#flasbacks

That day, she had really just been scouting for a place that would afford her some good shots. She had recently been hired by a popular fashion house to do their fall shoot and after seeing their sample pieces, Y/n had decided that a natural backdrop would perfectly compliment the line.

By noon, she had been already been at the park for a couple hours, snapping pictures at spots she liked, drawing nearer and nearer to the thick foliage, that had at some point, gone from healthy, lush green to warm orange and red.

Closer to the forests, the crowd was thinner and the scene was beginning to look more conducive to Y/n's upcoming shoot. She could already see it; the models would pose among the trees, the brightly colored leaves perfectly blending with the popping colors of the outfits.

Y/n was just a couple feet into to the thicker part of the forest when she saw him; a dog, no owner in sight. The grey pit-bull sniffed around, shifting leaves around with his nose, apparently searching for something. Curious and a little smitten by the canine a few feet away, Y/n lowered her camera, trying not to make any sudden movements or startling noises as she approached him.

He looked so cute, Y/n thought, not a care in the world, seemingly amused by the the crunch of the fallen leaves. Raising her camera again, and against her better judgment, Y/n took a couple pictures; the light filtering through the canopy created by the tall trees captured his healthy coat wonderfully and he didn't even seem to mind that there was a complete stranger cooing over him.

When a man cleared his throat loudly behind Y/n, she jumped startled. Gasping, she turned around, only to find the definition of "tall, dark and handsome" dressed in a off white Henley standing a couple feet away with his arms folded across his chest. At the sight of him, the dog perked up, trotting over towards him. A little taken aback by his looks, Y/n internally stammered for something to say, "God," she sighed eventually, letting the camera hang freely from her neck, "I'm so sorry," she smiled sheepishly, "I swear I'm not some weirdo taking pictures of your dog; he just looked so cute playing in the leaves, I couldn't help it."

Taking in her words, the man eventually smiled, crouching down to rub the mutt's head affectionately, "It's okay, I'd be lying if I said he doesn't love the camera," the man's smile widened and Y/n could help but feel the slightest tingle in her chest, "Isn't that right boy?" He took the dog's head in his large hands, letting him lick all over his face.

"Well he certainly has every right to, he's very photogenic," she quipped with a bright grin.

Beautiful. That was probably the only word that John could readily think of to describe the woman standing before him. Her hair was effortlessly wind blown and she seemed dressed the part of a born and bred New Yorker in tight jeans, a sky blue button up with a long thick coat over it and ankle boots. John couldn't remember a woman ever having that kind of effect on him; rendering him at a loss for confidence and aching to talk to her, to say something funny, just so he could hear what her laugh sounded like.

Swallowing his nerves, John glanced at Dog and then back at the gorgeous photographer, "Yeah," he chortled softly, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "He is, isn't he. I'm John, by the way, sorry about startling you earlier."

Y/n chuckled quietly, blushing despite her brain's orders not to. John had a firm grip, though it felt like was purposely avoiding squeezing her hand too tightly and his palm and stocky fingers were calloused. "It's okay," Y/n breathed, "I'm Y/n." When John released her hand, they still lingered there, kept apart by a just about eight inches. Clearing her throat, Y/n inhaled, trying to fill the new silence, "So you're John, and he is....."

"Dog," John offered bluntly.

Y/n furrowed her brows, "Your dog's name is......Dog? That's actually kind of cute," Y/n giggled.

John chuckled too, "I guess it is." For a minute he wondered if he'd have to let her go. John didn't want too though, something about Y/n was already reeling him in; her musical laugh, her shy smile, something. Maybe that was love at first at first sight felt like. "Would you mind sending me those pictures?" John finally summed up the courage to ask.

Her cheeks and the tips of Y/n’s ears heated up, not sure if John just wanted to spend more time with her or if he actually wanted the pictures. “Sure,” she finally managed, “Just give me your email and I can do that tonight.”

“Great,” John bit his lip. He couldn’t believe himself, he was actually going to do it; he was going to ask Y/n out, even if he had only known her for just over fifteen minutes, “Maybe I could give it to you over coffee.”

