John Comes Home
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John parked a short walk away from his house. Partially out of convenience, partially because he wanted to put as much distance between his house and sleeping Twain as possible, and finally, because he wasn’t sure how he was going to react once he saw it, and he wanted to be able to face it on his own.
He turned briefly towards Twain, sending him a final heartfelt look. I’ll come back for you. If I don’t forget to. Just kidding. Wait for me, all right?
Making sure not to make too much noise, he closed the door. With his hands in his pockets, he headed towards the house. His feet carried him on their own, he didn’t need to think at all about the directions. His body and soul were yearning for home.
Series
- Part 1 of John Comes Home
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“Huuuh?” Mark pouted. “Thanking me like I didn't gotta be there anyway.” He thought about it more. “Know what, yeah. You're lucky I was there. Don't wanna imagine what you'd do without me!” Having said that, he grinned. “They probably wouldn't believe you got a boyfriend if they couldn't see me with their own eyes, y'know.”
“Yeah. And then I wouldn't have to explain it. So really, it's your fault that I had to stress out about this in the first place.”
Series
- Part 2 of John Comes Home
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,572
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 25
- Hits:
- 274
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In a sense, it was as if he never left. His family didn't treat him any differently. Even though the bonfire was meant to celerate him, he wasn't exempt from helping with it. He and Mark wandered into the woods in search of dry wood to burn.
Right, that was the difference – Mark entered the picture. And he did so smoothly, as far as John could tell, at least, so far. A part of him dreaded the possibility that his parents would have a late night conversation about the two of them, and decide to kick them out in the morning, once the joy of seeing their firstborn son again wore off. Nothing of that sort happened, though. The small talk during breakfast was pleasant. The fact that they were both sent to bring wood also seemed like an endorsement – a subtle, polite way of giving them time alone, which they happily took advantage of, warming each other up with kisses that definitely made the task take twice as long as it needed to.
Well, they did find wood. That was what mattered in the end.
Series
- Part 3 of John Comes Home
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,875
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 16
- Hits:
- 169
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Mark didn't ask where they were going until they couldn't see John's house any more. When John answered him, Mark stopped dead in his tracks. He couldn't believe his ears when John told him, and had to ask him to repeat a few times. Once he was sure that he heard right, he shook his head in disbelief. “Church?” he echoed, bewildered and suspicious. John shrugged. He patiently waited for Mark to start moving again. There was still plenty of time, after all. But Mark was too studden to move, still lightly shaking his head. “Why church? What, you wanna convert me or something? Having one of your moments, huh?”
Series
- Part 4 of John Comes Home
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Armed with Mark's request for a bottle of apple cider and a sandwich, John headed into the hall, and, yawning into his hand, stepped into the staircase. There, in the middle of the stairs, was where he stopped dead in his tracks. He had no intention of eavesdropping on his mother's conversation. He was planning to go into the kitchen and out without bringing attention on himself, and without actively hearing a single word coming out of the living room. He had assumed the conversation wasn't any of his business at all. But evidently, he was wrong – given that he definitely just heard his name. Stuck on the platform in the middle of the staircase, hidden between the walls, he sat down, and he listened, trying desperately not to breathe.
“The reason I came to you,” a stranger's voice said, “is that I saw your eldest being inappropriate in public, and I thought you ought to know.”
“John?” Ma's voice responded immediately, tense and worried. That was what he heard, and perhaps it was the concern that stopped him, more so than just hearing his name.
Series
- Part 5 of John Comes Home
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“Uncle Marky,” Ruthie said, twirling her dress. Mark couldn't help but smile. He'd never been an uncle before. “I need your help! We got a thing to settle, and you're the only one we can ask.” She pointed at the little boy. “Winfield don't believe in fairies!”
Winfield took the soggy cookie out of his mouth. He scrunched up his nose and tugged on Ruthie's skirt. “Uncle Marky, tell her! I ain't the one here who's wrong. She's starting to believe all kinda weird things for no reason. I know fairies ain't real. I'd seen 'em if they were.” And he put the cookie back in his mouth, where it promptly disintegrated.
Series
- Part 6 of John Comes Home
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At least the kitchen was genuinely exciting. Back when the two of them were in Yokohama, John would whine about the quality of eggs, milk and meat basically every day. They were fine, he'd say, but couldn't compare to the really fresh stuff. Mark usually tuned him out when he whined, but now, with a glass of fresh milk in his hand, he had to agree. It was different. It was so different, that it was almost hard to believe that it was the same thing. He downed the entire glass, knowing full well that he wouldn't be satisfied with store-bought milk ever again. Oh, well. It wasn't like he had to really worry about that for a while.
He stared at a basket of eggs, and considered cracking half a dozen of them onto a pan and scrambling them in butter. Real eggs, real butter. Real milk. Real herbs and spices. It was all so goddamn real he was starting to feel fake. Definitely when it came to his skills at cooking eggs.
