Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first thing Pope Heyward noticed about the Outer Banks was the smell. No matter if he was inside or out, everywhere he went he could smell the salt. He hadn’t lived this close to the ocean in his entire life and if he was honest, he already drastically preferred the OBX to living on the mainland, based on smell alone.

He stuck his hand out the window of his dad’s truck, earning a snap of protest from his mother-- something about getting his hand cut off, but he wasn’t really paying attention. All he could focus on was the fairly large house appearing in view.

Standing out front was his grandmother, her nurse, and Kiara Carrera, the girl who lived right next to his grandma’s. Or as Pope knew her, the first girl he’d ever had a crush on.

He burst out of the truck before it had even fully stopped, his mom scolding him yet again. Pope ran towards his grandmother, careful to not actually run her down. The last thing she needs right now is a broken hip along with the cancer. 

His grandmother--his father’s mother--had beat stage three bone cancer way back before Pope was even born, but like a lot of cancer patients, it came back. 

With its return, came the return of Pope and his family to the Outer Banks. It’s where his father had grown up and now, where Pope would spend the rest of his teenage years, not that he was complaining though. He’d always wanted to learn how to surf and he was excited to reunite with Kie after all these years of just texting. 

He was worried that it would be awkward between them and she proved him right when she smiled weakly and gave him a timid wave. It had been too long since they’d come back to visit his grandmother, and too long since he’d seen Kie. She was tall now. That was weird. Well, she was still much shorter than him, Pope being a proud six-foot seventeen year old, but she was eye to eye with his mother. 

“Hey stranger,” she said, voice still as sweet as always.

Pope didn’t respond and chose instead to wrap her into a tight hug. Within seconds she was hugging him back, her dozens of bracelets digging into the back of his neck. But he didn’t mind, he was just happy to be back.

See, Pope had had a bit of a rough go of it back home. He hadn’t really lucked out in the friend department, but he at least had his scholarship going for him. That is, until his teacher decided he wasn’t a good fit and didn’t submit his application. Funnily enough, that was right around the time he came out as bisexual. Weird coincidence, right?

And though Pope was angry that that was how it all went down, he was determined to leave that in the past and start over fresh. Maybe he wouldn’t have that specific full-ride scholarship, but he could probably still score a few smaller ones. Look on the brightside and all that bullshit. 

Whatever. It was in the past and what happened in the past should stay in the past.

———

It was around midnight when they finally drove up to their new house. It was a quaint little thing, but Pope’s family was also quite small, so they were happy. 

Upon entering the house, it became increasingly apparent that it hadn’t been refurbished since the 90s. It was clear someone had attempted to modernize it, though they failed miserably. His mother tutted something about having to redecorate before taking him upstairs to see his new bedroom. 

If he thought the nineties vibes were overpowering before, they were infinitely increased the second he stepped past the doorway. His bedroom had freaking shaggy carpet. Of course it did.

As much as his mother assured him that they would remove it, Pope knew that given the circumstances of their return, it was close to the bottom of their list of priorities. That was okay though, he could deal with a little bit of poor interior design choices.

If he was honest, the main thing he cared about at the moment was his new bed. Pope didn’t even wait to take his shoes off before collapsing on top of the duvet.

———

The sun rose earlier in the Outer Banks. He knew moving to the east coast meant earlier mornings but still, this was just cruel. Pope begrudgingly pulled himself out of bed and towards his window, preparing to shut the blinds. Right before he pulled the cord though, he spotted a kid out on his front lawn. Some random sixteen year old who, for some reason unknown to Pope, decided to get up at four in the morning and take a nice little stroll to their driveway. 

Pope shook his head and told himself he was just overtired and hallucinating, so he closed the blinds and went back to bed. 

Chapter Text

When Pope finally woke up for real, it was to the sound of his father calling out to him from downstairs. Seconds later, the front door slammed and Pope dragged himself out of bed. The last thing he wanted to do right now was to go grocery shopping, but his parents were with his grandma and he knew he had to help out at least a little. So he pulled on some clothes, tied a bandana around his forehead, and headed outside.

