Chapter Text
John didn’t know what sparked the idea. Maybe he got bored; maybe he needed something new - something more exciting than camping out in the mountains and eating leaves for dinner.
He rolled his tongue in his mouth and shuddered at the memory. Those were desperate times. John much preferred his grandma’s baking.
Oh! Maybe he missed grandma’s cookies. Yeah, that’s a good reason.
A good enough reason to find himself back at his old home. Standing in front of the door with his fist raised like an idiot because he’s too scared to knock.
John Dory: survivalist, King Of Mountains! Too scared to see his family again.
What a joke.
John took a steely breath, rolled his shoulders, and gave the front door a nice, firm, knock.
Perfect! His job here is done; he can just skip right on back to his cave and hide out for a couple more years.
John turned to leave, clasping his hands together with a job well done, except-
“You’re not leaving again, are you?” Rang a little voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Baby Branch.
Do not turn around. Do not turn around. Do not turn around.
John groaned and ran a hand down his face, admitting defeat. Curse you empathy.
“Branch? Grandma?” John called. He knocked on the front door again and gave the knob a few rattles. The only thing that greeted him was empty silence.
Okay, weird. Is no one home?
“Could’ve sworn that this was the place,” he muttered to himself as he scratched his chin. “Spruce? Clay? You there?”
John knew that they hadn’t ended things on the best of terms, but this was getting a bit ridiculous.
“Grandma?” John called, “It’s me, JD.” He rattled the knob again; pressing his head against the door when it didn't budge.
John closed his eyes and huffed out a frustrated breath. “Come on, guys,” He mumbled against the wood. “You aren’t still mad at me, right?”
It’s only been a few years, John told himself. They can’t still be upset.
No, grandma would’ve gotten over it by now; he’s sure of it. And the others should’ve come around; they’re brothers! They wouldn’t hold a grudge for years .
John hoped.
John gave an uneasy chuckle and peeled his face from the door. His fingers drummed against his arm as he chewed on the inside of his cheek.
Sleeping?
No, they definitely would’ve heard him knocking by now.
Maybe they’re out of town?
That sounded plausible. John did catch wind of a Bergen settlement not too far from there.
That thought… was a lot more unnerving now that he elaborated on it. The thought of Bergen’s picking his family off one by one-
John cleared his throat and shook his head determinedly. Happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts, like when Branch’s diaper got stuck on a cabinet.
The memory brought a fond smile to his face, but did little to swallow his anxieties.
Happy, Burgen-free thoughts.
A movement by the window caught John’s attention, snapping him from his ‘Burgen-free’ thoughts. He rushed over, sticking his face to the glass in an attempt to peer inside.
Okay. It’s okay. He’ll just see Floyd opening the curtains to see who’d be bothering them at 4 p.m. Or maybe Clay sticking his tongue out through the glass.
No Troll-eating Bergens. Just-
Nothing. Nothing but grandma’s curtains.
John sighed and smacked his head against the window. He hissed at the slight throb, but it faded quickly, and he was left alone. Again.
Some part of him wondered if this was how Branch felt. So small in a world too big for him.
Okay! Ending that negative train of thought before it can even leave the station. Hop aboard Positive Express! Choo choo!
This is fine. Come on, he’s John Dory!
He doesn’t - he doesn’t need anyone! He’s not a baby; not like-
Branch.
Man, Positive Express really needed some fixing up.
John smacked his head again as he muttered a string of curses. God, he really screwed things up, didn’t he?
He shouldn’t have left. But him and his stupid, stupid-
A click - multiple clicks actually - halted his train of thought. John whipped his head to the front door; his body reacting faster than his brain and within seconds, he’s standing inches away from the wooden entrance.
The door creaked open slowly - and a dim blue eye stared back at John through the crack. It looked him up and down warily before begrudgingly opening up the door a fraction more.
There, John could finally see his face. It was-
“Branch!”
John barreled through the front door, scooping his brother into a crushing hug. He nuzzled his cheek against Branch’s; his heart thumping in his chest - chasing away the former anxiety.
Branch pushed against him with a groan. “Get ‘offa me!”
John relented, but not before giving the youngest one last reaffirming squeeze. Branch staggered back and dusted himself off as John clapped his hands together eagerly.
“Man, Branch - buddy - you have no idea-” how much I’ve missed you goes left unsaid at the withering glare sent in his direction.
Okay, so apparently Bitty-B still has a grudge. No sweat! John can clear this up in a jiffy!
Ugh , John thought with a grimace. I’m already starting to sound old.
He cleared his throat awkwardly and rubbed his hands against his thighs. “I - um - how have-” He fumbled for his words as Branch rolled his eyes in typical teenager fashion.
Great save there, JD. You really won him over with that eloquent speech, he mentally kicked himself.
“How’s grandma been?” John finally settled on. “Where - where is she? She’s not been sleeping in late has she? ‘Cuz I’ve been waiting outside for like - thirty minutes Bitty-B.” He forced out a chuckle as he peered over Branch’s shoulder in the direction of grandma’s room.
“And - um - Floyd? Where’s he…?” John trailed off as he took note of the depressing state of the house.
The furniture was tattered and dusty, there was a layer of grime coating every surface, and don’t even get him started on the carpet.
It looked - well it looked disgusting, if John had anything to say about it. A stark contrast from grandma’s tidiness.
“Branch, what’s- what’s going on?” John finally asked.
Branch clenched his jaw - as if swallowing some witty remark - and motioned with his head for John to follow him to the moth-eaten couch.
John frowned and complied, but not before shutting the front door behind him; and locking it for good measure.
He padded into the living room to find Branch sitting on one of the recliners. A lamp was turned on, casting the area in a warm glow.