Taken aback, Y/n blushed again, “Now?” 

Suddenly nervous, John rubbed the back of his neck, “Yeah,” he smiled tentatively, “If it’s good for you.”

Laughing giddily, “Yeah,” Y/n nodded, hoping she didn’t sound too eager, “It’s good for me. Lets get coffee.”

6 Weeks Later Y/n sat on the bed in the guest room of her best friend’s apartment. They had met in collage and had been roommates until graduation, so naturally, when she had left John, Lacy had been the one to suggest that Y/n crash at her place until she’d found something she liked. Y/n had been at Lacy’s little two bedroom apartment in the city for going on six weeks. The first three had been fine, though, tear filled, but as more time passed, Y/n had started to feel off. She couldn’t define it really, but she knew that something was different. Her clothes had started to fit differently, tighter in some areas, an occurrence that Y/n had passed off as a consequence of having ice cream for dinner but there were other things too. Frequent tension headaches, fatigue in the middle of the day and an odd repulsion to coffee, which she usually loved.

When Lacy had first suggested it, Y/n didn’t want to believe it; it couldn’t be, not now. But sitting there on the bed, with the truth staring back at her, Y/n realized that there was no escaping it; this was happening. The only thing she could do was make a decision going forward. “What are you gonna do?” Lacy broke the tense silence.

Y/n’s breath caught as tears welled up in her eyes. What was she going to do? Fumbling for words, she shook her head, tendrils escaping her loose ponytail and falling sadly over her paled face, “I don’t know......this is....” She trailed off, getting lost in her own though. 

Pregnant?

How’d that happen?

Well, she knew how that happened.

But she and John were always careful; Y/n was on the pill. Granted, she’d sometimes forgotten to take it, but that wasn’t often, once, twice tops. “Well, this is just an opinion, but I think you should tell him,” Lacy had always strove to be a voice of reason, even when reasonable wasn’t something that Y/n particularly wanted.

Scoffing, Y/n stood abruptly, tossing the flimsy plastic test to the made sheets, trying to ignore how the two little pink lines mocked her. It sort of felt like a betrayal of her body. She couldn’t be pregnant! A single mother in her late twenties, without even as much as an apartment? Of course, Y/n knew she could afford a decent one, money wasn’t the issue, it was time. Just six weeks after she’d left John, in the midst of her career; where did a kid fit into that? Of course, Lacy was right, telling John was the most viable course of action, no doubt he was the father, but what kind of father could he be? He was an assassin!

Briefly, just for a minute, Y/n’s mind took her back to a time where John would promise to leave the criminal life behind so they could have a normal life, but that was years ago, and he never did it. And now, they weren’t even together. Y/n wasn’t even sure if she wanted kids. “No,” Y/n finally dismissed Lacy’s idea, nervously toying with a loose thread at the hem of her t-shirt, “No,” she repeated, “John is.....”

“A good man,” Lacy stood too, trying to still Y/n’s fidgeting hands, “You said it yourself. And it’s not like you’d be getting back with him, but don’t you think he deserves to know? This is his baby too.”

By then, quiet tears were falling freely, warm on her cheeks, her lips trembling slightly, “I know, I do, it’s just.....” if Y/n went back, she couldn’t trust herself to leave again. 

Emotion overtook her and Y/n finally let a chocked sob escaped her lips. Sighing, Lacy pulled her into a hug, her hands rubbing soothingly over her back, it was nothing like John’s hugs, warm, protecting and consuming, but it was still filled with love from one friend to another. “It’s okay,” she whispered, low and close to Y/n’s ear, “Whatever you decide, I’m here for you, I’ll always be here for you.”

John’s sleep had grown fretful and unsatisfactory in the past six weeks and he’d only recently realized that it was because he had grown used to the security that Y/n offered. Of course, he’d often sleep alone when he was away for work, but it was always with the knowledge that she was at home, awaiting him, and when he’d return, she be there with ready arms and a safe haven, with an embrace that made him feel blissfully normal. Y/n made him feel loved. She made him feel at home, at ease. She made him feel safe. 