It wasn’t particularly warm out, and Pope was already regretting his choice to wear shorts. For a moment he considered turning around and changing, but he knew if he went back to his bedroom he’d fall right back asleep. Who on Earth decided it would be a good idea to open grocery stores so early? 

He resigned himself to finishing the unnecessarily long walk through the woods, (seriously, was there not a closer store?) and tucked his hands away in his pockets to save them from the bite of the wind. This is not the climate he remembered from his old visits.

When he was little, the Outer Banks seemed like paradise. Endless beaches, year-long summers, constant access to the ocean, no wonder he idealized it so much. 

Now, the OBX just seemed to represent everything which led him to move here: loss.

His grandmother’s cancer relapsed, he lost his biggest shot at a future, he still seemed to have no friends, besides Kiara maybe, though she kept mentioning her other (real) friends, so maybe not.

Stay positive dumbass , he told himself. He refused to get stuck in his head on his first real day in his new home. Not that he really considered this home yet. Or that he considered anywhere else his home.

Oh my god. What did I literally just say?

Stay. Positive.

Or, at least get the groceries and then go back to bed and wallow.

That sounded nice. 

Pope would never openly argue with his parents when it came to helping them out, but he sure would scuff his shoes against the gravel the entire way to the store, solely out of spite. Whatever, he was jet lagged, and had a weird-ass hallucination last night. He was allowed to be grumpy. 

The funny thing is however, that Pope’s hallucination was all too real, something he very quickly realized upon turning the corner of the path. 

Right smack-dab in front of him was the blonde kid from last night -- morning? -- thin legs tangled in the branches of a big oak tree. Pope glanced upwards for maybe a split second, though to be honest, he would’ve stared if he could.

Pope wasn’t an idiot. He knew that the reason why some random white kid from a red state was stalking him at the ass-crack of dawn, was probably not because he wanted to be friends. But Pope was also only human, and when he saw a pretty boy, he liked to take in the view. The only upside here was Pope’s scientifically wired brain: he could take in like six metric buttloads of information in a handful of seconds. Like for example:

• Stalker’s blonde hair was actually not quite blonde, but an ashy grey-ish colour.
• Stalker had blue eyes. Like really blue.
• Stalker dressed in vintage clothes.
• Okay, Pope had actually only seen his shoes but they were vintage Nikes so whatever.
• Stalker liked nature? Maybe? He was staring at the trees in the distance, but maybe he just didn’t have a phone and was bored? That’s probably not the case though since having a phone seems a pretty critical part of being a stalker…
• Stalker seemed not to even notice that he was walking beneath him.

That was probably the weirdest part in Pope’s opinion. Just from an hour at his grandmother’s last night, four of her neighbors had come over to meet the newbie, which translates to: this is a small ass town and news travels fast.

Then again, Stalker probably knew who he was already considering, you know, the stalking.

Pope tried to shake off the itching feeling on his skin, his brain desperate for new information, and continued on his walk. He was sure he’d run into the boy again but for now, he just wanted to get his groceries and go back to sleep.

Chapter Text

A few (boring) days go by, Pope and his parents all busy getting situated in their new town. Kie was sweet enough to volunteer to introduce him to her friends and give him the ‘Grand Tour,’ which consisted of her running around showing him all the best surfing spots. Literally nothing else. Just surfing. Which he mentioned several times that he could not yet do. Miraculously, one of Kie’s friends, John B -- not John, that was a very important distinction… for some reason -- decided to give him a real tour and finally Pope felt like he could at least make his way to his grandmother’s with only two wrong turns.

Somehow, in all this exploring, Pope had never seen Stalker once. Not since his grocery run, that is. And it’s not that he missed him -- because of course he didn’t, they don’t know each other, that would be really fucking weird -- it’s just that Pope’s naturally curious demeanor was suffering with this lack of excitement. Pope has always wanted to be one of those kids in books who were, for some unknown reason, tasked with saving the world, or solving a mystery, or who find out they are the chosen one, or some equally unrealistic bullshit. The shrink his parents made him see after he lost his scholarship said that it was a product of his own vision of his self worth. Or as Pope liked to call it: a bunch of random words jumbled together in an attempt to sound smart.

