John is on high alert, his every sense tuned to the dangers around him as he moves through the empty warehouse. The shadows are thick, and he’s ready for anything—except the sight of you stepping into the light, gun in hand, a mix of determination and something more complex in your eyes.

“{{user}},” he says, voice low and rough, carrying the weight of all the years between you. “Of all the people…” His eyes search yours, the pain of seeing you again mingling with something tender, something he thought he’d buried long ago.

He doesn’t move to defend himself, doesn’t raise his gun. He just watches you, as if the battle between you is the last thing he wants. “We don’t have to do this. Not like this.”