A/N:Gif isn’t mine. If you’re the creator, please let me know so I can give you the credits.
Pairing: John Wick X Reader
Word count:2.2K
Requested by:@massive-freaking-fox
{“My new neighbor is simultaneously the scariest and nicest people I’ve met.” But with John Wick and reader? Like the reader is his new neighbor and kinda a slow burn after she gets over being intimidated by him?? Idk I like all things fluffy and that sounds like a good one}
The wind messes with your hair, making a shiver roll down your spine. Pulling your feet up on the small, wooden table you have on the front garden of your house, you can’t help but stare at the bigger, larger house beside your own. But it’s not the house itself that gets your undivided attention. It’s the owner. The man with the weirdest routine you ever knew. You’ve seen him, messy hair, playing with his dog, but also in an impeccable dark suit, hair slid back. When you see him like that, he’s gone for a while. Days, weeks.
The look in his eyes used to scare you. You had the feeling that his stare alone was enough to make people shake like a leaf, surrender everything they own.
You remember the first time you laid eyes on him. Taylor, the only friend you had made back then, since you moved here, asked for your company on a morning walk. She lives down the street, so you joined her when she passed by your place. A few steps and something caught your eye. You saw him moving inside, through the windowpane, and for some reason, you stopped, shamelessly staring. He was facing away, his strong, muscular back everything you could see.
“(Y/N),” Taylor called you. “Oh.” She mumbled once she noticed what you were looking at. “That’s Mr. Wick. I don’t know the first name. He’s not very social.”
The man turned around and you involuntary held your breath. The way his dark hair fell on his face, hiding his eyes made you give a step back.
“Hey,” Taylor called you once more, snapping a finger in front of your face. “I know he’s hot, but I can’t believe you’re already daydreaming.”
“What?” You finally looked away, eyes now focusing on your friend. The feeling you had was far from what Taylor suggested, but it was still unnamed. “I wasn’t daydreaming. Let’s get moving.” When you started walking again, you couldn’t help but give one last look. And you felt like hit by a car when you got him already staring, straight at you.
The memory makes you shiver more than the wind, which gets colder every passing minute. The sun is setting, and soon it’ll be dark. But you’re still looking at the house, which it’s empty. Mr. Wick. John Wick, left more or less a week ago, dressed to impress as usual. Your mind floats back to the day he told you his first name, the day when he didn’t make any effort to hide he was interested in you.
The accidental meeting happened a few weeks after the first time you saw him, after a handful of times that you bumped into each other on the sidewalk. He always smiled kindly and greeted you with a good morning or a good evening. But on that particular night, after you left Taylor’s house and started making the way back home, a storm broke loose and the sky fell on you. You had been feeling ill all day, but chose not to give much thought about it. But then, under the cold, heavy rain, you had to focus on keeping your legs working. Bracing yourself, you groaned when your foot slipped, making you fall, your arm hitting the ground hard.
“Damn it.” You muttered, the loud noise of a car stopping suddenly getting your attention. The rain clouded your vision as a blur moved towards you, and arms pulled you up, back to your feet.
“Miss (Y/L/N).” He had said. “Are you alright?”
You could only nod, the words caught in your throat because you were aware of how close to his body he was holding you. Mr. Wick stood tall, way taller than you, like a tower. You didn’t want to, but the cold was taking over, and your body collided against his, seeking some warmth. “I’m ok.” You lied, looking up and meeting those dark eyes, as dark as the night that surrounded both of you. That time you noticed he was much older than you and the proximity allowed you to feel the muscles under the suit. You couldn’t help but feel intimidated, suddenly so small and fragile.
“Come. Let me drive you home.” Mr. Wick guided you to his car, opening the passenger door and helping you in. You were feeling terribly dizzy, so you didn’t complain.
“I-I live on the house next to yours.” You said, shaking like a leaf. “On the left.”
“I know.” He answered, giving you a worried look.