Of course, as the owner of a scientific brain, Pope knew that was not the case and unfortunately kind of understood what she meant. He saw his only value as his accomplishments. Well don’t worry shrink, he’s well aware of that. And he’s trying to fix it! It’s not quite working yet but maybe one day? Unlikely. 

Oh well.

It was on one particular mind-numbing evening at home alone that Pope decided to actively seek out his stalker. You know, like a smart person would do. The weather had drastically improved since his first day in the OBX, so Pope didn’t even bother to pull on his sweater before running out the door. 

The first place he decided to check was that tree where he saw the boy last. Pope strolled through the forest, the crickets practically deafening the deeper he traveled. “Stop being horny,” he hissed at them, though the crickets did not listen and continued their loud as fuck mating ritual. 

“Fine.” Pope rolled his eyes and kept walking down the path. “Don’t listen to me.”

The crickets kept chirping, but this time, they weren’t alone, a small snickering sound emerged between the calls. Pope glanced up from the ground and tried to make out the source of the sound. It was too dark to see who exactly had laughed at him but based on which tree the laugh was coming from, he could guess. 

He’d finally found his stalker. That’s cute.

“Yeah whatever,” he shouted up at the sky. “At least I don’t watch people while they sleep.” And with that he promptly turned on his heels and all but ran out of the woods. It’s not that he was scared of the dark, he was too logical for that. He was however pretty fucking scared of the sheer amounts of pain humans could and would inflict on each other. The last thing he wanted was for his parents to find his body cut up in tiny pieces and buried beneath that very tree, just because he was a little bitchy to someone who knew where he lived . 

Maybe his mother was right about him watching too much true crime, all he really did was call out the stalker on, well, being a stalker. No crime there, right?

Probably not, he decided, though he wasn’t convinced enough to not bolt every lock on their front door, and place a chair under the doorknob, just in case this isn’t Stalker’s first rodeo.

Despite his precautions, Pope didn’t sleep a single minute. He tried, he really did. But any temptation to sleep was immediately squashed when he peered out his window to see who else but Stalker, standing on his yard and staring directly through his window, straight into his eyes.

Yeah, no fucking way was he going to sleep with that psycho outside.

Chapter Text

Recently, Pope had started taking a different route to the grocery store any time his parents asked him to go. Could you blame him? He really did not want to be murdered right now. Maybe in a few months, who knows? Things change, maybe his will to live will too. Hopefully not, Pope had a whole future mapped out in his head, the last thing he wanted was for his life to be cut short. So he took the long way to the store, twisting through uneven roads and sketchy alleys and even the occasional backyard. And only sometimes did he get yelled at by some sunbathing 50 year old.

Ever since he changed his path, Pope couldn’t help but notice that he hasn’t even once run face to face into his stalker. Still though, sometimes when he wakes up late at night, he can vaguely make out the mess of blonde curls, standing, staring right up at him.

It’s definitely not freaking him out at all!

But no matter how creeped out Pope was, the curiosity surrounding this boy never once faltered or faded. In fact, it only grew stronger with every passing day. Mostly because his stalker only grew creepier and creepier with every day, even the ones where Pope wouldn’t see him at all. Or as interpreted by Pope’s weirdo brain: his stalker only grew more and more intriguing with every passing day. See, fall was here now and school had recently started up. He should rephrase that. Fall was here and the only school on the island was now in session. Had he seen the stalker in class though? Not even once. Pope knew the normal questions that would arise upon sharing this information: “What if he’s just skipping? You might not have classes together! Maybe he already graduated?” And to that, Pope could supply these answers: “School’s been in session for almost a month already, no one skips for a month straight.  It’s a small ass school, he would have seen him at least once. And lastly, the kid could pull off pretending to be fourteen, not eighteen.” Unless he’s actually fourteen. That would be gross considering the slight tiny crush Pope doesn’t have on him. So Pope decided he’s not fourteen, he’s probably sixteen. Hopefully.

What if he was wrong though? What if his ‘answers’ were just assumptions. None of his information was sound enough to be taken as a fact and that just annoyed Pope further. He couldn’t even ask his new friends about him since he didn’t even have a real name for the boy yet, unless Stalker counted. It probably didn’t. 

