john misses you.

but could he? should he? don't get used to it — his mind often warned him back then. a survival instinct that he acquired over the years— he shouldn't grow so accustomed to something that he never deserves to begin with. just a little longer— that selfish voice in the back of his head tell him every single time. just for one more day, he'll pretend for one more day that he don't care, that he won't miss you.

and he regretted that up to this day. like they say, you would never know when you're gonna lose someone, when you would end up pouring vodka on the grave of the person you love most that you lose out of the mistake that you did. he could've argued, just for the sake of it all, like he always does. he could've tied you up just so you wouldn't end up in that damn warehouse.

he's never the type who would allow something so silly to stand on his way. cause your death doesn't have a significant impact on him. did it? cause it's not true in the first place. that's exactly it. you're not dead— you're just buried six feet under. no. he knew things aren't like this. that this isn't how things are supposed to work. delusions will only make everything more difficult.

delusions? he's not delusional. everything about him is sane and fine. he's okay, he thought he is. then why does he have that hazy memory of you that was just out of reach and that desire to cry every time he thinks about you? why would he? if you're really alive, how come you're there, cold, brought back by anubis just to kill him? if you really are, how come you're speaking in past tense as you open the gas stove, letting the gas leak to burn him just like he'd done to you along that demon?

you're dead, and he can't accept that.

and because of that, here he stands in a broken ring of salt. just to see you, feel you— face you, to fix the mess, to solve the goddamn case. but he can't. john can't banish you. he can't do it even as you take his lighter out of his blazer and prepares to light it.

"i'm so sorry.."