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On Christmas Day, JJ wakes up on the floor of the living room not quite knowing how he got there. The fireplace is on, the tv muted, and John B is looking down at him, JJ’s head in his lap.
“Hey.” JJ’s voice comes out shredded, the sound like jagged glass through his throat. He cant remember what they were doing that lead him to this moment, but that worry feels secondary to the pounding beat of his heart in his ears. Even the purposely dim lights around him hurt his eyes and head.
Despite the ache, joy fills his chest. “Is it still Christmas?”
“Still Christmas,” John B confirms with a soft smile, brushing the hair from JJ’s forehead. “You had a seizure, it was just for a couple seconds.”
It feels like it lasted a lot longer than that, like he’s been laid out for hours. John B must see his eyes trying to track the minutes that have escaped him. “You were a little out of it for a while.”
Maybe this year he should’ve asked his specialist for an adrenaline prescription. He doubts she would’ve wrote one, but he bets if he begged hard enough she’d cave. For tonight, sugar cookies will just have to do.
Careful, prodding hands help JJ sit up and pull his mind back into the present. “May and Aunt Jodie will be here soon too,” John B reminds him.
JJ looks down at his sweatshirt and sweatpants, wondering if Christmas is supposed to be like it is on TV, with everyone dressed in nice clothes and their best jewelry. Even Shoupe was wearing a suit coat when he left for Mass this morning.
“Should I change?” JJ slept in this, his head on John B’s chest. He can still see the mark of drool he left on his shoulder. “You should change,” he decides, lazily lifting his arm to pick at the stain.
In the end, neither of them do, too lazy to make the treacherous hike up the steps. Instead, John B helps JJ steady himself and leads him to the couch. The whole living room around them looks like Christmas threw up. Shoupe said it was nothing special, but to JJ it felt like his own snow globe in here. Their presents to each other are under the tree, along with a couple from ‘Santa’ that made JJ ask if May was too old to believe.
“Those are for you, Jay,” Shoupe had said to him this morning, like he was dumb. “Gotta give you a proper Christmas, don’t I?”
JJ looks at those presents now and wonders how it is that his first gift from Santa in all his living memory is coming from the man who once arrested him.
Life is weird like that sometimes.
Somehow, he’s started to get used to it.
“You with me?”
JJ blinks the room back into focus, smiling up at John B. “I’m here.” Really, his mind’s nearly a hundred miles away, wondering what Luke’s Christmas at Wadesborrow County Prison looks like. He hopes the mashed potatoes are cold and the cells, colder.
In the past, Christmases looked like every other day to JJ. He’d wake up to a cold, silent house and—if he was lucky—Luke would be passed out on the couch. JJ would try his best to sneak past him and spend the day on the beach, as far away from his Father’s wrath as possible. For some reason, holidays were always the worst, Luke’s temper uncontrollable and an anger in him that trumped every other day of the year.
Maybe it was the stark reminder of better days that got him so worked up.
There were no string lights, no dinner marinating in the fridge, and no tree and stockings by the fireplace.
In one year, Shoupe’s already managed to give him the best Christmas he’s ever had and so far all JJ’s done is wake up from a seizure on the hard, half wooded, half carpeted living room floor.
If he could remember his Mom, he thinks maybe this would be a close second instead, but all he has of her is his blonde hair, blue eyes, and knack for pissing Luke off. There’s not a memory he can pull of her from this time of year, just the idea of the smile he remembers set in a backdrop his mind concocts of what Christmases should’ve looked like.
John B on the other hand remembers what this holiday used to be. Big John always made sure he was home with food on the table and a gift, no matter how small, wrapped under the janky tree they pulled from their shed each November.
Now, in a home that’s almost as comforting as the Chateau used to be when they were kids and Big John was alive, JJ grabs John B’s hand and pulls him to lay down with him on the couch.
There’s something about the nostalgia of those few Christmases that cant be beat, no matter how much better their lives are now. He gets John B’s head tucked under his chin and his hand finds its way home to the curls at the nape of his neck. “You doing alright today?” It has to be hard on him, to miss his father on the one day he always used to make it home for.
JJ feels John B shrug, the silence from him eating up the space in the room as they both think of Big John. Eventually the words come, long after JJ’s accepted his non-answer. “I just miss him.”
There’s a pain in those four words that can’t be expressed past the obvious. It’s soul crushing at times, mild at others, and hits you the worst when you least expect it to, over the smallest things.
JJ looks at the four stockings hanging from the mantle, one for Shoupe, JJ, John B, and Sarge, and thinks maybe the longing pain of missing what you once had doesnt always have to be debilitating. He’d like to think his Mom and Big John would be happy seeing them here, in a warm house with family on their way. They wouldn’t want them to be sad and hurting, mourning what could have been.
“We should start our own traditions,” JJ considers. To honor them. To prove to them that they’re okay. “We could make your Dad and my Mom their own stockings. Put up your Dad’s weird ornaments on a real tree. Maybe even break out the spiked hot chocolate.”
