⟢ ꒰ ⋮ 「 Your lips, my lips 」 ⸝⸝
“Johnny Cade: a boy who’s been through more than anyone ever should at sixteen. After too much heartache, he’s finally coming home — exhausted, hungry, and desperately yearning for your love and affection to be completely for himself.”
▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||| Now playing Apocalypse, Cigarettes After Sex ~
warnings ~ mentions of drinking, book events, canon-typical violence, mental health, but mostly tooth-rotting fluff <3
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ⊹ a/n ~ ughhh johnny cade my love, this took fucking forever to write cuz of writers block💔 also to that one anon who’s ask is sitting in my inbox, i promise ill get to it soon🙏
It’s been five months since he killed Bob. Five months since Windrixville. Five months since the fire. Five months since court. It’s been five, grueling months since you’ve seen your favorite boy smile.
Your heart beats wildly in your chest as you drive to the hospital. Nerves eat at your stomach and mind, constantly nipping at your own nails. Johnny’s aunt, Emilia, sits beside you in the driver’s seat, giving you worried glances every few moments. You can’t blame her; you probably look like a mess.
Sure, you’ve visited Johnny plenty of times, but it just wasn’t the same as seeing him normally.
Now, you’re driving to pick him up from the hospital. To take him home.
The idea makes your head start spinning.
After months of pain, physical therapy and pain medication, he’s coming home. They said he’d never be able to walk again – that his legs were essentially useless – and he proved them wrong.
Your shoes tap against the tile floor in rushed clicks as you hurry into the hospital. You walk up to the front desk, movements quick and uncharacteristically clumsy. “We’re here for Johnny. J-Johnny Cade, ma’am.” You stutter.
The receptionist looks up at you and Emilia, her smile warm and sympathetic. She knows exactly who Johnny is – everyone here does. He’s the boy who saved lives, the boy who survived even when it seemed impossible.
“You know where he is, go right ahead, sweetheart.” She says, her voice smooth and soft as always.
You give her a smile, before dashing off to Johnny’s room, Emilia trailing close behind.
The world seems to slow down when you enter his room.
There he is, your boy, sitting at the edge of the hospital bed, looking utterly out of it. His eyes are big and glassy, holding a pleading look as he stares up at the nurse before him.
Your feet carry you over to him, steps tentative as his nurse – Rose, her name is – turns to face you. “Is he alright?”
“Yes, he’s just fine, sweetie. It’s just the drugs.”
The drugs? You knew he had something keeping the pain away, but before now, it never made him act like this…
Upon seeing the worry in your eyes, the nurse smiles.
“Don’t worry, sweetie. They aren’t hurtin’ his body or anything. Just make him a little loopy, that’s all.”
You soften at that, giving her a curt nod, before you turn to Johnny. God, he looks so small. Like a child. Now, standing directly before him, he looks like he did when he was a little kid. Before his mother started drinking. Before it all went to shit with his parents. Before everything went to shit.
Behind you, Emilia is talking with Rose; probably about both his physical and mental wellbeing and what to do for him at home.
“Hey, Johnny. How–... How are you?” Your voice trembles with every word, your anxiety obvious. But his reaction is what truly shocks you.
He does nothing. Just sits there, staring, like some spaced out puppy – eyes glazed over and wide.
“Is– is he alright?” You ask with an increasingly breaking voice.
Rose looks back over to you, flashing a sympathetic smile at your clear anxiety about his current state of wellbeing.
“He is completely okay, I can assure you. The pain medication he’s on just makes him act a little silly.” Your heart calms at her words. So he’s fine, just… not really. “He may be overly emotional or tired or out of it at times, but I can guarantee he is a hundred percent okay.”
Emilia flashes you a worried look – again.
“Oh, uhm, alright. Thanks.” You turn back to Johnny, who is now staring up at you with those gorgeous brown eyes of his.
He stares up at you – wide eyed and unwavering – without saying a word. Not a single tangible emotion sits behind his gaze and it scares you.
“Emilia,” Rose’s voice drags you away from Johnny’s gaze. “he’s all set and ready to go. Here is his medication,” She hands his Aunt a small pill bottle, his name scribbled on the side. “make sure he takes it three times a day – one pill after every single meal, got it?” You and Emilia both smile at her, thankful for her help in such a stressful time.
She has been nothing short of an angel – making sure Johnny was always comfortable when he was bedridden, getting him proper meals and snacks, giving him rewards when his physical therapy was extra painful. He couldn’t have made it this far without her.
“Thank you so, so much, Rose.” Your voice carries all the sincerity you can’t express through words. Without hesitating, you collapse into the older woman’s arms, embracing her whole-heartedly. She’s provided Johnny with so much comfort, she’s basically a mother figure for him.
Emilia watches from the sidelines, getting choked up herself. She hadn’t had any clue what Johnny’s life was like until she moved to Tulsa. His mother had cut off contact years back, after their parents had expressed their disapproval of Johnny’s father. And now here she is, having adopted the poor boy.
“Take care of him for me, alright, sweetie?” She says as you pull away, smiling through her tears.
And with one final hug from his Aunt, you and Johnny are leaving the hospital, a whole new era ahead of you.
Johnny doesn’t say a word, only staring blankly out the window. It worries you.