So while others were falling asleep on their desks all around him, Pope was flicking through yearbook after yearbook, trying to find any information on the guy.

Here’s what he’d gathered so far:

• Stalker must have dropped out of school.

Okay, so it wasn’t much. In fact, it was nothing. The drop-out rate at that school was not admirable, and that’s an understatement.

Pope wanted what he’s always wanted since the moment he learned how to ask a question: Answers.

Can you really blame his stupid teenage brain for concocting some god awful scheme to get those answers? Probably.

_____

Pope stared at the clock. 1:34am, it read. Rolling off of the bed, Pope snuck his head upwards and peered out the window, but there was absolutely no sign of his stalker. He sighed, slumping to mimic just how crestfallen he felt and reluctantly peeled himself away from his window. The, immediately fell backwards onto his bed. Like, literally fell, because Pope’s dumb ass thought keeping his lights off would convince the stalker he was sleeping. His plan accommodated for every possible outcome. Well, every possible outcome except one. His plan did not accommodate for the possibility that his stalker would  suddenly lose interest in him. 

Pope wasn’t disappointed… except he was. It was strange to admit, but this boy’s fascination for him stirred something deep inside Pope’s chest, even if the rational part of his brain told him a hallmark romance story wouldn’t fall out of this. 

But hey, he was a romantic so he could hope. Or, fantasize might be a better word since the thing he was hoping for had less than a zero percent chance of actually happening. 

Flopping over onto his stomach, Pope let his head fall onto his pillow. He wished he could be more restful than he was, but he was his mother’s son, patience didn’t come easy. Every passing second was like torture. Just waiting and waiting and waiting for something that might not even come. 

The worst part was that even if the stalker didn’t show up, Pope still wouldn’t be able to fall asleep because he idiotically chugged an energy drink less than an hour ago. It was his first time ever trying an energy drink actually and fuck if it wasn’t infinitely stronger than coffee. Pope wasn’t sure he’d ever sleep again.

Pope was lost in his thoughts when:

A rustling of something came from below his open window. In seconds, Pope was on his feet rushing to see the culprit. The somewhat gorgeous, slightly deceased looking culprit (People who look half dead and like they could be ghosts are hot, shut up). Except instead of his Stalker, he met eyes with a cat. A fucking cat. Unless this was some McGonagall type situation in Harry Potter , Pope didn’t want to see that cat ever again.

Collapsing back into bed once more, Pope resigned himself to a sleepless night. Hey, maybe he could at least get some extra studying in?

Chapter Text

It was around 10am when Pope finally pulled himself out of bed, a new plan in his mind: just go fucking talk to him. Not that he hasn’t tried that before but hey, third time’s a charm, right?

Walking out the door, pocket knife in hand (just in case), Pope hurried down the trail leading to his stalker’s favourite hangout. Well, favourite hangout besides Pope’s front lawn, that is. A tiny voice at the back of his mind kept calling out to him that this plan would also prove fruitless, but he ignored it, intent on making something, anything , interesting happen. 

It was early autumn, meaning every tree lining the well worn path was burning with orange and red leaves. They hadn’t quite reached the point where they would fall but Pope was okay with that. This was his favourite season. Right in between summer and fall, where the days were still hot but the nights were cooler. If you were lucky, you could find bright purple and blue flowers still in bloom and no matter where you looked, the forest was glowing with amber light. Pope inhaled, filling up his entire chest in an attempt to steal the crisp scent of the forest and keep it bottled up inside him forever. He realized that even if he didn’t find his stalker, he wouldn’t even for a moment, consider this walk a waste of time.

Pope tiptoed around a curve in the path outlining a small stream that tore through the damp earth, the tips of his sneakers browning from the mud. His brand new sneakers from his grandmother. Groaning, Pope leaned in over the river and dipped his toes in, the icy water soaking through the canvas and freezing his toes. If this goddamn mud didn’t come out he swore he’d throw a tantrum, despite being seventeen years old. He watched intently, peering to see if the running water was doing anything besides dropping his body temperature, but he couldn’t get a clear view. Stupidly, he leaned in further forwards. So far forwards that when he heard that familiar raspy laugh, he fell face first into the water.

