theydrewfirstblood | [PUMPKIN HOLLOW] INBOX

"That's not true."

The words are strangled, and thick with tears John refuses to shed. No more, not a single fucking one--he broke once, he won't do it again.

...yet one tear splatters against the tabletop, and John can't be angry about it. It's not the same as it was in the sheriff's station, it's just...

"We don't get grace. We don't get anything..."

For the second time since his arrival, the whole story slips out of him, a slew of words he can't stop, a tidal wave he can't stem.

Of how he fell out of line by doing what was asked of him. Of the crimes he committed by existing.

Of how every single time he's tried to reach for grace, for absolution, for dignity, he's been punished for the mistake of wanting.

In the telling of John's past, both of Chris's hands have come up to gently hold onto John's hands. And there have been plenty of sympathetic tears shed on John's behalf, even if he can't cry for himself.

"You were abused and hurt by your fellow man. Over and over and over again. And I understand if you don't trust people as a result. But when I spoke of grace, I didn't mean the kind granted by man." Chris says softly, "I misjudged you, John. I'm sorry for calling you a coward. But I'm not sorry for telling you that you should speak to Sam before you punish yourself. That part I stand by."

John doesn’t move. He can’t—Chris’s hands covering his burn just right, and too much, and it all still hurts but he thinks he can be warm enough if he just stays there and doesn’t do anything that makes them decide to move.

He nods when Chris pushes him to talk to Sam, however.

“I know. I do, I just—I did leave him something.” He admits, sniffing hard and blinking away the rest of the tears lingering in his eyes. “If he doesn’t figure out it’s an apology in a few days, I’ll…I’ll go see him. Explain. I just…”

He trails off, glancing up at Chris with a tiny, wry smile.

“I dunno if God’s got much grace, either. Not when I’m the last man standing, y’know? Not after what I’ve seen.”

Yeah, Sam might be getting clued in to John's way of apologizing at Chris's first opportunity...

"Well, you know. God's got God business to take of, and His plans aren't exactly comprehensible to us mere mortals." Chris gives John's hands a light squeeze.

"Can I give you a hug?"

John can’t suppress a shiver as that little bit of pressure, just for a second, makes the ache a little less intense.

“…please.”

Chris moves to stand beside John, then crouches enough to give him a hug, wrapping their arms firmly around his shoulders and squeezing him tight for a moment. Even after that initial squeeze, Chris holds on to John.

"I'm here. I'm here."

The moment Chris squeezes him, the tension slides out of John like water draining out of a tub. His hand lifts to cover one of Chris's forearms, and it's...

For a few glorious moments, he doesn't hurt. The touch burns, the pressure is too much--but he doesn't want it to end, and the longer Chris holds onto him the easier it gets to deal with. His thoughts are quiet, his heart can just beat.

I'm here. I'm here.

And John believes it.

He's not sure how long he's there, sagging in Chris's grip, but eventually his hand lifts off of Chris's arm and up to tweak a lock of their hair good-naturedly.

"Thanks, man--'man' like 'friend.' There a...what's it called...gender-neutral word for that?...'buddy' isn't too masculine, is it?..."

"Heh. 'Buddy' works. And there's 'pal', too."

Chris figures that John is worried about 'buddy' in particular because it's also a common man's nickname. Chris leans back, but keeps a hand on John's shoulder -- easy to shrug off if John wants.

"You still want me to figure out how many Hail Marys you gotta say?"

[PUMPKIN HOLLOW] INBOX

CW for linked information: police brutality, abuse, possible gaslighting?, & violence

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