The Chains That Bind - MLM (John Kramer X M!Reader)

Chapter 21: The Fractured Edge

The days seemed to blur together inside the dim, cold warehouse. The sound of machinery humming in the background was constant, broken only by the occasional clatter of metal tools, the footsteps of an apprentice, or the groan of some distant, unseen trap resetting itself. But lately, another sound had become just as common-a cough. A persistent, hacking sound that cut through the stillness like a knife.

John had always been meticulous in his work, methodical in his approach to everything. His presence exuded control, purpose. But now, that control seemed to be slipping away, unraveling before your eyes. For weeks, his condition had been worsening, the signs of his illness more apparent than ever. His once commanding voice had grown quieter, his movements slower, and the coughing fits more frequent.

You could see it in his face-his skin pale, his eyes darkened by exhaustion and pain. There were moments when he seemed too weak to stand for long, leaning heavily on the edge of his desk, his breath labored. It was a sharp contrast to the man who had once stood tall and unyielding, commanding his apprentices with quiet authority.

You had taken on more responsibilities in the past few weeks, not just with the traps and the tests, but with caring for John himself. Each morning, you brought him his medication, ensuring that he took the pills that would ease his pain, if only temporarily. You would make sure he ate, even though his appetite had diminished significantly, and on more than one occasion, you found yourself gently helping him to his bed when he was too weak to continue working.

John never complained, never acknowledged the severity of his condition. He would wave away your concern with a dismissive hand, insisting that there was still work to be done, still more lives to "test." But you knew better. The cancer was taking its toll, and no matter how much he tried to fight it, there was no escaping the reality of what was happening.

This morning was no different. The air in the warehouse felt heavier than usual, a chill creeping through the concrete walls as you approached John's room with a glass of water and his medication. You paused outside the door for a moment, listening to the rasp of his breathing, the low murmur of his voice as he worked through some calculation in his head. When you knocked lightly, there was no answer, but you pushed the door open anyway.

John sat at his desk, hunched over a stack of blueprints, his eyes scanning the paper as if trying to will himself to focus. But the way his hand trembled as he gripped the pencil was impossible to ignore.

"John," you said softly, stepping inside and placing the water and pills on the table beside him. "It's time for your medication."

He didn't respond immediately, his gaze lingering on the blueprints as though they held the key to something beyond what either of you could understand. After a long pause, he sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand across his face. His movements were slow, deliberate, as though even the act of sitting up required more energy than it should.

"I don't need them right now," John muttered, his voice rougher than usual, his eyes still fixed on the paper in front of him.

You frowned, stepping closer. "John, you do. You've been getting worse, and you're not going to be able to keep working like this if you don't take care of yourself."

His eyes flickered toward you, a trace of the old defiance still present in his expression, but it was weaker now. After a moment, he reached for the glass of water and the pills, swallowing them with a grimace before placing the glass back on the table.

"How long has it been since you've taken a break?" you asked, watching him carefully.

John didn't answer immediately. He leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly as his gaze shifted away from you. "There's no time for breaks. There's always more to do."