You’d expected him to be happy, excited, or to just show some form of emotion. Sure, he isn't normally talkative, but today is special. He gets to go back home – to a house that isn’t constantly full of yelling, to a house where he isn’t beaten every other night.
You sit in the backseat of Emilia’s dodge, gaze locked on Johnny. He looks so different. Even now, after you’ve gotten used to all of it – the scars, the ungreased hair, the spark in his eye – it’s a bit of a shock. He’s gained weight, gotten happier, grown out his hair; seeing him like this is nice… sort of.
Because as he sits there, staring blankly out the window, you can’t help the pit that forms in your stomach. He just seems so empty; like he’s been drained of all the life left in his body.
When you arrive at Emilia’s house, your nerves have only gotten worse.
You help Johnny out of the car, your arm wrapped around his torso to help him stay upright. Even after all of his therapy, he’s got a bit of a limp. You lead him inside, murmuring soft words to him with every step.
“Just like that, perfect.”
“I love you, Johnnycakes.”
All of it seems to go in through one ear and out the other.
You bring him over to the couch, letting him sit down and curl up. It’s a sweet sight; him being comfortable in a homey space, not cowering in fear. Emilia stands in the kitchen, preparing him a ‘welcome home’ meal of his favorite dish: angel hair pasta with alfredo sauce and garlic bread.
She had asked you about his favorite food a couple weeks ago, and you’d told her a story you’d remembered Johnny telling you. One time, he had told you his only fond memory related to food was eating that exact pasta at his grandmother’s house – before his mom started drinking. Before the beatings started.
Just the thought makes your chest tighten.
You sit down beside him while Emilia cooks, allowing Johnny to lean on you. He doesn’t say a word, only sits there. It’s odd. You thought he’d be all over you; clingy and touchy, not distant and detached.
Eventually, his aunt calls you and him into the kitchen, having made enough pasta for the whole three of you. You end up eating in virtual silence. Johnny has gone completely nonverbal and you hate it. Sure, he’s quiet, but it’s more of a present quiet – like you know he’s there even when it sounds like he isn’t.
Once you’ve eaten lunch, Emilia has him take his medication, before she brings him to his bedroom so he can rest while you do the dishes. However, she’s back before you can even get the sink to warm up, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder to get your attention.
“Sweetheart… you should go with him. I’ll take care of the dishes.” She says, her voice soft and gentle. You can’t help but wonder why she’d suggest you do so, feeling as though he might be crying or something of the sort when you enter his room.
But when you do, it’s the total opposite.
Instead, you’re immediately met with an odd, but not unwelcome sight.
There he is, in a nice and warm bed, the sheets fresh and clean, hugging one of his few personal belongings: a stuffed bear with a missing eye he’d named “Marshal.” Sunlight filters through the curtains, making his face glow and reminding you of the mornings you’ve spent in bed together.
You walk over to his bed, gaze locked onto his form, until you’re standing right before him. You sit down on the edge of the bed. Your hand comes up to play with his hair, twisting a curl around your finger with a tenderness he’s only felt from you. His dark lashes twitch against his cheeks as his eyes slowly flutter open.
“Hi, baby.” you murmur, hands gentle as you scratch against his scalp. Johnny’s big brown eyes stare up at you, full of exhaustion and endearment. “You need anything? Water? A snack?”
He shakes his head. You lean down and kiss his forehead, fingers gently brushing back his curls. He immediately leans into the touch.
“D’you want me to stay?” You ask, still messing with his hair.
Suddenly, his eyes are welling with tears, lower lip trembling madly. You panic almost immediately. Your hand draws back, now fearing you’ve made him uncomfortable or overwhelmed. But before you can apologize, he pipes up between sobs.
“Y-You— you’re too good to m-me! You’re so n-nice an’ sweet an’ pretty — an’ — god, you treat me s-so nice, even though my h-hair’s all short an’ ain’t tuff anymore, an’—“
“Johnny!” You cut him off. “Johnny, my sweet, sweet boy, calm down!” Your hands come up to cup his cheeks, thumbs wiping away the tears rolling down across his tan skin.
“Shh, no, baby, calm down. Deep breaths, c’mon.” You yourself take deep breaths — in, out, in, out — watching intently as he copies your movements. His beautiful eyes bore into yours, big and brown and full of tears that shouldn’t even be there.
For several minutes, that’s all you do. Breathe in, breathe out. In. Out. Over and over, until his eyes quit watering and he’s not hyperventilating. A small smile graces your lips at the sight.
“That’s it… just like that, breathe, baby.” Your gentle voice soothes every bit of mental and physical pain currently in his body. He stares up at you for several seconds, just watching. Studying Admiring. And you have to admit it, it feels nice to be wanted so much. Especially when he leans his cheeks into your hands and lays a kiss on your palm.
“I love you… you’re too good to me,” Johnny mumbles, strong arms wrapping around your waist. He drags you down onto the bed without much protest. You end up with him curled against your chest, breathing deep and slow, your pinky finger dragging gently up and down against the bridge of his nose as you hum a gentle tune.
“I hope you know how much I love you, John…” You whisper, lips pressing a delicate kiss to his forehead.
And with that, he’s fast asleep – and if he’s being completely honest with himself, he’s never felt any safer.
[ 🏷️ : @r0seb100d @whitemanswh0r3 @marilyn-girly @dallysdolly444 — dm to be added ]