Maybe that was why John had squeezed her so tightly, not just to protect her from his life, but because deep, deep down, he know that she was protecting him. Protecting him from the insanity that he always feared loneliness would drive him too, protecting him from himself. John missed her, he needed her and he craved her. 

Scrubbing his hands over his face, John sat up in the bed, sparing a glace to the empty space next to him. For weeks, he’d tried patting the spot to coax Dog into sleeping next to him, but it was if even he knew that the spot closest to the awning window was reserved for only one person. It was hers, even if she no longer wanted it.

Swinging his legs out of bed, John didn’t bother with slippers as he padded out of the room towards the kitchen, Dog close on his heels. In the kitchen, John stood in front of the open fridge, trying to decide if he actually wanted something, or if he just needed a reason to be awake. Despite the late hour, he reached for a beer, though eventually decided against it, opting to go for something stronger; a glass of his preferred bourbon. 

With the bottle in one hand and two fingers of the amber liquid in a crystal glass in the other, John slid into a stool at the kitchen counter. Dog wandered around the room, whining despondently when he neared a shelved table at the corner of room, where the wall of the kitchen and the hallway joined. The top was still littered with things she’d left behind, the kind of things that John assumed blurred the lines of ownership. Some of Dog’s toys, ornaments she’d bought in an attempt to add personality to the place and of course, more pictures. Standing about half foot away from the stand, Dog trotted in his place, whining and John took a lengthy sip before turning to him, “I know boy,” he sympathized, “I miss her too.”

Dog didn’t seem to notice John, and it pained him even more to think that they were both hurting. Y/n had been good to Dog, she adored him and often, he could return home to find them playing together in the backyard or cuddled on the sofa watching television. One of the reasons that John could often leave for work so readily was because he knew, that in his absence, Dog would protect Y/n with his life. 

“Come ‘ere boy,” John called, and seeming to give into him, Dog just hung his head, moving over to lay at John’s feet. Though, the painful silence didn’t last long, because in just a couple minutes, his furry friend was up again, that time hurrying to the front door; barking as if to tell John to follow him, his ears alert. “What?” John grumbled, wondering what the dog could possibly want with outside at nearly one am. 

At the front door, Dog jumped anxiously, barking and begging as John sifted though the keys, looking for the right one, “Alright, calm down,” he shushed, about to slip the right key into the slot when his trained ears heard it; the hum of a car growing closer and eventually parking at the top of his yard, light footsteps approaching the door. 

Thinking the worst, John stepped away from the door; judging from the sound of the footfalls, his uninvited guest was on the lighter side. Not before long, soft knocks hit the heavy wooden door and John figured that the faint taps made the person seem almost afraid to draw his attention. Ignoring John wordless demands to get back, Dog lunged for the door again, barking excitedly, presumably begging John to open it. 

After a debate, where through it, Dog primarily ignored him, John finally succumbed, unlocking the door and pulling it open, gasping quietly when he saw who it was. Swallowing tightly, John licked his lips, not even noticing that Dog had started jumping at her feet. 

Briefly, Y/n bent, scratching between his floppy ears and hugging him quickly, one might have assumed she missed the animal more than she missed John. “Y/n,” even saying her name hurt, “What are you doing here? It’s so late.” Though a huge part of him was happy to see her, hoping it meant that she was coming back, John was also worried; she shouldn’t have been out past midnight alone, anything could happen.

Ignoring his question, Y/n’s fiddled with her fingers nervously and John thought she looked tired and a bit worn out, though still absolutely beautiful, the same woman he wanted to marry, the woman he’d still marry if given the opportunity. “Did I wake you?”

Raking his short nails through his scruff, John shook his head, “No, I uh....” haven’t been sleeping much, “Haven’t gone to bed yet.”

“Oh,” she forced a smile, though her breath shuddered and John could see the first hints of tears in her eyes, “Can we talk? Please?”

“Yeah, sure, of course,” John pulled the door open some more, “Come in,” he huffed, feeling a little strange inviting her in; he had bought the place long before he’d met Y/n, but it was her house too. Their home. 

