LIV.   teaching a dog not to nip

warning: mentioned of suicidal tendencies and hallucinations

The first few days were easy. They were trying to navigate how to live their lives on Poguelandia. Bridger had the survival instincts of a cockroach if he was being honest. He never had to worry about not having a roof over his head or if he'd be put out on the street. He didn't grow up with the struggles that the others did. Sarah never did either until now. It was a fish out of water situation. Quite literally in this case. But he used to go fishing with his dad and Rafe and Ward, so he had some knowledge on how to catch fish without poles.

Bridger had broken off a bunch of tree bark from the trees and he and JJ took turns sharpening the old into points with JJ's knife. "Does this look sharp enough to you?" He asked and showed the blonde his.

JJ observed it. "Uhhh, not sure." He held up the palm of his hand. "Stick me."

The brunette poked his palm.

"Ow!" JJ yelped and retracted his hand. "Yep. That's sharp." He winced at stared at his now red palm.

Bridger chuckled. "Okay." He gave him back his pocket knife. "Are you about done with yours?"

"Uhhh, yep. All done." JJ answered and held up his sharpened stick.

"Alright, good. Now all we gotta do is burn 'em."

The blonde watched him stand up and he smirked. "Look at my smart guy. I like this side of you."

"Oh, just this side?" Bridger teased.

"Course not. I just think you're increeedibly sexy as of this moment." JJ emphasized and stood beside him, still smirking.

"Alright, calm down blondie. We got work to do." The brunette laughed again and pointed the sharpened end of the stick into the fire. "The fire will harden the ends of the sticks and make it easy to piece the fish."

JJ stifled a laugh. "Harden. Kinda like my—"

Bridger made a loud zipping noise while simultaneously zipping his mouth.

The blonde's mouth clamped shut. "Sorry."

John B rushed over to the fire. "Hey, Mr. and Mr—" his words trailed off and he pointed between them. "Have you two ever discussed that?"

"Uhhh," Bridger said and the boyfriends looked at each other. "I mean, I think Bridger Maybank sounds pretty cool, don't ya think?"

JJ nodded. "Yeah, but, come on. JJ Fitzgerald? Sounds so sophisticated." He said with a shoulder shimmy and a goofy smile.

John B hummed. "Yeah, I like Bridger Maybank better." He claimed.

Bridger laughed at JJ's jaw dropped expression.

"So, uh, how's the spears coming?" He moved on.

"I think they're. . ." The brunette trailed and took his spear out of the fire. He eyed the burnt tip and smiled. "Done."

JJ whooped loudly. "Yeah! Let's go catch some fish, baby."

The pair of them became the ones on food duty. Pope and Cleo were the best at scavenging for berries and fruits in the island. Sarah, John B, and Kiara made the baskets and leaves for them to drink out of. Each of them had their own job, their own means of keeping them alive.

Bridger always did say he wanted to get out of the Outer Banks, that he was ready to experience something different. It only took him a week without a shower to realize he was dead wrong. Not even trying to bathe in the ocean helped him. "Oh, I haven't felt this disgusting since I had to go camping with the golf team that one year and the seniors threw me into the mud."

He heard Sarah giggle. "Wow, I remember that. It was you and Topper wasn't it?"

"Yep. We were the only two freshman on the team. Easy targets."

There was a silence. It was comfortable. Kiara was helping John B make baskets while JJ was working on his Poguelandia flag. Pope and Cleo were getting coconuts and berries. They'd been on the island for almost two weeks now. "Do you miss him?" Sarah asked him.

"What do you mean?" Bridger asked, feeling confused.

"Topper. Do you miss him?"

He immediately scoffed. "Hello no."

"It's okay if you do, Bridge."

"Well, I don't. I don't need Topper anymore. I got you guys." He said with a half smile. Bridger stood up in the water and dunked his head under. He came back up and wiped his face sunburnt. "That felt good."

Sarah kept herself afloat. "Your cheeks are so red." She giggled.

"Yeah, I know. You know I burn easily."