John B hides a laugh in JJ’s chest. “Dad would’ve loved to be here with Shoupe and you.” When he props his head up, his eyes are watering, a smile on his face so tight it looks like it’s choking the words right up in his throat.
JJ tries to soothe his fingers over his lips, tracing the tremble of them, but John B doesnt stay still for long. He leans forward, kissing JJ so softly and so quickly that it leaves him trying to follow him up for more.
“I love you,” John B reminds him.
“I know,” JJ smiles.
His face gets shoved gently away for his sass, John B rolling his eyes at him as the rumble of the garage sounds off in the distance.
He’d beg John B to stay on top of him, but it’s no use. He rolls off of the couch, sitting on the floor by JJ’s head, a safe distance away.
Shoupe is coming through the kitchen a minute later, the weekly church pamphlet in his hand and a soft, at ease smile on his face. “Merry Christmas, boys,” he greets, despite having woken JJ at up at the crack of dawn this morning to help him tie up the turkey while John B slept on.
They were trying ‘meat bondage,’ JJ had said when John B stumbled down the steps and asked what they were doing nearly two hours later with the type of bed head that made JJ want to tug his hand through his curls.
John B hadn’t been phased in the slightest. He took a seat at the kitchen table and sat himself down with a sleep-heavy sigh.’I dont think I want to know.’
Now, hours later, Shoupe uses whatever Christmas momentum he’s got going and tells them to join him in the kitchen, that he just needs to change.
They’re halfway there, John B supporting most of JJ’s weight, when Aunt Jodie and May come in through the door. Both their hands are full, May’s with presents and Aunt Jodie’s with a dessert that has JJ salivating already.
May’s load gets dropped the second she sees JJ. He’s been her ‘favorite person in the whole world’ (direct quotes and all) since they made flower crowns together. On weeknights they facetime, May babbling about school and JJ nodding along. He’s never had a little sister before, but he thinks this might be what it’s like.
“May Bug,” he coos, opening his arms for her. She’s little but he’s still recovering and the weight of her running full speed into him sends him stumbling until John B is there like he always is, his hands on JJ’s back to catch him and steady his stumble. It gives him enough stability to pull her up into his arms, squeezing her so tight that she shrieks playfully for him to let go.
When he does, it’s to see Aunt Jodie pulling John B into a hug with the same warmth she first greeted JJ with all those months ago when he wanted nothing more than to be as far away from her as possible. But unlike him, John B doesnt shy away from the attention. His arms circle around her with an ease that makes a pang of jealously squeeze at JJ’s chest. He wishes he could be like B, so open to love, so ready to accept people just as they appear to be until they prove him wrong.
It’s in his blood to go in expecting the worst, waiting for the eventual hit to come. At least with May he’s fine and with Aunt Jodie, well, he’s been working on it.
She releases John B just to open her arms to JJ, letting him come to her this time around. When he does, he’s flooded with the warm vanilla scent that clings to her, her whole aura maternal and kind in a way that makes him want to bury his head in her shoulder for just a second longer than he should.
Christmas, it turns out, isn't anything like he expects it to be. The clothes don’t mater, the presents are an afterthought, and JJ finds it’s not that different from every other day.
What has changed is the feeling in the air, this joyful, warm hue that makes the kitchen feel like it’s own stratosphere as they link hands to say grace while the food in front of them sends threads of steam through the air.
Christmas, he learns, is a feeling of peace, of togetherness. It’s sitting with his back being warmed by the fire, John B’s elbow bumping his, while May opens up the gift he got her with the money he’s saved now that every penny he earns isnt going towards just surviving.
Behind them, an old Christmas movie is playing on the tv, the flow of dialog buried under May’s excitement and the gasp of air that gets punched from JJ’s lungs when she launches herself into his arms to thank him for the friendship bracelet making kit he got her.
Thirty times he has to promise her they’ll open it after dessert and still thirty times more she asks where the scissors are so she can break it open herself.
Around midnight, Sarge nudges JJ’s thigh again, insistent in a way that makes Aunt Jodie run a soft hand through his hair before gathering May up in her arms to take her into the kitchen so that she doesn’t see him have the seizure they know is coming. “But I want to stay with JJ,” he hears her complaining as Shoupe’s hands help guide him down to the floor.
He’s still with it, waiting for the inevitable to come while his eyes watch the colors of the TV dance across the ceiling.
John B’s on one side, his hand holding JJ’s to his chest, and Shoupe is on the other, looking down at him in a way that feels apologetic.
“Hey,” JJ nudges him as well as he can while the world takes on that grainy, unreal look that lets him know he doesnt have much longer. “This is the best Christmas ever. Thank you.” He means every word, every syllable, right down to his core.
There’s no better outcome, no better family he could’ve gotten than the one surrounding him now.
He doesnt get to hear Shoupe’s response or the controlled panic that follows.
It’s a long one, JJ’s body sore and head swimming when he’s finally pulled from it’s clutches. Somewhere along the way they moved him to his side, his head in John B’s lap and the weight of four hands on him—Two of John B’s on his shoulders, holding him steady, and two of Shoupe’s on his legs, keeping him from turning onto his back.