It highlighted the dust on the couch. The muddled gray the same color as-
John exhaled sharply through his nose when he looked at Branch again; really looked at him.
His hair was pitch black - a striking difference from the electric blue that he had as a baby. His skin was a dark, muddy, gray; even his eyes barely held a drop of blue in them.
He looked… stressed? Is that the word to even begin to describe it? Because in John’s opinion, his baby brother looked down-right horrible.
It looked like he hadn’t gotten a full night’s rest in weeks. His clothes were crumpled and his hands held a slight tremble to them.
John collapsed onto the couch, “What happened?”
Branch averted his gaze, but John couldn’t. Not when his brother - his baby brother was gray. So close to-
“You left.” Branch said flatly, “You all did. One-” He took a deep breath through his nose. “One by one, until it was just me and grandma.”
Grandma.
“Where is she?” John asked, “Why isn’t she out here yet? I mean, she can’t be that old-”
“Grandma’s dead, JD.” Branch spat. “She isn’t - she’s not coming back.”
What?
“What - what do you mean grandma’s dead? She isn’t - she’s not-” John laughed incredulously, bringing a shaky hand to run through his hair.
Just what the hell have I missed?
“It was Bergens. I wasn’t paying attention and-” Branch quickly wiped at his eyes. If John were looking anywhere else, he would’ve missed it.
“She was-” eaten, goes left unsaid. John cleared his throat, blinking hard to chase the tears out of his eyes.
“Yeah,” Branch said bitterly. “Yeah, she was.”
Dead. The word ran seamless laps around John’s head as he processed the information presented to him.
“And the others?” John whispered, finally looking down at his hands, his coat, anywhere other than Branch’s angry face.
“They left.” Branch scoffed, “not long after you did. One after - one after the other.”
“They left?” John echoed.
“Yes, JD, they left.” Branch snarled, “because somehow, going away and starting a whole new life was better than staying here and raising me.”
Branch shook his head incredulously at John’s bewildered stare. “It really shouldn’t come as a shock to you,” he muttered. “You’re the ‘leader’. You set the example.”
The words hit like a shockwave in John’s chest.
He had - John Dory - had caused this. He hadn’t realized how shallow his breathing had gotten until he took a sharp breath through his nose.
“I’m-” sorry , goes left unsaid. “I should’ve come back sooner.”
Branch didn’t argue with him, or try to prove him wrong, or anything like that. He just sat in his chair, exhausted.
John was too, if he was being honest with himself. Exhausted - that is.
He couldn’t wrap his head around grandma and, well, everyone.
“You’re the leader. You set the example.”
John massaged his thumb over the top of his hand as Branch’s words circled through his head. He was right, John knew that.
If he didn’t cause this directly, then he definitely did indirectly. John blinked hard, chasing away tears that were beginning to form in the corners of his eyes.
“Does it make a difference,” John asked. “That I’m back now?” He looked up to see Branch shrug, his eyes staring at the dirty carpet.
“Well I’m back now. And I’ll-” be the perfect older brother you need. Do more; be better. “Do my best.” John finished lamely.
Branch looked unconvinced, but didn’t push. Instead, he let out a sigh too big for a kid so small, and got up from the recliner. He popped his back and padded out of the living room.
Before John could ask what he was doing, he caught a face full of an old blanket.
“Grandma’s room is off limits,” was all Branch said before leaving John to his devices.
Somehow, he felt like the younger brother at that moment.
John could hear Branch double-checking, and even triple-checking the locks, before his footsteps faded to the back of the house.
He pulled the blanket tight around him and stared at nothing in particular with furrowed brows. This really wasn’t how he was expecting his visit to go.
John expected more hugs, or maybe tears of joy; not the bomb-drop that grandma was dead and that his brothers walked out too. He ran a hand down his face, stopping it at his neck.
It’s been a long day, and if John was being honest, he was even more exhausted from that conversation than the journey to get there. He glanced at the window to see the golden rays of dusk peeking out from behind a clouded sky.
John furrowed his brows, it’s that late already? Branch hasn’t even had dinner yet, and he could definitely use some meat on his bones.
He got up, leaving the blanket on the dusty couch, and shuffled his way to (what he remembered to be) his little brother’s room. John gave the door his signature single, firm knock, before backing away with his hands clasped behind his back.
“What?” Came Branch’s sour reply through the door.
“You haven’t eaten dinner yet.”
He could bear Branch groan through the door and mutter some admittedly, colorful, word choices.
“Language,” John reminded, as Branch cracked his bedroom door open.
His little brother glared at him through the crack, ignoring the reprimand. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”
“Nope,” John said, popping the p.
Branch groaned again and stormed past him to the kitchen. John watched as he slapped together a - rather pitiful - looking sandwich.
He took an aggressive bite out of it and glared at John. “Happy now?” He snapped.
John coughed in his hand to cover his laugh before motioning towards Branch. “You - um - you got something on your face.”
Branch shot him a withering look and swiped at his face, before stomping past John, back to his room.
John sighed, a bittersweet smile resting on his face as he flopped back on the couch again; pulling the blanket up to his chest. Things were going to be different with grandma-
He took a reassuring breath and shut his eyes. John rubbed at the corner of his eyes, willing his tears to go away.
John was the oldest, so now it was his turn to finally own up; to take care of his brothers - or brother - again.
An uneasy feeling washed over him. John hoped that - wherever they were - his brothers were safe. He picked at the fraying edges of his blanket with a frown.
I never should’ve left.
But the past was in the past, and John was here now. That’s all that mattered, right?
He let out a heavy sigh because he had a feeling that Branch didn’t express that same sentiment.
It’s fine. Everything was A-okay.
John Dory would handle it.