By the end of the next three days, things had began to change. The mood shifted. The rose colored glasses were gone. Bridger's brain had began to fog. Being away from home for so long was changing him. Being stuck on the island gave him more time to be trapped in his own thoughts, something Bridger always tried desperately not to happen. Everybody had noticed it yet none of them asked him what was happening. In a way, he was thankful so he didn't have to talk about it.

Bridger lost track of how long they had been on the island. Each day was the same: they'd wake up, they'd swim in the water (John B and Pope were lousy at trying to make surf boards out of wood and leaves) they'd catch fish and eat dinner, explore the island, plays games that they would randomly come up with — truth or dare, never have I ever, most likely to, etc — then they would go to sleep and it'd start all over again.

Most nights were thrilling. When they were all together, chaos was bound to happen. JJ had never looked happier than he did being on the island. He had nothing to hide, nothing to be sorry for, nothing to regret. He was with his family.

Bridger was so sunburn that it started to hurt. His fair skin was turned red, his nose, cheeks, and chest blistering. His hair was growing out from not being able to cut it and the Pogues caught first glance at the natural curls he had. "Yo, you where'd those curls come from?" John B had gasped and ruffled his hair.

"My mom." Bridger had answered almost sheepishly.

When he was a kid, he always got compliments on his hair. It was just like Jana's, dark and curly. Bridger had stopped wearing his hair curly a few months after his mom died. He cut it a certain way, gelled it, and brushed it to look completely different. He looked too much like his mother with curly hair. It was too much of a reminder.

Pope and Cleo were great scavengers it turned out. They found a variety of fruits that Bridger had no idea what they were but they were edible (or so he hoped). The two had brought back a shit ton of berries in one of the baskets the girl's had made. Bridger had watched his mom on occasions make homemade juice for breakfast. She'd mash the fruit in a bowl and put it in a juicer. Unfortunately, he didn't have a juicer, so Bridger used the end of JJ's knife to mash the berries into a bowl Sarah made out of wood. He put a leaf on the bottom to keep from mixing splinters into them.

Pope sat across from him, peeling mangos for them to eat for dinner along with the fish they caught. He paid attention to his body language. Pope noticed how quiet he'd been recently, how distracted. Bridger wasn't his goofy self. He always appeared to be sad. "Hey, you alright man?"

Bridger didn't look up. He continued to mash the berries in the bowl. "What do you mean?" He asked, almost dismissively.

"It just seems like something's going on with you. You've been. . .distant."

The brunette scoffed a small laugh. "I'm fine man. Really. I'm just not used to being away from home this long. And I really miss my shower."

Pope chuckled. "Yeah, there's definitely a truth to that. I miss my toothbrush."

Bridger laughed again. He paused his mashing. "Oh god, yeah. If we ever get back home, I'm going take the fattest shower and then drown myself in cologne."

The two boys laughed at once.  Pope watched him continue to mash the berries and his face fell immediately when they stopped talking. The worry he felt inside of him increased. "Is that what's wrong? You miss home?"

Bridger shook his head. "Nah. No, of course not. Why would I? I got nothing there." He said in a sad, monotone voice.

Pope found himself frowning. "I'm sorry, man."

The brunette looked up again. He smiled but Pope could tell that it was fake. "All good, bro."

"Bridger."

Bridger jolted awake, the first thing meeting his eyes was the night sky. He sat up quickly, looking around at all of the others and he saw that they were still asleep. His brows furrowed.

"Bridger, sweetheart."

He felt a sharp pain at the front of his skull. Bridger winced and closed his eyes. He recognized that voice he was hearing. He felt as if he was in a dream or some far away planet. Anywhere but here on the island. He opened his tired eyes and rubbed his head.

JJ was asleep next to him. Their heads were positioned across from each other, a silent agreement to be next to each other in case of danger. His blonde hair was blowing in his face and Bridger watched goosebumps appear on his skin. He smiled gently.

A gust of wind chilled his bones and Bridger looked up. His heart almost stopped when he saw his mom standing by the water, wearing the black dress she was buried in. "Mom?" He slipped out.