Once he stopped by your house, you opened the door and started making the way to the front door, thankful to reach the porch that offered shelter from the rain, but not from the cold. You searched for the keys, but soon enough you remembered you had left them at Taylor’s, on her kitchen table. Alongside your phone.
“Shit.” You whispered to yourself, looking over your shoulder, seeing that Mr. Wick was still standing there, in the rain, as if waiting for you to get in.
You didn’t quite understand why you felt so scared of him when he had been nothing but gentle to you on every single occasion you happened to meet. But the very sight of him sends a wave of nervousness through your body. Mr. Wick walks, talks, and even breathes like he hides something, a secret, dark and dangerous. Or maybe it was just the cold and the dizziness messing with your head.
“You may go, Mr. Wick. I… I will have to get back to my friend’s. I forgot the keys.” You told him, pushing the wet hair away from your face. “And my phone.”
“I won’t let you go back there in this weather. You’re clearly feeling sick.” Mr. Wick walked over you, reaching out his hand. “Come to my house. I’ll make something warm for you to drink and you can use my phone to call your friend.”
Your answer would be no, obviously. But a flash of bright lightning crossed the sky, followed by a rumble of deafening thunder, which, it seems, was loud enough to open up the skies and strengthen the rain, if that was even possible. “I promise I only want to help.” He said, and that made you nod and step forward, taking his hand.
Mr. Wick had an arm around your waist during the short walk to his house. You breathed out, relieved for the warmth when you stepped in. While he disappeared into the house, you seated on the coffee table instead of the couch, since you were soaking wet. He was quick to bring you a towel and a tea, handing you his cellphone. But for some reason, Taylor wouldn’t pick up, so you had no choice but to hand Mr. Wick his phone back. It seemed like the whole Universe was against you that night.
“She won’t answer.” You said feeling his fingers brushing on yours when he took the phone from your cold, shaking hand. Looking up, you noticed he changed into dry clothes. Jeans a white T-shirt. He looks handsome, as he always does. There must be a reason for him not to have a girlfriend or anyone in his life. There must be a catch, a plot twist somewhere here. Someone looking like Mr. Wick must have a long trail of hearts wanting to belong to him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Wick, for all the trouble I’m causing you.”
“You may call me John.” He said, sitting on the couch before you. You didn’t know why, but it came out to you that he moved like a predator, steady and always in full alert. But his voice was kind, low and calming. He knew you were scared of him, of course, he did. Nothing goes unnoticed by him.
“You may call me (Y/N), then.” You muttered, sipping on your tea.
“A pretty name for a pretty lady.” The compliment made you smile, looking down to hide your blushing cheeks. “I can give you dry clothes. Until you get to contact your friend.”
And so he did. Mr. Wick… John… Gave you one of his sweatpants and shirt, and you changed off of your soaking clothes. You felt stupid, ugly, in his baggy clothes, bracing yourself as if trying to disappear as you made your way back to the living room, ignoring how cold the floor was under your bare feet. John’s eyes lingered for a while, as you walked over him, taking a seat on the couch, keeping a distance.
“May I… May I ask what do your work with, Mr… John.” You corrected yourself and he smiled. The question only came up because the silence was as intimidating as him. Any kind of conversation would help, you thought.
“I’m retired.” He simply said. “What about you?”
“I’m an office administrator. From a… An office that sells medical equipment.” God, you sounded like an idiot. You felt so small, tiny, compared to him. And ugly, set side by side with him. From this up close, his handsomeness was shocking, breathtaking. The way his eyes were set on you made you shiver, clearing your throat, you tried to push the words out. “I just started though… I just moved here two months ago.”
“Am I making you uncomfortable?”
His question got you by surprise, and you looked up, meeting his intense eyes. “No. I just…” A humorless laugh left your lips, and you pushed the hair away from your face. “I must look so bad in these.” You gestured at yourself, and then to him. “And you’re just… More. I mean…”
You froze when you felt his hand on your face, fingertips running across your jaw, leaving a trail of fire. “I think you look beautiful. Even on my baggy clothes.”