“Thanks,” she smiled tightly, pulling her thick, woolen cardigan closed as she stepped inside, more out of nervousness than coldness. Awkwardly, she waited for John to lead her towards the familiar kitchen. Immediately, she noticed the glass and the bottle, noting that he’d been drinking, but hoping it wasn’t too much. 

Catching her staring John hesitantly offered, “Can I get you a glass?” 

Y/n shuddered again, she loved whiskey almost as much as John did, learning loads about the drink from her father, who before his passing a couple years ago, was a collector of rare bottles. Even in her young age, Y/n could probably name the more popular labels by just tasting them. It was one of the things that she and John had bonded over in the beginning and before he passed, her father respected John’s refined taste. John and her father; they had become fast friends, Y/n wondered what he’d think now. Y/n also hated thinking that he’d never meet his first grand-kid. 

“No thanks,” Y/n waved off his offer and she could see, even in the low lighting, the furrow in John’s brows. 

“Okay,” John managed, moving the things away, “Should we sit?” He gestured to the stools.

“We should,” Y/n claimed the one next to John’s. Internally, she scolded herself for procrastinating. She had planned the entire thing in her head, yet, from the minute she saw him, all of her courage melted away, probably still in a puddle at the front door. She knew that it wouldn’t have been easy, but it shouldn’t have been that hard either. Absently, Y/n placed a hand at the top of her stomach, trying to quell the nerve included nausea all while slowing her heartbeat.

She hoped he hadn’t noticed, but John knew her better than most and worriedly, he reached out, tentatively resting his hand on her arm, his eyes worried, “You okay? Can I get you something?”

“No,” Y/n breathed, blinking away tears, “I’m fine, I just need to.....umm...” Blurting out seemed a little too brash and suddenly, Y/n was at a loss for the right words.

“Are you sure?” John felt a breath-stealing surge of worry swell in his chest. He hated seeing Y/n even remotely sick, and if he had his way, she’d never be troubled.

Nodding vigorously, Y/n swallowed tightly, “John, I uh.....I have to tell you something,” nonspeaking, John questioned her with his chocolate gaze, licking his lips, “I’m.....I’m pregnant.” 

“Pregnant?” He breathed. In another instance, he’d be overjoyed; it was one of the reasons he’d bought the ring. John had promised Y/n that he’d get out long ago, but lately, he’d finally started seeing a way of doing just that. No longer under the mob, he’d just have a few loose end to tie up before he was done for good and he and Y/n could get married and hopefully, soon start a family. The idea had given John a giddiness and he was over the moon with the prospect of their future. Had things gone as planned, John would have gathered Y/n in his arms from the minute she told him she was carrying their child. Hell, he might have been there when she found out.

But finding out like that; when she no longer lived with him, when she’d made it clear that he wasn’t any good for her, it was confusing. Part of him was still happy, he’d always wanted to be a father, so he could give someone the thing things he’d longed for as an orphaned child. But another part was worried; worried that she was only telling him to be polite, that she was about to follow it up with the admission that she didn’t want a part of him with her like that. Unknowing of how to proceed, John asked what he thought was the most logical, and perhaps impersonal question, “How far along are you?”

“Nine weeks,” Y/n looked down at her lap, before meeting his eyes once again, “I’ve only known for a few days now, so I understand if you’re surprised. I wasn’t expecting this either.”

Nodding, John stood, combing his hands through his hair. Her words had him a little unsettled, “Are you,” he winced at the words, hating how harsh they sounded, “Keeping it?” He’d respect her decision either way, it was her body after all, “Obviously, I wouldn’t want you to feel pressured-”

“I could never....” Y/n shuddered of at the thought; she respected the notion of choice, but she could personally never do it. “I’m keeping it,” shaking her head, Y/n corrected, “I’m keeping the baby,” she couldn’t get her head wrapped around the idea of calling their child an ‘it’ even if she logically knew it was still just a fetus and probably couldn’t even hear her.  

Sighing in relief, John moved to the other side of the counter, all in an effort to put some distance between them and get his emotions under wraps, “Okay,” he dragged his lips between his teeth, “Have you done one of those......DNA test things?” he didn’t know why it mattered, but some part of him screamed that it did.

