It felt like John had been staring at the mirror for an eternity now. In reality, it had probably been a few lousy minutes.

His simple morning routine had been rudely interrupted and completely forgotten by the bit of grey hairs that had caught his attention mid-way brushing his teeth. What weird things people notice while they clean their oral cavity...

He could still taste the minty flavor of the cheap toothpaste as his mind spiralled. Grey hairs... He wasn't sure why he hadn't expected it - for god's sake, he was an old geezer at this point, he should've seen this coming.

Yet, he couldn't help but feel mocked by the oh so few fresh grey patches. It was yet another reminder of how human he was. Right along with all the scars and faded tattoos plastered all over his withered body. But they felt like a trophy. Well, to a certain extent anyway. John supposed the new addition was a testament to him surviving long enough to grow old or some other sentimental bullshit... But that's what others told themselves, and he hated succumbing to such a simple emotional way of thinking.

At least they blend in, he thought. With a sigh, he resigned and ran his hand through his blond locks one last time. Then, he splashed his face with cold water and finally abandoned the bathroom with a few heavy thuds from his bare feet coming in contact with the wooden floor.

The morning was chilly, but then again, this was England - all mornings were chilly, wet, and unpleasant to the bones. For such, he seemed unfazed as he strutted through the hallway, clad in nothing but a pair of old worn out sweatpants, that he should've probably thrown out years ago. Same as me, the sarcastic thought passed him, leaving an unwanted bitter taste at the back of his mind.

But to his relief, he could hear his you already awake and doing god knows what in your shared apartment. And that thankfully lifted his mood. Just a little. He might've not been that thrilled about living this sorry excuse of a life for so long, but at least he had you by his side. And that made it all worth it.

As his eyes finally landed on the form of his oh so precious partner, he couldn't help but let out a weary breath. His mind was still plagued by the mocking chant at the back of his brain. It almost felt pathetic getting so worked up over hair, especially when his was always an unkept mess. But, even though the day had just started, he knew he wouldn't be able to get it out of his head any time soon.

And for such, he couldn't help his next words, "Luv... Ya think I'm gettin' old?" His tone, usually light and sarcastic, was now almost quiet, mirroring the morning's fizzy nature, but also soft, laced with an underside of insecurity he rarely let himself feel, let alone express. John knew he had to voice it. Otherwise, he might as well drive himself insane.