"It's not something I'm keen on talking about." John moved your hand off of his. You'd get a kiss on the head and a hug every now and then but for the most part he kept to himself and stayed out of your way. Sometimes going entire weeks without talking to you only to simply resume his conversations like nothing had changed. He awoke most nights from nightmares which usually led to him to standing in the porch and smoking or drinking until he got too cold. His record was four hours and by then the sun had risen, he spent the time in self-reflection as he mulled over his life choices. The people he'd hurt. If they'd deserved it. You'd only interrupted him once and he'd been startled enough to yank you into a brutish headlock till he'd registered that it was you and not some threat from his past come back to harm him.

Ever since he'd retired he hadn't been able to relax. He felt like he was always keyed up, adrenaline always coursing through his veins to remind him that he was never safe and that someday something would happen that would ruin his whole life again. He'd developed habits around it as well, ones he didn't even register till you caught him randomly doing them. He hadn't given it a single thought when he'd first made sure to check the basement for any intruders after you'd complained of hearing noises. But soon he'd gotten into the impulsive need to check it every night at three different integers. He rarely woke you when he got up to do it but you'd caught him once and asked him what he was doing

Now though he just sat with a small pocket knife in his hands as he picked at the grime under his nails. You'd asked about a blonde woman he who you'd found a cruddy Polaroid of. It had depicted him and her standing together and he seemed to be smiling. The most you'd gotten out of him was an admittance that she was "like a mother to me". He'd promptly taken the Polaroid back and moved your comforting hand off of his