Without being told, he knows it was bad and still he cant find the mind to care as the tree lights in his line of sight turn from warm white to a multicolor mix and back again. They look even better when his vision crosses, the hue of them expanding and taking up his whole line of sight until John B’s moving him, pulling him into his chest to stop the brightness from burning at his overly-dilated pupils.
The minutes it takes him to relearn the map of his body are calm. There’s no rush to sit up, no impatience from the two people at his side while his world rights itself, just a steady understanding that he will get up, that the world will level out, and that JJ will be fine.
The environment they create makes it easy for JJ to let himself recover until he’s ready and his hand is tugging at John B’s sleeve to ask him to move. Together they get him sitting up and together they eventually bring him to the kitchen, trailing away from him once he’s through the threshold so that he can walk over to May on his own two feet.
“Sorry, Mini May I got a little tired,” JJ apologizes, catching a chair unsteadily and heavily sitting himself in it. He doesnt miss the hand John B fists in the back of his sweat shirt to break his fall that he smoothly covers by putting his hands over the back of the chair to lean against.
“Can we still make bracelets?” She asks, looking at him with big eyes that he doesnt think he could ever say no to.
“Of course.” Though his hands tremble and the adults stay close, he’s fine. Better than fine, actually. Aunt Jodie and Shoupe make each other bracelets, May makes his, JJ makes hers, and John B makes one for Pope filled with hearts that JJ knows the girls will coo over.
It’s all so simple, but maybe that’s really what makes the day so extraordinary.
A one am dessert after turns into a two am movie, until May’s asleep on the floor curled around Sarge while JJ tries to fight the nod of his head.
He doesnt want today to ever end, or Aunt Jodie or May to ever go home, but everything has to eventually.
They eat leftovers for breakfast the next morning, play fetch in the backyard with Sarge, and around noon John B and JJ help Aunt Jodie pack up the car. The whole while, May’s crying big, silent tears on the garage steps.
“It’s just until next time,” Shoupe’s promising her, his arm around her and his body curled up on the step next to her.
JJ can admit he’s not far from joining her, his own tantrum over the relentless passage of time building in his chest as he already aches for the day that’s passed.
Hugs are exchanged, tears are wiped away, and JJ finds himself folding into Aunt Jodie’s hold last, hugging her with the warmth she showed him first.
When they pull apart, she doesnt let him go far, at arm’s length while she looks over him in a way that makes him feel transparent. “We love you, JJ,” she says, as true as the sun rising and as easy as breathing.
Not able to take it head on, he ducks his face, but she’s just short enough that it really doesnt help much. He can feel the smile on his lips just as he can feel the cool touch of tears on his cheeks. “I’m a bit emotional today,” he says self-deprecatingly, wiping harshly at the wetness marking his weakness.
“Nonsense,” she tisks, her own eyes watering. She presses his hands down just to wipe the soft pad of her thumb over his cheek. “You’re just happy.”
And, he realizes, he is. This feeling, this resilient pang of hope in his chest, really is just happiness.
“I am,” he lets himself choke out, laughing at himself and the way it makes more tears come.
She’s right there with him, unable to do much more than pull him back in and hold him through it.
It’s only after Shoupe’s gotten May in her carseat that his hands wrap around JJ’s shoulders, easing him back from his sister in a hold that feels more grounding than the very earth they’re standing on.
Like a real picture-perfect family, they wave them off, Shoupe’s hand never leaving his shoulder and John B’s fingers finding his.
JJ doesnt know it then, but for years to come Aunt Jodie will hug him goodbye on the day after Christmas, always pulling away to tease him gently about the tears they can’t seem to stop from coming at the end of each visit.
“Should we head in?” Shoupe asks, long after the car’s disappeared down the road.
JJ doesnt want to leave this moment, so scared one like it will never come again. Still, he pushes on, trying to ignore the damp mess of his sleeve and the way John B’s hand hasn’t left his waist as if scared JJ’s one more tear away from crashing out.
But he’s not running. Not again. Not from the family that brought him in and gave him a place at the table they carved from a genuine, full-hearted kind of love.
Back inside, Shoupe turns on him, tugging JJ into his arms right in the middle of the kitchen. His movement is quick and still JJ folds into him easily, letting go in the cocoon of his arms.
Sobs shake him, but with every gasping breath the strength around him presses harder, holding him together while he finally gives in to the idea that he’s surrounded by the type of love he couldn’t even dream of before because he didn’t know it existed.
“Let it out, Jay,” Shoupe whispers, swaying him gently.
Every time he thinks he’s calmed down, it hits him again.
This is his life now. Christmases, birthdays, anniversaries, all these little moments celebrated. He has a stocking, candles he’ll blow out year after year saved in the drawer next to the stove, and a place in a home that will outlast the very foundation the house was build upon.
This is love.
This is family.
When he finally pulls himself from Shoupe, it’s just to be taken into John B’s waiting arms.
They finally found the real treasure they were searching for.