Of Journalists and Knives. [ Johnny C. x Reader ]

"Six."

It occurs to you one day, while the sun melts away the last of the snow on the ground, that you are worried about Johnny.

In your time around him, he did nothing but impose and cause trouble, not to mention giving you trauma that you really think you should see someone about. Even so, you can't help but be concerned for where he has gone. You know him to be unstable, there is no doubt about that, so it only makes sense that you would assume the worst of his fate when you got that note. It was considerate of him to tell you he would be gone for some time, you suppose, but it was vague enough that it leaves you more frustrated than content. You doubt you could find him if you went out searching; he is not a missing dog, and the police still haven't managed to locate him. Why would you ever be able to?

Seeking him out would be regrettable, regardless. You should know much better than to even consider it.

You never even defined him as a friend, and you are fairly certain a few odd interactions does not a friendship make.

Whatever your relationship with him is, you can't afford to waste any more time on him. It's cold, you know that, but you have things that occupy your attention and mean more to you than he ever could.

You still wonder where he has gone when there is nothing else on your mind.

--

When letters start appearing in your mailbox with no return address after a few more months, as spring begins to manifest as buds peeking through the ground and blossoms on trees, you know already where they came from. There is no one else who would be quite so socially inept as to do that, rather than approach you outright. There is no proper signature, but you don't need one to understand. Johnny is alive, still, and that brings you a sense of comfort. You will always worry, though, about what happened to him that has made him disappear like this. So abrupt, after having no trouble inserting himself into your home and life before. You don't trust that there is nothing wrong. There must be, for him to be behaving this way. All that you need to know now is exactly what it is that's troubling him. You're fairly certain there's nothing you could do for him even if you did know, but curiosity is not selfless and you want to know for the sake of knowing.

You receive another letter on a lovely day, warm enough that you don't have to wear your jacket anymore, and you immediately rush inside to read it. You had planned on enjoying the sun a little longer, but you have to see what it is that he said this time.

'Today I realized something very important.

I won't go into details, not this time, but I realized that things have changed. I received a visit, if you could call it that, from a man a bit younger than myself. It did not end well. He was, to put it as politely as possible, absolutely intolerable. But the trouble is that he found me at all, you see? Before, no one looking for me was ever able to find me. It was only people stumbling upon the place by pure coincidence that ever showed up at my door. It's all very troubling. But it makes me wonder...

If you really wanted to, could you find me yourself?'

You set the letter down, exhaling a slow breath. That is an invitation if you have ever heard one. He wants you to seek him out like he did you, and you aren't sure where to begin with that. It sounds like an adventure of sorts, but this city is no small one. You wouldn't know where to begin, not with a search like that.

"Fuck..." You mumble, gently setting the letter alongside the others you have received. You don't want to lose any of them, so you keep them all together in one place. If you ever need to have them for some reason, you will ensure that you do. Some might call that thinking ahead. You consider it more a bout of paranoia, but you like how nice 'thinking ahead' sounds. You'll take that instead if someone questions you about it.

As you lay down in bed that night, you make up your mind.

You are going to take your next day off and dedicate it to finding Johnny. If you find him before the police do, then you'll be lucky. You can't say you have much faith in the police force, not after interacting with them directly, but you are still just one person and they are still a unit. They might find Johnny more easily than you. If that happens, you aren't going to be seeing him for a long time. You suppose you could visit him in prison, but you don't know the details of things like that. Would they allow visits to convicts like Johnny? Ones who show no remorse, who have taken more lives than you could ever count? You have a feeling the answer is no, but it isn't as if you have any experience to be certain. All you can hope for is that you'll find him first, so you can...

Well, you aren't sure what you want to do. Finding him is the first step. Everything after that, to be truthful, is something mysterious and unknown.

'Just take it one step at a time.' You think, trying to reassure yourself that it is a good idea as you drift off. A part of you knows that this will only turn out to be regrettable. That part of you is quickly hushed by the one that wants to see Johnny again.

You can't even begin to explain why a part like that exists at all.

--

When your day off rolls around, you get yourself ready for a long day spent outside. You can't say you're looking forward to it, mainly because this feels like a pointless pursuit. How are you meant to find the residence of one person in a place so massive as this? You are fairly certain that you can't. You have a place in mind to start, and that's all that you can say you actually have as far as a plan goes.

You are going to go to the absolute most shady part of town. The place that nobody goes, not if they want to keep their lives and whatever's in their wallet. You know it's a risk, but you hope that by going in the daytime, the heavy crime rates won't catch up with you. Besides, what's life without a little risk now and again?

You suppose that it is life, rather than death, but you try not to think too much about that for the time being.

The train ride to the general area you're aiming for is a long and boring one. You sit there, wringing your hands anxiously, until you see an old woman board the train at the second stop. You give her your seat and proceed to stand, just as uncomfortably. There is no way that this is going to work, you realize then. You aren't going to find him. You're going to take a massive risk for his sake and you're probably going to come up with absolutely nothing to show for it. How unfortunate that is, as you've already reached your destination and there's really no turning back now. There is, if you were willing to wait for the train to come back around, but you're not and you just want to get this over with if you're going to follow through with it.

Why couldn't you have decided Johnny would live somewhere nice, like the more upscale parts of town? What would have been wrong with taking a visit to the nice part of the city and calling it a day when you didn't find him there? That would have still counted as effort, would it not?

You wander out of the train station and out into the open. Immediately, you feel the tension in the air. You drift towards residential areas, wandering through them aimlessly. You try to keep track of where you're going, but it doesn't exactly work all that well. You feel sufficiently lost around the third or fourth block.

Suddenly, a house catches your eye. The windows are boarded up, and the grass is practically nonexistent, as if it has been dug up multiple times and patted back down again. The brick is worn, as if it has been weathered by things that even the decrepit houses around it have not been.

You decide you're going to get closer, just to see.

The path is crumbly, and you wobble slightly on the broken concrete that forms it. "God, what a mess..." You mutter.

Finally, you reach the doorway.

With your legs tense, poised to run away, and both hands clenched into fists, you knock on the door.

It opens.