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John has had a long day to put it very simply. The Resistance is gaining more of a foothold in Holland Valley, which has ruined nearly all of John’s most recent deliveries. The ones that hold all of the supplies for the bunkers. Gone. There’s a headache pounding behind his eyes now, and there’s nothing more he wants in this entire world than to just sink into the floorboards and disappear.
Joseph won’t stop calling though, and Jacob keeps hounding him about holding his own. They’re both so very tired of having to clean up after their baby brother and the messes that he makes. There’s so many of them, after all. This isn’t just about John now- There’s a whole flock of people depending on him, and he just keeps fucking up.
Maybe John bites his lip a touch too hard so he can ground himself. Maybe he turns the cold water completely off in the shower and lets his skin get scorched with the almost boiling water. Maybe, he thinks, he’ll skip dinner tonight. It wouldn’t sit on his stomach right, too likely to make him vomit with all of the stress that’s bubbling just under the surface.
His solution? A very, very large hoodie from his college days, and the most comfortable and ratty pair of sweatpants that he can get his hands on. It’s not much, but John is still a creature of comfort- So he lets himself indulge.
Pulling the hoodie over his head, John makes a B line from his room to the kitchen for a bottle of water, and then to the living room where there’s a small fire going. The faithful have likely been the ones keeping it lit for him all day. John sighs and practically throws himself down on the sofa, ignoring the persistent ringing of his cellphone- It’s either Joseph or Jacob, and John can’t bring himself to mentally deal with either of them right now.
So he doesn’t.
The phone stops ringing after about ten minutes, and then it’s just John and the blissful silence that’s only disrupted by the popping and crackling coming from the fireplace. John’s thoughts are also intruders to his peaceful moment, never straying too awfully far, because God forbid he get a true moment of peace. The only way to get them to leave for an extended period of time is dissecting them, which always leads John right off the deep end of his brain and into another manic-depressive episode.
John is so far lost in his thoughts when he hears it. The sound of boots thudding on the hardwood floor upstairs. There’s a gun in the coffee table drawer just in front of him, but god- It is just such a far reach, and John is so very comfortable right now with his knees tucked up against his chest, hoodie obscuring most of his view, and blanket wrapped tight around his shoulders. He can’t possibly be expected to actually move. He’s not felt this comfortable in so long, and he’s not about to ruin it.
John opts to just stay there like he has been for God knows how long at this point. There’s something in his head that tells him that he’s in real danger here, should move, leave- Get out while you’ve still got the chance. The alarms going off in his brain are so loud that they make John outwardly grit his teeth.
By the time John catches sight of the intruder, he’s got trails of tears that aren’t dry yet on his cheeks, mingling with the finely cared for hairs of his beard. John’s shoulders sag impossibly further when he realizes who it is.
Mr. Wrath himself.
Rook.
The universe is being mean to him today, John decides, because there’s no other way to explain this happening tonight of all nights. Hasn’t he suffered enough? No. No apparently he hasn’t, because otherwise God would have seen it fit to let him wallow in self pity without interruptions.
Rook knows he’s been spotted, looks like he’s confused that John isn’t moving a muscle to leave, and that almost makes John laugh. If he had the energy for it, he would’ve. There’s a deep exhaustion blanketing his entire body right now though, and John couldn’t even come up with a witty comeback at this rate.
This is how he’s supposed to die, huh? Crying on his couch while his enemy takes everything John has ever worked for, tears his family apart at the seams like a cat playing with its food before it strikes- Before Rook kills John. The thought really should bother him a little more than it does, but all John is thinking about now is the fact that if Rook kills him, John doesn’t have to keep doing this.
Joseph wouldn’t berate him anymore. Jacob wouldn’t treat him like an incompetent child. Nobody would be setting unrealistic expectations for a man who has already given so much, everything he has, and they all still expect him to give so much more. There’s no more of John left to give. It’s all gone, sucked right out of him by his followers and brothers alike.
For the briefest of moments, John allows himself to be selfish. Up close with the glow of the fire dancing over his skin, John truly realizes that Rook really is a handsome man. A beautiful trainwreck that has fucked up everything- And yet John still finds himself wishing for something, anything. In a previous life, Rook would have been exactly the sort of man John would have pursued.
Rook is toned, thick in all the right places, well kept hair and beard- John’s heart aches because he could have had that. Rook could have been his. Life isn’t fair to John though. It never has been, and John is convinced it never will be. Everything he’s ever touched has been ruined, and this is no exception to that.
When Rook steps closer and John is really able to see him, he notices that there’s a gun. Rook has both hands on it and he’s lifting it now to aim, and God John takes a deep breath in. Any moment now could be his last, and John is so ready to not be tired anymore. There’s an ache that permeates his chest as he watches Rook’s hesitant movements before the gun is being lowered again, and John wants to scream.
There’s something happening and it’s leaving John reeling. Rook is looking at him like this is hurting him just as much as it’s hurting John, and John almost scoffs. What about this could possibly be hard for Rook? Isn’t this what he’d been fighting for this entire time- To kill the Holland Valley Herald and free his people, deconstruct all of John’s hard work at the expense of his very life.
Fresh tears coat John’s cheeks when Rook takes a staggering step backwards, and it’s more clear now than it’s ever been. This is the first time since he was a child that John has allowed himself to be weak. Before now, Rook had more than likely believed what everyone else had- The fake public facade that John manages to slap on day after day, the happy go-lucky YES man with a positive attitude for saving sinners.
This is the first time John has allowed himself to be human since he’s come to Montana, and of course Rook wouldn’t be stupid enough to overlook that.
John says nothing. There’s no pleading from John for Rook to not end his life. There’s no angry shouting about how John plans to carve the sin clean out of Rook’s chest, no matter what it takes. There’s no witty remarks, smart banter, or even any hateful looks.
There’s pain behind both of their eyes, and John feels a lump swell in his throat. There’s this part of him that just wants Rook to step forward again. To ask John if he’s going to be okay, because John really isn’t sure he is- To reach out and touch him with a kindness that John misses every single day. John wants Rook to hold him, to tell him it’ll be okay.
When Rook steps back again, a sob tears it’s way out of John’s throat.
There’s still no begging, but John does hold his knees just a touch tighter to his chest. If he curled in far enough, maybe he’d disappear. Maybe Rook wouldn’t look at him like that, and they could go back to pretending things are just what they are- Rook trying to kill him, and John following on his brother’s righteous heels.
Faintly John can hear the sound of his door shutting, and that signals the departure of the deputy. John has never in his life felt so, so very alone as he does right now. The phone on the coffee table doesn’t ring anymore that night. John doesn’t bother to drag himself upstairs to lay in his king size bed with silk sheets. Eventually the fire dies down and John is completely alone with his thoughts.
All he can think about is the way Rook looked at him, and John’s heart hurts.
Tomorrow he’ll bounce back, be the charismatic asshole that Hope County has learned to hate- But for tonight, John lets himself be weak, because he’s given so much to everyone else, and he’s not sure there’s any pieces of him left in this mangled mess.
John Seed is human after all. Rook would know. He saw.