You suddenly realized you wanted to kiss him. The sudden change was a surprise, and you were perplexed with yourself. The fear was slowly sinking, opening a new space, which was being filled with something else. Curiosity. A sudden need to know why John was touching you so gently, why he was saying those things. You felt your body moving closer to him, almost as if being pulled involuntary, like a magnet. You wanted to touch him, to know how he’s beard would feel under your fingers, but you didn’t know if you could.
“Can-can I…” You stuttered, biting your tongue. How was it possible, that your mind worked in such a weird way? That all of a sudden, you wanted him, the man you’ve been trying to avoid? You were a mess that night, threatening to fall apart right before him.
John took your hand, softly, bringing it to his lips and placing a kiss on your fingers, as soft as silk. You felt his stubble, eyes fixed of the shape of his lips. “You don’t have to be so nervous around me, (Y/N),” John said, his voice barely a whisper. “And, if you want, I’d like to take you out on a date.”
“You want to take me out?” You repeated, speaking too fast, trying to understand why in the hell would a man like John wants to go on a date with a girl like you. It didn’t make sense, and you had this feeling that trying to understand would only lead to a dead end.
“I do.” You muttered because there was no other possible answer. Another kiss came, this time on your cheek, dangerously close to your lips.
A car approaching drags you away from the warm memory, and you’re finally able to avert your eyes from his house. You miss him, and somehow looking at the empty house makes you feel a little better. He did take you out, on the next night. And you have been to several dates by now, too many to count.
“My neighbor is simultaneously the scariest and nicest person I ever met.” You told Taylor on the day after your second date with John Wick. She laughed and you blushed, because on the night before, John kissed you by your front door, for the first time. You had to tiptoe, despite the high heels you were wearing, your arms quick to pull him closer, welcoming his touch.
“Are you in love with him?” She asked, smirking.
“I think I am.” You admitted on a low voice.
John Wick was a patient man. He waited, he worked hard to make you feel comfortable around him. And he succeeded.
Today, you smile to yourself. The intimidation John caused completely replaced by love. The kind of love you never thought you’d feel, the kind you didn’t even know existed.
“Sweetheart.” A voice reaches you, carried by the wind. Immediately, you put your feet down and stand up, turning to find John, stepping out of his car.
“My love.” You run into his embrace, arms wrapping around his neck as you tiptoe to kiss him, his soft lips suddenly making the cold leave your skin. “I missed you so much. If I knew you’d come back today I’d cook something nice for you.” Whispering, you don’t step away from his embrace.
“That’s even better because now I can help you.” His deep, strong voice still sends shivers down your body, but for a very different reason now.
“Let’s go then.” Smiling to him, you entangle your fingers on his, following his pace to his house.
The place that once terrified you now feels more like home than your own. As does John. In his arms, you find solace, safety, unending love.
Summary:Keanu found the girl almost dead, in the wrecks of what was once her car. While she was in surgery, stuck in a coma, he gathered the best doctors of New York to attend to her. They told him she is likely to have some kind of brain damage, what may lead to memory loss. And this possibility added up wit the fact that she’s pregnant, made the council come up with an odd idea. They asked Keanu to pretend to be her husband, since the stress of finding out everything that happened could put the baby in danger. He reluctantly agreed, but only if she does has some kind of memory loss. He still goes she’ll wake up soon, with her memories intact.
But when you finally wake up, there’s nothing inside. You’re quick to find your head is empty, void, like a blank canvas. The only thing that brings you some relief, that makes you feel less lonely is the mention of a husband. And you can’t wait to meet him, because you know you can’t deal with this by yourself.
Life has a weird way of turning things around. Of putting people in the most unlikely scenarios, and leaving them on their own to try and figure out what to do next.
Keanu’s mind has been restless since the moment he saw the bleeding, unconscious girl inside that wreck of a car, four days ago.
