unStopabble | unOrdinary Fan-fic

Chapter 17

As the hot water beat down on his skin, John exhaled quietly. It felt so good. Simply standing there and letting the filth wash away, along with the reccuring thoughts of what happened over the past months. The tensions in his body eased and he could finally relax. Digging his fingers into his bangs, he combed the hair away from his eyes, instead pressing it back against the crown of his head.

Tickling him, the droplets sprinkled onto his face. He closed his eyes, humming lowly to himself. He was lucky to be back, with people who supported him. Somewhere where he could feel calm and protected. Although, he knew that EMBER was a force to be reckoned with so, when push comes to shove, he'd be the one doing most of the protecting. But at least he had a reason to fight, people who he cared about and they cared about him. He wasn't alone anymore.

"Calm down, you're not alone in this mess." He remembered Leilah's words, "There are other ways, have hope."

She saved him. But...she got him caught in the first place. He was frustrated. John's feelings didn't make sense to him. He should be pissed at her or whatever. He had a right to be. She even said herself that he didn't have to forgive her or show her any gratitude! So why did he move past it already?

Back in the alleyway, he was angry. At her and at himself. He was done. But, when she begged him to stay for Sera, he could hear the pain and regret in the woman's voice. The sorrow. So, he couldn't help but feel for her. He shared those same demons afterall.

For a moment, it seemed like someone understood exactly he was going through. It was reassuring. So he agreed to stay. Not to mention, she reminded him of Sera. Sure, there were some obvious differences, but when John was with Leilah, he felt comfortable... it didn't make sense!!

Shaking his head, he turned to navigate the shampoos and body washes. He was confused by why there were so many, why would anyone need two different types?

Once he finished cleaning himself, he promptly turned the shower off and wrapped himself in a dry towel. Stepping out onto the bathroom floor, he noticed his reflection in the mirror. His wet, black hair was plastered to his forehead, parts of it going halfway down the bridge of his nose. It was clear that he needed either a haircut or a headband.

At this point, he'd grown used to seeing his gaunt and sickly features but the one thing that stood out the most was the branding on the nape of his neck. There was no way of hiding it; it was a huge red mark. One that could be easily recognised by anyone who watched the news over the past year. He hated it above all else. All else to do with his appearance, at least.

Lowering his glance, he reached for the clothes his dad found for him and put them on. Continuing to adjust his shirt, he looked back at his reflection. He sputtered with laughter. The top and jeans were obviously too big and, sort of, loosely hung off him. Plus, his hair was beginning to poof up again. He looked like a mess. But it couldn't be helped.

Picking up his old, stained t-shirt, he neatly folded it in half and then again. He did the same with the trousers. After hanging his damp towel up to dry, he walked out into the hall. Holding the clothes to his chest, he stepped into the living room, where Blyke was typing something on his phone enthusiastically.

Awkwardly walking past him, John placed the clothes in the bin but was surprised to see shreds of black fabric already there. He tilted his head, was that his coat? Shrugging it off, he trurned around. It's not like he was going to keep it anyway.

Pouring himself a glass of water from the tap, he sipped quietly and leaned against the counter top. He peeked up from the cup, noticing thats his dad wasn't here. Becoming uneasy, he looked around, panning the space. His hold on the glass tightened. Where did he go? He wouldn't  abandon him now, right?!