John B catches JJ eyeing his sister, "She's off limits, dude." he warns him. JJ holds his hands up, "Understood, captain." he smirks... but oh, how he wished you were his.
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"you drew stars around my scars— now i'm bleeding."
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It was the second day without John B and Sarah. Kie and Pope decided to come over to the château to pay respects to John B. JJ suggesting to carve a head stone into the tree in the back yard.
You stand in front of the tree remembering the fond memories and accidents the tree brought.
John B falling out of it when he was 10, gaining a concussion. Scaring the shit of your dad who had to frantically drive to a&e
the swing your mother and father had made that started to fray by the time you and john B were 9– You and John B playing on it everyday after school. And how it snapped with you on it as John B pushed you too forcefully, landing you on the ground.
JJ at aged 16 climbing it after having a beer and falling onto his back, the pogues laughing as he brushed it off like it was nothing.
You and Kie betting the guys you two could climb it quicker than them— which was true— them having to pay for dinner as they lost.
Pope suggesting that you guys should add some hammocks to the branches, and you guys heading to get the supplies and DIY it yourselves. JJ hammering his hand during the process and JB gaining multiple splinters. Pope of course giving the boys heavy instructions as you and Kie held the hammocks up.
The hot summer days and nights the five of you would spend laying on the hammocks— sometimes falling asleep peacefully.
JJ almost setting the whole tree aflame, when he managed to find some fireworks to celebrate 4th July with.
And kie threatening to chain herself to the tree when your dad said he was gonna cut it down. Neither of which happening.
additionally, the many secret make-out sessions you and JJ had on the hammocks— which were always risky.
Pope grabs the axe you handed him from your shed, carving out some of the bark, exposing the lighter under layer of wood.
JJ heats up an iron using a blow torch. He walks up to the tree and starts to engrave it with the hot metal. As he finished he stepped back towards where you, Kie and Pope were.
It read, "2003-2020, John B Routledge, P4L."
"To John B." JJ says lifting his flask. You lift up the beer bottle you held and so did Pope. "And to Sarah." Kie say, the group nod. "To John B and Sarah." You weakly say, taking a swig of your drink— JJ and Pope doing the same.
You pick of the box of JB's belongs you had gathered. Closing the lid as you place it in a small dug out hole Kie had made. You kiss your fingers and bring them to the box shakily as the others start to bury the box with dirt.