It was on the side of the empty road, and he was just about to drive pass it when something made him stop. Whoever caused it was gone, and there were no words to describe the sting on his chest when he saw her. The next moments happened in such a blur that he still has a hard time trying to put everything together. He remembers carefully lifting the girl’s body off the wheel. He remembers checking her heartbeats, so faint and weak. And he surely remembers calling an ambulance and staying there, hoping, praying she wouldn’t be just a corpse when they got there.
He couldn’t quite see the extension of the damage since he was too scared to move her around. The girl wouldn’t wake up, it didn’t matter how many times he called, and as time passed, minutes passing by impossibly slow, he felt his heart sinking. Over and over again, he placed two fingers on her neck, just to make sure she was still alive. Her breathing was shallow and fast, and Keanu couldn’t even notice in his agitation. There was way too much blood coming from a wound on her forehead, and more staining her light blue blouse. He couldn’t believe he’d watch her die, right there before his eyes.
A wave of relief washed over him when the ambulance came, and he watched, helplessly, as they put her on the stretcher, pushing it to the back of the ambulance. A man had spoken to him, he’s not sure what, but his legs carried him to the ambulance with her, and there, seated between two paramedics, he looked at the girl, once again praying she’d survive the ride.
She did. She was strong, the doctors said, and had successfully recovered from the two surgeries she had to go through. There was a lot of internal bleeding, they said, and now, the girl was in a coma. And nobody could tell how long it’d take for her to wake up.
But that was four days ago. Today, still at the hospital, Keanu tries to focus on whatever the council of doctors are saying. He had paid for everything, and he wouldn’t have anything less than the best health care for the girl. (Y/N), he had found out. A beautiful name, that he thought suited the girl perfectly. Seated on the head of the table, Doctor Wright speaks of her condition, but Keanu’s mind has drifted away a while ago.
“Mr. Reeves?” The woman, Alice Harris, gets his attention. She’s the psychologist involved. The only reason why she’s here is that there was damage on (Y/N)’s brain. There’s a sixty percent chance that her memories were affected. They don’t know how much yet, but they’ll be ready to deal with whatever happens when she finally opens her eyes again. If she ever does. But Keanu won’t give this possibility any thoughts. “Are you willing to do this?”
“Do what?” He didn’t want to come out as not being interested in this. He was. But he can’t pretend he knows what he would be agreeing with.
“Mr. Reeves, I know you’re also affected by this. We all can see it. But we need you to have your mind clear.” The surgeon speaks, his hands cupped together, lying above (Y/N)’s papers. “If not, we’ll place her under our care until we can contact her mother-in-law.”
“Mother-in-law?” How much of the conversation did Keanu lose?
“Let me.” Dr. Wright says. “Mr. Reeves, we have made some research on our patient’s life. (Y/N) had just moved here, and unfortunately, she lost her husband only two weeks ago in a work-related accident.” This time, Keanu pays attention, his eyes focused on the man. “The only other person she has here is a friend named Laura Thompson, and her mother-in-law lives in Argentina, Lucia Davis. A few friends from her hometown, but nobody else. Nobody here who can help her through… Her condition.”
“There’s still a chance she’ll remember, right? Forty percent.” Keanu could only imagine what it’d be like. He’d never wished that on anyone, waking up one day with nothing inside. No record of who you were before. And he didn’t want this for her. Not after what she’s been through. “If she’s alright then–”
“It wasn’t about this condition I was talking about.” He cuts off, sighing and exchanging a glance with the neurologist. “Mr. Reeves, (Y/N) is three weeks pregnant.”
There’s a sudden buzz on Keanu’s ears, as his brain tries to process what he just heard. He’s quick to make the math though. Three weeks pregnant, lost her husband two weeks ago… She was just starting to plan everything, probably just about to break the news to him or the family, and then, he died. That was probably the reason for her accident. Driving fast, tears clouding her sight, wondering what she’d do now, all alone, with a kid on the way. “Everything you need me to do, I will. I’ll pay for anything she needs, it doesn’t matter how much.” The words flow out, almost a living thing.