Scoffing, annoyed Y/n folded her arms, “This baby is obviously yours!”

“I know that,” John stressed, just realizing how insulting the question must have sounded, “I meant,” he searched for the words, though his very finite knowledge on the medical jargon had him stammering, “You know, one of those tests where you find out the gender.”

“Oh,” Y/n frowned, wishing she hadn’t just taken that tone with John. She knew him well enough to know that he trusted her. “No, I haven’t. I wanted to wait,” she smiled sheepishly, though it looked more like a faint frown.

Licking his lips, “Okay.” For a while, they fell into silence. Everything that he thought of saying felt wrong, like he’d be overstepping somehow. It was funny he thought, he’d known Y/n for five years, she was pregnant with their child, yet all it only took was six weeks to put a seemingly unbridgeable space between them. Though, according to Y/n, that distance had existed long before their break-up. 

Courage. That’s what he needed. John typically had it in excess, his job required it. But that night, he seemed severely lacking in that department. His thoughts swam in a pool of confusion and indecision as he debated whether or not he should try to convince her to come back.

In the interim, Dog had made his presence known at Y/n’s side, somehow sensing that his other person needed him more than John did, stationed protectively at her feet. 

Finally summoning some resolve, John reached over the granite, his fingers just barely brushing Y/n’s, “You could come back,” he suggested.

When she pulled her hand away, John had to pretend it didn’t sting and when Y/n stood, Dog did too, on high alert, “That’s not why I came here tonight. We don’t have to be together just because we’re having a baby together.”

“So why did you come?” John folded his arms across his broad chest, “So you could walk out of my life again, but make it hurt more this time?” He grew defensive, hating that she wasn’t willing to change her mind.

“You think I came here to hurt you?” Y/n’s voice rose, “I came here because it was the right thing to do. I don’t need you to....”

“To what Y/n?” John could feel the tension building between them, a long over due fight on the horizon, “To stifle you?”

Y/n chuckled humorlessly, “God, you’re so....” she sighed, ranking a hand through her hair, “No John, I’m more worried about you just popping in and out of this kid’s life. You know, like you did mine.”

“I told you, I only did that to keep you safe,” he managed through gritted teeth.

“And I told you that I didn’t need you to keep me safe!” She yelled. “You know what? Maybe coming here was a mistake,” already, Y/n was swiping her keys off the counter, and starting to walk off.

A few paces behind, John wasn’t ready to let her go so easily that time. He couldn’t let her got, not when she was mad, not when he felt, despite her protests, that it was his job to protect her and their baby, not when there was still so much he had to say, “Oh yeah?” John huffed, “And what were your other options? Hide it, do this on your own and never tell me about our baby?”

“Yeah John. And I was gonna do it too, but I figured that there were already enough secrets between us. Didn’t really feel like adding one more to the pile,” there was a venom in her tone and as they stood at the door John and Y/n both wondered where it came from. How did still loving each other turn into so much anger.?

They both stood there, eyes challenging, something tense flowing between them. Y/n did still love John, but that night wasn’t going the she’d expected it to, though, she wasn’t really sure what she was expecting. Maybe it would have been easier if John had told her he didn’t want the baby, that way she could disappear from his life with a reason to hate him, with an excuse to give their little one someday. But he just had to step up to the plate, be the good man she knew him as, make her love him even more. 

On his end, there was so much John wanted to say; he wanted her to know that he had planned to get out, to commit fully to her and now, to raising their child. But the more she pushed him away, the more defensive he became. Not speaking, he held her gaze, not even knowing if trying to fix things would make them better or worse.

“I’m leaving John,” Y/n’s voice broke and John’s anger cracked. He didn’t want her to go. Y/n didn’t want to stay. His fingers itched to reach out, his heart bled with the desire to beg her to talk things through with him. But John knew Y/n; he knew her will and determination, how hard it was to change her mind when she’d made a decision. So instead of starting another fight, John let her go, just like he had nearly two months ago

That night was different though, there was a new bitterness between them, and something buried deep in the back of their minds told both John and Y/n that things weren’t near over. 

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