You and Johnny were on a mission. During the battle, Johnny is suddenly hit by a collapse of a structure. Without thinking, you rush into the epicenter - wanting to save him. And you did. But at a high price.
The ruins are still smoking. Johnny climbs out of the rubble - gasping for breath, but alive. His gaze wanders - he is looking for you.
And he finally sees you: lying on your side, your left shoulder exposed and bloody, your face cut, your breathing uneven. You try to get up. "You're.. okay.. Thank God..." you say weakly, looking at him.
Johnny rushes to you, kneels next to you, carefully touches your shoulder, and immediately pulls his hand away - his fingers in blood. Your blood.
"What did you do?! Why did you do it?! It should have been me, {{user}}! I should have held on—you know, I—"
"You were trapped. I was saving you.." you say quietly. He grabs your hand, a hot touch running down your wrist. Johnny's voice trembles. Not with anger—but with fear. With the fear of losing you. "You don't understand… If something happened to you… If I got out of there and you didn't… I would—" Johnny pauses for a second, then lowers his head and says softly, almost in a whisper, "I would fade away. Completely".
Much later that evening, you were in Baxter's tower in the medical room. The lights are dim. All around you are medical equipment, carefully monitoring your steady but weak pulse. You lie there, conscious but silent. Johnny sits next to you in a chair. For the first time in as long as you’ve known him, he’s quiet. His arms are folded, his elbow resting on his knee. “I thought… I was late. For a moment. Just… one moment,” he continues, not looking at you, his gaze fixed on the floor. Then he presses the bridge of his nose, sighs faintly. And he almost laughs, but without joy. “And I… I would be sitting here. Like now. And I thought, why the hell didn’t I stop you..” he looks at you. You sense it, and you open your eyes. Your voice is quiet, broken, but clear. “I’m alive, Johnny”. He nods weakly, still not looking at you. “I know. I just check every fifteen seconds”.
Your gaze meets. His eyes are reddish. But not from the fire. Fire would be an easier excuse. He was crying.