“Dr. Harris raises a hand to stop Dr. Wright, who was just about to say something. “Mr. Reeves, as we already said, we fear that our patient will have some kind of memory loss if she wakes up. And people on her position are always scared, and the feeling of being lost may drive them into self-destructive behaviors.” The woman speaks slow, and Keanu sighs. He’s suddenly angry, wanting people to just spit everything out so he can understand what’s going on and decide what to do with it. Bouncing his leg under the table, he nods, urging her to continue. “In that scenario, knowing about a pregnancy can make things take a bad turn, and even put the unborn child in danger.”
“What will you have me do?” He bursts out, impatiently. “If you need another specialist, or transfer her to some other hospital, do it.”
“What we need is far more complicated than that.” She continues. “A little unusual, but I believe it will work.” She takes a deep breath, fixing her glasses. “Mr. Reeves, we need you to introduce yourself as being (Y/N)’s husband.”
“What?” He inquires, unable to believe his ears.
“If she wakes up–”
“When.” Keanu is quick to correct her, his voice letting it show how anxious he is.
“When, forgive me.” Dr. Harris mutters. “It will be better if she has someone close. And a husband, since she’s with child, will certainly give her peace of mind until… Until she remembers. If she remembers and if she does have a memory loss in the first place.”
Keanu looks down at his hands, resting on the wooden table before him. He should say no. This is way too much, too much of a crazy idea to follow up. But these are the best doctors money could pay for, and he did say he’d do anything that could help her. But he’d never thought this would be what she needed. There was no other option to him, that much was obvious, even if he didn’t want to admit it right way. “Alright then.” He agrees, nodding.
“Good. We’ll contact her friend and mother-in-law to let them know about this.” Dr. Wright says, getting up. “I’ll need you to attend some meetings, Mr. Reeves, there will be some things we’ll need to discuss.”
“Sure.” As if he hasn’t been coming to the hospital every day to visit the girl.
The days start passing a little faster now, as Keanu meets up with the psychologist to make things ready in case she wakes up. They said there’s no need to rush, that it may take several weeks, months even… But Keanu won’t share their skepticism. He believes she’s coming back soon, so he’ll have everything in place for the biggest lie he’d ever tell. He has the excuses in place, the backstory, everything. He even has the fake ring already, and he never felt so bad as he did when buying it. But still, he carries it in his pocket every time he goes visit her, hoping she’ll wake up.
Two weeks have passed, and today, as usual, Keanu looks through the open blinders, his eyes set on her sleeping figure. (Y/N) looks so peaceful in his eyes, as if she’s simply sleeping. He can’t help but admire her beauty, even in a simple hospital gown, with her hair a little messy, she looks pretty. His eyes drift a little, all the way to her stomach. It’s still flat, but he knows there’s life in there, growing. A life that will need their mother. “C'mon, (Y/N). Wake up.” Keanu mutters, his voice barely a whisper.
After a few more minutes, he leaves, walking slowly through the hospital, all the way to his car in the underground parking lot. On the drives seat, he looks at the wheel, the door still open, and he thinks. About everything at the same time. The wrecked car, the blood, the girl, the pregnancy, the lie… It all comes flooding his mind as he runs a hand through his dark hair. He’s so drowned in his head that he almost doesn’t hear the phone ring. But when he does, Keanu easily finds it in his pocket, not even looking at the screen before picking up. “Hello.” He mutters, ready to dismiss whoever it is. He needs to go home, to sleep, to put his mind in place.
“Mr. Reeves. She’s awake.”
You still can’t put things together. The woman has been talking you through it since yesterday morning when you crawled back into consciousness. She told you everything. How you ended up here, to begin with, but it doesn’t matter how hard you try, you can’t remember it. In fact, you can’t remember anything. When you began to freak out yesterday, a nurse came and gave you something that now forced you to calm down. So you just lie there, staring at Dr. Harris as she tries to help you. But she’s failing because your mind is completely empty. The tears keep rolling down, one after the other, and it doesn’t matter how much you dry them, more come soon after.