The stream was not deep. Pope made that realization the second his face tore against the rubble underneath the water. Gasping and spitting out water, he shot his eyes upwards to glare at that blonde boy in front of him.

“Thanks for that,” he spat, not missing the way the boy’s face went pale with his words. Pope stared at him expectantly, holding out his hand towards his stalker and waving it around in front of him. “You gonna help me out of here or what?” 

Blondie faltered for a few seconds before practically running up to the riverbank to grab his hand. Pope decided it was better for his sense of self to ignore the way his heart leapt in his chest when their hands made contact. Once his feet hit solid ground, he looked into the boy’s eyes one more time. This time with a hint of something mischievous. Stalker squinted, clearly picking up on that glare though he wasn’t quick enough to escape when Pope lunged at him and wrapped him in a tight embrace that ended with both of them winded on the forest floor.

Let’s make this very clear: Pope was not hugging his stalker. He was getting revenge. Stalker gets him wet, he gets stalker wet, it’s the law of the jungle.

Finally, the boy managed to wriggle himself free and groaned, looking down at his own damp clothes. “Fuck you,” he sighed. 

Pope usually had pretty good control over his mouth and the words that came out of it. This was not one of those times.

“I’m down if you are.”

He couldn’t help but cringe at himself, opening his mouth to apologize for his impulsivity when a sharp laugh broke it’s way out of the other boy’s mouth.

“Jesus,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You’re really something aren’t you?”
Something about his laugh was so deeply enchanting to Pope that he couldn’t help but join in himself. “My bad,” he giggled, daring once more to look into the blue eyes across from him.

Stalker smiled gently and glanced down at Pope’s shoes. “Hey, at least you got the mud out,” he said, and sure enough, when he followed his stalker’s eyeline, Pope’s shoes were clean. Wet, but clean.

“Thank fuck,” he grinned.

A moment of silence passed between them though it wasn’t tense. There wasn’t any animosity in the air which was honestly just really confusing. Pope had just tackled the guy, but he didn’t seem mad. He actually seemed pretty content. 

“I’m,” he started, but Stalker cut him off.

“Pope, I know.”

Pope clicked his tongue. “Right, yeah. ‘Cause of the stalking.”
“I wasn’t stalking you.”
“You were definitely stalking me,” Pope retorted, his head swinging around to stare at the other boy with a disbelieving expression on his face. “Do you know how many times I woke up to find you outside my house. That shit is creepy with a capital C.”

“I wasn’t stalking you,” he said, sticking to his argument from before. His argument, which was clearly bullshit, as proven by the countless times Pope has seen him staring through his window .

“Then what,” Pope sighed. “Were you stalking my dad or something?”

Stalker shook his head, a twinge of annoyance making its way into his scratched raw voice. “No, I was stalking your house.”

——

“My house?” Pope asked. “How do you stalk a house? It doesn’t ever move. There’s literally nothing to stalk. That’s just called looking at a house. Are realtors all stalkers then? What’s even the logic behind-”
“Oh my god,” the boy exasperated. “How does your brain even function with that many questions rolling around inside there?”

“Not very well, thanks for asking,” Pope replied, deciding to actually stop annoying his house’s stalker with a million questions. He left a pause of silence for the boy to start explaining himself but nothing was said. He widened his eyes pointedly, and only then did he seem to get the hint.

“I used to live there,” he said.

“Oh.”

The boy furrowed his brow. “What, disappointed are you?”

Twisting the corners of his mouth downwards, Pope shrugged. “That’s just such a boring normal answer. Here I was thinking that something cool might actually be happening and it turns out my stalker wasn’t even stalking me, he was stalking my house because he was homesick.”
“I can start stalking you if that’ll make you feel better,” he offered.

Pope rolled his eyes. He’d say yes in a heartbeat if that meant they could start hanging out for real and spend time together, but he knew that wasn’t the case. He was only offering to be nice. The kid was just homesick yet Pope managed to convince himself he had a real stalker. Maybe his mom was right about how much true crime he watched, Pope made a mental note to tone down the Netflix.

“Oh also,” the Not-stalker said, “If you want to know something interesting, my mom died in that house.”