was dripping chocolate, gutheral and velvety, melting in JJ's ears. It had made him feel weak at the knees. "I'm Pope."

That hand had been lent out once more, a warm smile on Pope's lips. JJ had taken it with a shy smile, introducing himself and cracking a joke to hide the pounding of his heart at the sudden electricity zapping through his veins when their hands touched once more, holding on. "That's very old fashioned of you, Dr Spock."

JJ had thought that Pope would have gotten mad, or maybe turned his nose up and walked away without another word. JJ couldn't have been more wrong. A scoffed out laugh escaped Pope's lips and he had rolled his eyes in a playful manner. "Oh haha, very funny. I'll let you get going, blondie."

JJ had shoved Pope with a grin, just another excuse to touch him. And then, with a simple wave, JJ was running once more. From that day onwards, Pope would not leave JJ's mind, which only made it all the more harder to push away his hope. He tried to tell himself that he was just imagining things. That he was desperate to have the one thing that kept him and his mothers relationship alive. Pope had not felt what JJ had felt, nor was Pope thinking about JJ every hour of the day and all throughout the night until he tired himself out so much that he fell asleep.

All Pope had become was a friend, and that's all he would be. A friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

Exhaustion hit JJ hard when he woke up, the undrawn curtains casting the bright morning sun over his tired, sore eyes. Fluttering them open and closed, the ache within his body becomes all the more potent and surges through his veins, the bruises on his skin aching. Looking down, JJ finds himself sprawled out on the floor where Luke had left him, dried blood covering the tiled floors. "Shit," JJ mutters, holding the side of his head as he slowly pulls himself into a seated position, pounding a horrible ache in his skull.

Last night hit him like a ton of bricks. Luke coming home, close to being fired from his most recent job, absolutely shit faced. JJ was seated in the living room on their old couch, fidgeting with a pen in his hand, trying to engage himself on what little homework he could force himself to do, when Luke bursted through the door, eyes dark, almost black with anger. JJ's heart sank, his limbs shaking, eyes casting downward to avoid the intimidating gaze of his father, which only seemed to have made Luke even angrier. "Look at me!" He had screamed, grabbing JJ by the hair and throwing him to the floor. Over and over his fist pounded against JJ's face, blood spilling down his chin, down his nose, until JJ was out of it. He was usually dumb enough to fight back, to protect himself now that he was strong enough, but last night, he was too tired. He couldn't bear the effort of hitting back.