How is it even possible? How can someone lose everything they were? Everything they had? Shaking your head no, you close your eyes shut, not wanting to listen anymore. Her questions remain unanswered because you just don’t know the answer them. The only reason you know your name and age is because she told you. But all the rest… It’s a mystery. It’s gone.
“I can’t.” You mutter, running a hand through your forehead. “I can’t remember. You’re not helping.” Crying again, you bite back a sob. “Please, just… Don’t I have anyone? Parents? Friends? Anyone… I…” You can’t be alone in the world. There has to be someone, a familiar face who will bring something back.
“You’re parents passed away when you were young, sweetie.” She says, and another sob erupts from your mouth. “But you have a husband.”
You’re not sure how you feel about it, with too many conflicted sentiments flooding your heart. But you do feel… Relieved? You’re not alone. There’s someone who could help you through, who knows you. “I-is he here?” You stutter. “Can I see him?”
“Sure.” She stands up from the armchair she positioned next to your bed. “I’ll call him.”
Nodding, your eyes are on her back as she leaves. Using the bed’s remote control, you move it up until you’re in a seating position. The minutes go by and you’re still alone. The blinders are closed, so you can only see shadows passing by. Maybe he got tired of waiting. Maybe he–.
“(Y/N).” The strong, deep voice calling your name gets your attention, and your eyes find the man standing some feet away from the bed. He’s… Gorgeous. Tall, with long dark hair, which falls on his face, hiding his eyes a little. His beard gives him an atmosphere of mystery but makes him even more handsome.
Is that him? Are you really married to this man? “Are you…” The words fail you, and your voice fades.
Summary:Two years after John breaks up with you, somehow you manage to move on. But in a mysterious party, that ghost from your past comes back again for a very specific reason.
You are somehow enjoying the party. The beautiful hotel hall, wonderfully decorated, is eternalized in the pictures you took with your phone. Your friends and family keep you occupied, walking around, all smiles and laughter.
Youwere somehow enjoying the party.
Because the moment you spotted him, across the place, everything changed.
John Wick is an old flame. Well, not that old. It’s been only two years since he broke up with you, and a year after you found Duncan, your boyfriend. But John was never truly gone. Not from your head and not from your heart. It didn’t help that he’s close to your father, close enough to be invited today. And it surely doesn’t help that you kept in touch with the man.
The texts never stopped, even though you haven’t met face to face since you went separate ways.
And you never thought you’d feel this way seeing him again. Like your heart was pulled off your chest. Like the gravity is too much for you to bear.
John nods at you, a small, quick smile on his lips before he looks down, then focusing his attention back at the man he’s talking to.
It takes all your strength not to go there. Not to jump on his arms. Not to cry, or yell. You didn’t think you were still in love with John Wick. But now you know you are.
“(Y/N)!” Angela, your childhood friend gets your attention. Trying to get yourself back together, you look at her, faking a smile. “I need to talk to you.” Pulling you away from the others, she has a smile so bright on her lips you feel a little embarrassed not to return it.
“What is it? You look like you just won a million dollars.”
“Well, I was suspicious given the proportion of this party but now I know.” Holding both your hands, she tilts her head to where Duncan is. “And I was right. He’s going to propose.”
Your fake, small smile drops as you feel your body going cold. “What?” You mumble, suddenly feeling people’s eyes on you.
“(Y/N), honey, are you alright?” Angela asks, eyes scanning your face. “You’re pale. Aren’t you happy?”
Taking a deep breath, you force the smile back. “Yes, of course I am.” Nodding to her, you look at where John was. But he’s gone. “I’m just surprised.”
“As would anyone be!” She happily adds. “I’m so happy for you.” Angela pulls you into a hug, which you weakly return.
“An, I’ll talk to some people. Talk to you soon, alright?” You’re quick to excuse yourself, keeping the smile on.
