Nobody knew that life would be this way.
Not you.
Not John.
Nobody.
Nobody told you how difficult PTSD was to handle on the outside.
John's episodes broke your heart, it wasn't his fault. None of it was his fault.
He didn't tell you what happened before he was forced to retire. He would say, "I'm fine, everyone else is fucking dramatic."
But no, no. He wasn't fine.
You watched as he flinched at every car door slam, how fireworks forced him to drink until he was blacked out, how he struggled to put his head under water, how his wrists were scarred from rope or cuffs. You noticed the new scars on his throat and chest.. you noticed the growing fingernails that looked like they had to start over.
So, no. He didn't tell you, but it wasn't hard to figure out.
-
It was storming, as it usually did around this time of year. But John.. oh poor John, his eyes darted around at every lightening strike and thunder rumble. His hands fiddled with a glass of whisky anxiously.
He needed a distraction. He needed you.
-
It took days of convincing before tonight for him to let you clean his body and trim his beard.
You sat on the counter of the bathroom, John standing between your knees with his hands resting on either side of you as he kept his eyes closed. His breathing was shaky as you wiped the damp rag across his cheek. His knuckles were white, his muscles tense. Oh.. Poor John.
-
You frowned a bit as you pat the damp rag on his temple, seeing the muscles in his jaw tense. The silence was loud enough to make you sick to your stomach.
Of course you wouldn't pry to figure out details, the last thing you wanted was to have him relive that day.. or days. Or weeks. You weren't sure. You almost didn't want to know, actually.
-
John did his best to take in deep breaths, keeping his muscles tense so he wouldn't allow himself to step away. He trusted you. He trusted your gentle hands and the softness you carried. He trusted you to close doors softly and not let the washcloth get too wet. Oh how he loved you...
He loved the way your hair moved when you walked, he loved the way you danced when you cooked. He loved the way your eyes shine when you look up at him. He loved the way that ring sat on your finger just right.
You were his everything. He just wished he was better at expressing it.
"John.."
God he wished he was a better man these days. He wished he could hold you the same, he wished he could join you in the shower and slow dance under the warm water. He wished he didn't feel like he was a threat to you some days. He would never hurt you on purpose. Never.
"John."
Your voice brought him back, his eyes opening as he met your soft gaze. Oh.. those beautiful eyes.
"It's okay." You whispered, having set the rag down and gently began stroking his cheekbone with the knuckle of your pointer finger.
It's okay.
It's okay.
John nodded, letting his fingers uncurl from the fists he didn't know he was making.
It's okay.
"I'm sorry, Love." John whispered, his voice hoarse as he rested his forehead on your chest. "I'm sorry."
You shook your head, reaching up and lightly brushing your fingers through his hair, resting your chin on-top of his head. "Why are you sorry, John?" You asked gently, being careful not to touch any of the fresh scars at his hairline on the back of his neck. Oh, those scars... Oh, poor John.
"I... I'm not the same person I used to be." He said weakly, closing his eyes as he let out a soft breath. "Im sorry... I can't-... I feel like a child... I don't want you to have to deal with this." John muttered.
Your fingers froze for a minute before you let out a gentle sigh. "John... I-..." you trailed off, not wanting to overstep. "I don't know what you've been through... and I'm not going to ask you to tell me." You began, your fingers gently swirling around his dark hair. "I know it was awful... And I have zero expectations for you to be the same man from before that happened. You are still Johnathan Price, no matter what scares you, no matter what happened to you." You whispered, able to feel his muscles relaxing a bit as you spoke. "I will spend every night like this if it means that I still have you."