Him and his mom locked eyes and Bridger tried to determine if this was real or if he was in a dream. He saw her on his dreams, he saw her when he was spaced out, he even heard her voice often, but she was right in front of him. Jana Fitzgerald no longer looked sick. She looked healthy. She didn't look dead. She looked alive.

Bridger watched his mother turn around and walk through the sand away from him. "Mom?" He said again, his eyes welling with tears. He felt himself rise to his feet and begin to follow her. He was careful not to step on any of his friends.

Every part of him was shaking. He felt sick. He felt like his skin was wax. He was sweating. Bridger followed behind his mother, his eyes trained on the back of her head, and he suddenly felt like the little boy he once was begging her to stay with him, to not leave him alone in this world. He was never good with change. Bridger always wanted things to stay the same. He didn't mind being trapped inside the bubble wrap as long as he had his mother to share it with.

He's always been more dog than a person. Change wasn't good for him. It causes him to unravel like yarn, his chest burns at the thought of his perfect life becoming not so perfect. His mom was gentle while his father was mean. Bridger didn't know what side he fell under. He was a violent dog with sharp canines and yet he whined pathetically when his father would hit him, proving that he wasn't so violent. So he loved like a dog whose canines were falling out of his mouth; like a monster, like a beast, like something not worth loving back.

Bridger was so out of it that he didn't realize where he was going. He climbed the rocks, passed by the trees, tried numerous times not to fall, all to keep up with his mother. The sickness inside of him increased, making it feel like his insides were rotting. He called out to her again and gain, but she never turned around. It hurt him. It was so inhuman. "Mom," he muttered dizzily. Bridger blinked and he stopped when he didn't see her anymore. "M-Mom?" His voice shook.

"Bridger, sweetheart. I'm right here."

The brunette climbed another thing of rocks. His mind was clouded, his vision blurred, but there was determination in his heart. Bridger saw her again, her hair blowing in the wind, her back to him. The heavy wind caused the ocean waves to crash loudly. His lips parted. "Mom?" He spoke vulnerably and took more steps towards her.

Jana Fitzgerald slowly turned around and met her son's eyes.

"Bridger!"

The unfamiliar voice caused him to blink. Suddenly, Bridger didn't see his mom anymore. There was nothing in front of him but the ocean and he looked down, seeing that he was on the edge of the cliff. "Wha–" he started to say when the confusion settled in. He turned around and saw Pope standing there with wide eyes.

"Bridger, w-what the hell are you doing?" Pope stuttered, his concerned eyes examining him. His face was filled with tear.

"I-I don't know. I-I thought I s-s-saw—" Bridger stuttered uncontrollably. He blinked and felt the tears in his eyes fall. Anxiety formed a large pit in his chest and it squeezed, causing a pain to spread all through his body. The overwhelming sensation caused his legs to weaken and he collapsed to his knees.

"B!" Pope immediately rushed to his side. He dropped to his knees by the crying brunette. "Bridger, what's going on? Why did you come up here?"

"D-Did you follow me?"

"You've been acting weird for days now and then I saw you walk this way. I had to follow you." He explained himself. Turning his head, Pope saw the others from a distance, all of them still sleeping. "Bridger, please tell me what's wrong. You're scaring the fuck out of me."

Bridger swallowed a painful lump like he tried to swallow pills. He was never good at swallowing pills. He cried to himself. His mom wasn't here. He did wasn't here. His life had fallen apart so quickly. Everything he thought he knew had plummeted. His want perfect. Being "perfect" didn't save him from pain and that was the hardest pill to swallow. "I don't know what's wrong with me." He whined like a beaten dog. He felt Pope put his hands on his back and shoulder and he quickly looked at him, his eyes widening. "You can't tell any of the others, especially not JJ. Please promise me."

Pope stared at him, still concerned but now he was conflicted. He immediately thought of JJ and what he would do if he found it. He knew Bridger wouldn't want to worry him. But he was also in pain. It was clear and visible. Pope was his friend. What would happen if he kept this a secret and something were to happen? "I promise, B. It's alright."

I apologize if this was kind of all over the place, I have the hardest time writing Poguelandia scenes without any source material