“Sure. Bye, honey.”
“Bye.” You mutter, turning your back at her and searching for the closet exit.
The party hall is surrounded by an amazing garden, and you’re thankful for the chilly night air because it’s keeping everyone inside. And you need to be alone right now.
Marrying Duncan never crossed your mind. Part of you knows you shouldn’t even be dating him. He’s a good man, but you don’t love him. Well, you do, but not as someone you want to be with romantically. This went too far and it’s your fault. Maybe you should just go with it, marry him and…
Your train of thought is cut short when you see a figure at a distance, leaning against the wall. You recognize him immediately, and your heart is what makes your legs move. Towards him, of course.
Holding your dress off the way with one hand, you use the other to balance yourself on the stone steps. You’re still a bit too far when he turns around, quickly finding you. You’re hidden from the party down here, with the french chateau brick wall on one side and the tall shrubs on the other. And you couldn’t be more thankful for the privacy.
“John.” You mutter when you’re close enough. He’s dressed to impress, as always, in a dark vest, hair pushed back. Many things go through your head, but nothing feels like the right thing to say. “Are you here for a target?” It’s what comes out.
“No. I’m out. Permanently this time.” He answers in a low voice, giving you a quick look. “You’re absolutely stunning.”
Blushing, you give your dark blue dress a look. “Thanks…”
“I’m here because your father invited me.” He adds, and you look up at him again. John and your father are old friends, so it makes sense. “To your proposal party.”
“So you know.”
“Yes, I do.” He mutters. “And you should be in there. With your boyfriend and not out here with your ex.”
“I don't–” Some voices reach you, and you look over your shoulder.
“Someone is coming.”
“Yeah.” Looking around, you find to see the stone bridge a couple of feet away, towering over you. Taking John’s hand, you start pulling him. “Come.” Moving as fast as you can in your high heels, you rush under the bridge, it’s not too wide, but it’s enough to hide. You go further in until complete darkness surrounds both of you. You’re still catching your breath when your phone starts vibrating, and you take it from the hidden pocket of your dress, quickly checking who’s calling because blocking the screen so the light won’t give out your position.
“It’s Angela.” You whisper, and then you see when she walks past you under the bridge, alongside Janice, another friend of yours.
“They’re looking for you.”
“Sometimes I forget you have a very good hearing.” You mutter, wondering if he can hear your heart because it has never beaten so fast. Not since the last time you saw him. “I was going to break up with Duncan.” The words come out, you’re not sure why. Maybe you just need him to know. “I’ve been meaning to for a couple of weeks.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s not fair to be with someone when your heart belongs to another man.” There it is. You swore you’d never open up to John again. That you wouldn’t confess your feeling to someone who may not love you anymore. But he affects you in ways you don’t understand.
John moves in the dark, and you step back, trapped against the cold wall and his body. “I came here for a specific reason.”
This gets your attention, and you raise your head, looking at him in the dark. Your eyes are getting used to it, but still, you can only see a silhouette. “W-what reason?”
“I had to let you go because I had a very dangerous job. A Marker I had to fulfill. But now… Now I’m free. And when I your father told me about this party…” He sighs, and you have to control yourself not to touch him. “I had to try. To know if there’s anything left of what we had because when we talk, even though the phone I feel–”
“I still remember the taste of your tongue.” You burst out, taking a deep breath and closing your eyes, bringing back to your memory all the kisses you shared. “It’s burned in my brain, John.”
“(Y/N)…” He mutters, and you feel a warm, big hand around your waist, pulling you close until you collapse against his chest. “I don’t want to ruin a perfectly good relationship. So if you’re happy with Duncan, I’ll leave. I’ll disappear.”
“No, please, John… I told you, I was planning on ending things. I never thought Duncan would do this.”
“I just need to be sure, (Y/N).” He pulls away, a finger under your chin to make you look up at him. “I love you, and I want you. But I won’t make a move until what you have with him is over.”
