[Action- Backdated to Loto's departure then fast forward to The Future]
Don't blubber.
Don't cry. Don'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcrydon't-
John bawled.
So hard and so thoroughly, the streaks of black mascara running in jagged, angry stripes down his cheeks had terrified at least eight toddlers that morning and caused two women to scream in a frenzied panic. Airport security- well acclimated with Mister Key's hysterics- simply followed close behind the odd pair, the quiet whir of their segways ominous indeed.
Tranquilizers were heavily considered when it came time for Loto Wallace's plane to board and while no one wanted to see a grown man cry, his tears and loud sniffling were akin to watching a nuclear bomb drop in slow motion-
Calamity was only a few seconds from impact but morbid fascination made it impossible to look away.
Having been clutched onto desperately- "You'd better email me every g-goddamn day y'little git."- with his jacket thoroughly dampened down to the inner layers of his shirt, the younger Kiwi was released back into the wild and took flight fifteen minutes later for the frozen tundras of the far South.
He-who-had-been-left-behind (again) received a few, hesitant pats on the back as his sobs lessened, though the condolences seemed no more than vapor with how much he felt them.
John didn't feel much of anything after that day. An appropriate gift of Doctor Who memorabilia (including but not limited to a few props from the sets of 'Blink' and 'The Library') were sent Dewi's way as birthday gifts. When he chanced upon Emi and Jared (they did occupy the same flat after all) he smiled and chattered relentlessly as per usual but his heart...
His heart was broken.
No television because the news was- he couldn't handle that either. He sent money back home to his rellies yet no more could be done. No internet because his work seemed too overwhelmingly complex. By March the first, he was hibernating under the time honored excuse of 'I'm sick'.
Nothing.
By March the sixth, he had yet to emerge for more than a cold shower.
John lay stagnating in his room and Bonnie Tyler played on. And on. And on...
Don't cry. Don'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcrydon't-
John bawled.
So hard and so thoroughly, the streaks of black mascara running in jagged, angry stripes down his cheeks had terrified at least eight toddlers that morning and caused two women to scream in a frenzied panic. Airport security- well acclimated with Mister Key's hysterics- simply followed close behind the odd pair, the quiet whir of their segways ominous indeed.
Tranquilizers were heavily considered when it came time for Loto Wallace's plane to board and while no one wanted to see a grown man cry, his tears and loud sniffling were akin to watching a nuclear bomb drop in slow motion-
Calamity was only a few seconds from impact but morbid fascination made it impossible to look away.
Having been clutched onto desperately- "You'd better email me every g-goddamn day y'little git."- with his jacket thoroughly dampened down to the inner layers of his shirt, the younger Kiwi was released back into the wild and took flight fifteen minutes later for the frozen tundras of the far South.
He-who-had-been-left-behind (again) received a few, hesitant pats on the back as his sobs lessened, though the condolences seemed no more than vapor with how much he felt them.
John didn't feel much of anything after that day. An appropriate gift of Doctor Who memorabilia (including but not limited to a few props from the sets of 'Blink' and 'The Library') were sent Dewi's way as birthday gifts. When he chanced upon Emi and Jared (they did occupy the same flat after all) he smiled and chattered relentlessly as per usual but his heart...
His heart was broken.
No television because the news was- he couldn't handle that either. He sent money back home to his rellies yet no more could be done. No internet because his work seemed too overwhelmingly complex. By March the first, he was hibernating under the time honored excuse of 'I'm sick'.
Nothing.
By March the sixth, he had yet to emerge for more than a cold shower.
John lay stagnating in his room and Bonnie Tyler played on. And on. And on...