"Goodbye" kiss for my john and gennie pls
THIS WAS JUST PLAIN R U D E.
No matter how often she heard it, how old she lived to be, or who was the one pulling the trigger, Genevieve Lock would never get used to the sound of gunfire. At the sound of each shot, of which there were many, Gennie flinched, her whole body reacting to the sound as she dropped to the ground, covering her head with her hands in a desperate and feeble attempt to protect herself. The Italians were organised and precise, like a well oiled machine. They’d come that morning with an agenda, a vendetta, and on getting their pound of flesh they disappeared back into the English countryside. The whole thing was over almost as soon as it had began, and after the rain of gunfire there was a blissful moment of silence, although this was just as fleeting.
Gennie’s hands were still quaking as she moved them from her head and she slowly, shakily, pulled herself up into a kneeling position. The air around her was thick with what looked like fog, but was actually the aftermath of rapid gunfire and the burning of gunpowder, and as it cleared the devastation of the Italian’s ambush became desperately clear.
The low wall that surrounded John Shelby’s home was peppered with large bullet holes, leaving shards of brick and cement scattered across the floor, covering the entire garden in dust. Shrubbery was blown to pieces, leaves stripped clean off the stems of the flowers Gennie had no doubt John had very little to do with. Then, in the centre of it all, there was John. He lay on his back, his white shirt slowly turning a crimson red with the blood it was rapidly becoming saturated with.
Genevieve cried out at the sight of him and surged forwards, scrambling across the concrete floor towards him. She gingerly picked up his head, resting it on her lap as she caressed his face. “John...” She said his name, her voice breathless as the severity of his injuries dawned on her.
Behind her Michael groaned, injured also, though not as severely. Gennie glanced over her shoulder towards him, suddenly very aware of just how alone she was out here in the English countryside. Her entire life she’d always had a Shelby by her side, looking out for her, and now it looked as though she was going to have to look out for herself.
“John.” She said again, this time through tears as she turned to look at him once more. John’s eyes were open, and he blinked slowly up at her, though he didn’t say a word. “John, I’m so sorry...please...” She sobbed hard, tears streaming down her face. “John, please, I can’t...I can’t loose you too.” She leaned down, pressing her lips gently against his, her face wet with tears.
John tried to speak, to say all of the things he’d been meaning to say for years. He wanted so badly to tell Gennie Lock how much he cared for her, how dearly he loved her, how he wanted nothing more than to see her smile.
“Shhh...” She whispered, stroking his face once more. “It’s okay. I know.” She kissed him again, gently, for barely more than a moment. “I love you. I love you John Shelby.”
