Perfect: Chapter 5

John's favorite thing to do is to hold you. He'll hold you when you're sad, when you're happy. He still kisses you, on your lips and cheeks. He never pushes boundries and when you turn 19, he asks you if you'll move in with him. You agree immediately and sell your old house. You pack for the second time in in 3 years and you think this time it's for the better. John's dad moved. So did yours. They knew you were responsible, you could take care of yourselves, but boy were they ever wrong. You moved in with John, frequently watched movies with him, gave him tender kisses when he left for work. You worked, too. Only a few hours a day at the cafe you and John were so fond of. You and John never struggled or had hardships anymore. You loved eachother, you knew that. It would never change. But one day John aproached you on a fragile topic. His hands were on your shoulders, foreheads resting against eachother. "Why don't we do more?" You know what he means. "We don't have to if you're not ready," He continues, lightly bumping his nose with yours. "I just...Wonder sometimes." "I wonder, too," You confess, eyes fluttering closed as you attempted to not just freak out and begin to bawl again. He kisses you that night, slow and loving. Like the first kisses you two shared. You link your arms around his neck and you stay up all night like that. You don't do anything more, because you wonder.
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John gets a call on his 22nd birthday. His father had been mugged on the streets, and killed. You've never seen John cry so hard. You buy a hope chest and store all of his father's things inside, holding his hand the whole time and showering him in butterfly kisses. You and John bake a cake in memory of his father, decorating it in white and blue. John writes in cursive font on the top of the cake, teardrops smearing the icing. "I'M SO PROUD OF YOU, DAD." You both attend the funeral but John vanishes in the crowd when you arrive. You suspect he's talking to his other family members. You don't see John when everyone pays their respects. You don't see John when you get home. You know he's probably at some bar, getting drunk and trying to get rid of the pain. You get a drunken text at four in the morning.
'pls pik me up.'
You get dressed and get in the car. You know where he is. He's been going there since he got the call. You drive up to the bar and you see John sitting on the curb with his head in his hands. You exit the car and hug him. You kiss his face all over, over and over again until he gets up and slides into the car. You don't talk the whole drive home.
John doesn't hold you that night.