Series
- Part 7 of John Comes Home
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John clapped his hands. “Oh, right! Lovecraft's back. We have to come pick him up.”
“Huh.” Mark blinked. He hadn't thought about Lovecraft in a while. “Whaddaya mean, he's back? Did he text you or something? He doesn't seem like the type to use a phone,” he said, grimacing. That'd have to be a crazy waterproof phone, considering that the last time they saw him, he'd hopped into the depths of the ocean. He'd done it many times, in fact. Sometimes it felt like he was in the ocean more than he was on land with them.
Series
- Part 8 of John Comes Home
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The boy turned towards him immediately, with his hand on the car door, ready to push it open. "Hm? Yeah?"
Lovecraft too a deep breath. This was exhausting - but he had to try. "Are you sure. That it is a good idea. To introduce me… to your kin?" he finally reached the end of the question, and looked into John's eyes, slumping into his seat.
Series
- Part 9 of John Comes Home
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John laughed. “Ah, yeah, they're very energetic, aren't they?” he mused, fingering his belt buckle. “It's a little bit like having Twain and his little guys here. I hope he's gonna be safe,” he added, and a worried look passed through his face, only to disappear immediately. “But the kids really like you. I reckon they're wondering what kind of tricks you can show them. They did the same with Twain. They already learned everything they could from me, so having a new face around is exciting. Let me know if you need some peace and quiet, though.”
“I always do,” Lovecraft murmured. He looked down at his open palms. “I noticed. That they don't mind me,” he said and closed his fists. “I was expecting them to be scared. Of me. Most children are,” he added quietly, recalling the looks he received when he went out Christmas shopping, or when he and John and Mark went to the amusement park. He was aware of the terrified looks, of the way his presence made people's blood run cold. It was just a fact he had come to terms with. It was natural for humans to be uneasy around him. But this was different: he didn't want to cause any discomfort to John's family.
Series
- Part 10 of John Comes Home
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“Good morning, old sport. I see you're as good with animals as you are with plants.”
Charley's reaction was immediate, even before John recognised the voice and processed the words. The poodle, jumped back up to his feet and went around John to shield him from danger, watching cautiously. John straightened up and turned around, careful not to trip over the dog. He put a calming hand on its head as he looked up at the figure before him.
Francis hadn't changed much. John always hoped that he would, and he was always disappointed. If anything, the sunny California weather seemed to be doing him favours. His pale skin already seemed tanner than usual, and he puffed out his chest as he basked in the sun, with sunglasses uselessly propped up on his forehead. He wore white shorts and a bright unbuttoned shirt, along with white shoes – a terrible idea to wear to a farm. And he looked directly at John with a confident smile that was so easy to hate, and yet so impossible to be mad at. He took the sunglasses off his head and tucked them away in his pocket. “Why, old sport, I don't know how to read your expression. Aren't you happy to see me?”
Series
- Part 11 of John Comes Home
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Not long after, he found himself wandering about the house. He wasn't sure what he expected a rich man's unfinished summer house to look like, but the effect was quite miserable. Unlike his own, the house didn't feel lived in. There were barely any dishes in the kitchen, and the wardrobe was only half-filled. The bed was cold, and he got the distinct feeling that nobody had slept in it in a long time, or maybe ever. The aura of this place was utterly miserable, and he didn't understand why. Leaning on the wall, he watched Fitzgerald try to navigate his kitchen in order to make coffee. “Say, this house looks empty,” he prompted. “I expected it to be... you know,” he hesitated, “more like the usual.”
“Oh, is that so?” Fitzgerald glanced at him keenly. “I'll have you know that, after the fall of the Guild, Miss Alcott and I had to stay in a one-room apartment for a time. It was dreadful, but did I complain? No. I enjoy excess, but if need be, I can live without it for a time.”
Series
- Part 12 of John Comes Home
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John sat up on the bed and scratched his chest. “Yeah,” he said flatly. “I mean, kind of. I was thinking that you could go to the farmers market with me. I want to at least look around. I was gonna go by myself but since you're back, you might as well go with me.” He delivered the information casually, without emphasis, as if he didn't care either way. He knew that Mark wouldn't want to leave him now.
Series
- Part 13 of John Comes Home
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Fitzgerald smirked. “I'm surprised too. I wasn't planning on waking up this early. However,” he added, spreading his arms helplessly, “a group of children went past my window, and they weren't trying to be quiet, so the choice wasn't mine to make, I'm afraid.”
“Oh, yeah. People wake up early around here. I'm sure you noticed,” John said, taking just a bit of sadistic pleasure in the way his ex-boss was forced to get accustomed to life in the countryside. “You reckon it may have been my family that woke you up? They just left a moment ago.”
Series
- Part 14 of John Comes Home