“Then take me away from this stupid party, John.” You beg, hands finding the collar of his suit and holding him, pulling him to you. Thanks to your high heels, you’re closer to his lips, and you can feel his breath. “Take me away. I’ll fix it, I’ll fix everything. I want you too.”
Without saying anything else, John takes your hand, brings it to his lips, and places a soft kiss on your knuckles. Then, he starts moving, and you’re more than happy to follow.
John takes you through the garden, out of the view from those inside the hotel. The darkness is your protection today because you know people are desperately trying to find you since your phone won’t stop vibrating. When you get to his car, you quickly get into the passenger seat, and soon enough you’re leaving the hotel.
You missed John’s car, as you missed everything about him. The ride to his place is long, almost four hours. But the distance works in your favor. You want to leave everything behind, and you surely don’t want to be followed. The whole drive, you exchange glances, and it feels like neither of you believes this is real.
It’s very late when you get to his place, and you accept his clothes before taking a warm shower. You remember the last time you crashed here, but it feels like a lifetime ago. You love how baggy his clothes are on you, and you love the smell.
But you don’t have time to enjoy it, you have calls to make. So seated on the living room’s couch, you speak with far too many people, apologizing over and over again.
An hour later you finally put the phone down, a hand on your forehead as you calm down after upsetting so many people. You see John coming from the kitchen with a mug. He sits next to you, handing you the hot cocoa.
“I was wondering where you were.”
“Wanted to give you some time.” He says as you take a sip. “Did you speak to him?”
“No. But mother said he’s mad. That he doesn’t want to see me again. Never.” Looking down at the light blue mug, you let it warm up your hands. “He’ll go back to London.”
“And how do you feel about it?”
Shrugging your shoulders, you sigh. “Sad for hurting him. But… Good that it’s over. Does it make a bad person?”
“Sometimes we have to think about ourselves first.”
“Yeah…” Taking another sip from the hot cocoa, you put the mug on the coffee table before snuggling close to John, your head on his chest. You were a bit anxious about it, but you relax when you feel his arms around you. “I missed you so much, John.”
“I missed you too. I couldn’t keep you off my mind.”
“Me neither, John… But…” Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes for a while, focusing on the sound of his heartbeats. “What do we do now? What are we doing? Dating, or…”
“I have a better idea.” He whispers, and you feel him moving a little. When you open your eyes, you see him taking a small, square box from his pocket.
You’re about to ask what it is when he opens it, and your jaw drops. It’s a ring. A beautiful, stunning ring. “W-what.m..” You mutter, sitting up straight and looking at John. “How do you have a ring with you?”
“You never read your old messages. But if you did…” With his free hand, John softly caresses your cheek. And God, how you missed his touch, always so delicate and gentle, leaving a trail of fire on your skin. “You’d see that when you’re sleepy, or when you texted me in the middle of the night, you often say you love me. That you miss me and wanted to get back together. So I took the risk and bought this. Hoping I’d had the chance to give it to you.”
You can’t help but smile, tears threatening to roll down. “John, I… I don’t even know what to say.”
“You can say yes. And then we’d never be apart again.”
Biting your lip, the tears finally roll down as you nod. “Yes, Jardani.” You mutter, smiling. “Yes.”
John smiles too, taking your hand and sliding the ring on your finger before pulling you to his lap. And then, finally, after so damn long, he kisses you.
You’re overwhelmed at first, as if all your senses are gone for a moment, and there’s nothing else in the world but his lips. And he tastes the same. It doesn’t take much until you react, arms around his neck, hands on his hair as you part your lips, letting him deepen the kiss. You can’t ever do that again. You can’t go through long periods without kissing John. It’s like a matter of life and death to kiss him, touch him, be around him. This is love in its most natural way. Genuine and unbreakable.
When you’re forced to pull apart to breathe, you can’t stop smiling. This isn’t how you thought your night would end, but it’s so much better than any plans you could’ve ever made. “I love you, Jardani Jovonovich. And thanks again for teaching me how to pronounce that.”
