Blurring into nothing
Just something...
It’s been a long time since John Watson has been missed, truly missed.
After medical school, it felt like dropping off the face of the earth, heading into the RAMC and becoming someone he never intended to be - a man who’d become lost in the hot desert sands of Afghanistan. It hurt less when you didn’t know the person who’d bled out on your table; the pain left quicker when you saw their faces disappear behind the dull zip of the standard issue body bags, the identification tags blurring into nothing. There was nothing to miss there, no one to be missed by.
It's all the hurting that does the trick - makes a man not worth missing.
John can claim only a handful of people worth missing; he’s not even sure he misses them for the right reasons, but it’s all he’s got. He misses his parents because their humble smiles are sometimes the only reason he bothers caring. Before he runs off to a bar or stares at his gun too long, he hears their warm voices, sees their faces tell him the way things are and that he can handle anything the world throws at him.
He misses Harry - in a lonely, fraternal twin kind of way. His fingers remember the silkiness of her hair when she’d let him brush it. He misses her confident comfort she offered to him during storms (she was always the braver one when they were younger). Above all, he misses being sheltered unconditionally, love passing through their skin where they touched. He misses her like an old scar that’s vanished and cannot be replicated; the wound would never be deep enough like she was.
It’s been a long time since John Watson has been missed, truly missed.
After medical school, it felt like dropping off the face of the earth, heading into the RAMC and becoming someone he never intended to be - a man who’d become lost in the hot desert sands of Afghanistan. It hurt less when you didn’t know the person who’d bled out on your table; the pain left quicker when you saw their faces disappear behind the dull zip of the standard issue body bags, the identification tags blurring into nothing. There was nothing to miss there, no one to be missed by.
It's all the hurting that does the trick - makes a man not worth missing.
John can claim only a handful of people worth missing; he’s not even sure he misses them for the right reasons, but it’s all he’s got. He misses his parents because their humble smiles are sometimes the only reason he bothers caring. Before he runs off to a bar or stares at his gun too long, he hears their warm voices, sees their faces tell him the way things are and that he can handle anything the world throws at him.
He misses Harry - in a lonely, fraternal twin kind of way. His fingers remember the silkiness of her hair when she’d let him brush it. He misses her confident comfort she offered to him during storms (she was always the braver one when they were younger). Above all, he misses being sheltered unconditionally, love passing through their skin where they touched. He misses her like an old scar that’s vanished and cannot be replicated; the wound would never be deep enough like she was.