Hellweek25 "Autumn" prompt. Fall is the season of change, of transition, death, and decay. Noah Ikumelo inherits many ghosts, including the legacy of the Constantine men.
Okay, give us the darkness, give us the broken, give us the pathos. Show the Constantine core. This is a freeform ask, to the Mun more than the muse. Have fun!!!
"no," A sleeping John mumbled, instinctively shriveling on himself in the king sized bed, adopting a fetal position and covering his face with his arms "not the belt, no, please" The blond further tucked his head betwixt his arms for protection as he let out squeaky nasal noises he'd long thought he was no longer capable of emiting and physically wincing with each past hit. Eventually, the currently metaphorical but once very real strikes of leather against his skin stopped, and John indulged himself the quiet whimpering as the sound of his father's retreating footsteps resonated in his ears, far too loud, far too grand, for such a small miserable brittle man. John's position eventually shifted, fingers kneading in the soft fabric of a pillow as he wept quietly. He'd gotten good at that, as a kid. As quiet as a mouse. Still, sometimes, too loud for the old man, too loud for Cheryl to muffle in the crook of her arms or manage to quiet with soft shushes.
It seemed tonight, would be one of those night. Because the old man returned. More corpse than man, now, looking like Gemma's once terrifying visions. He had a bottle. Because of course he had a bottle when he would stumble close, slurring angrily about John ruining it all and still playing the victim card with his tears, 'as if you didn't fucking kill her', the old man would say, 'as if you didn't take away the best of us, the only one of us capable of turning this wretched place into a home!' John flinched at the sensation of drops of alcohol reaching his face, but making no move to wipe them away. No, he sat still, quiet, swallowing away his own snot and biting his lip to oblivion to stop the tremors. Terrorized, the blond watched his old man sit on his bed, 'you killed your brother too, you know' he said, as if Thomas Constantine hadn't asked his wife to abort, 'that's what ye'er, a killer, a bastard'. John could endure the name calling, knew if he endured it well, quietly, without a wrong note, than the man would run out of steam and stumble out exhausted and ready to pass out on the couch. Or so, normally was the case. But Thomas crept closer, his ghoulish gaze fixated in his son, 'drink, come on," he held the bottle out, 'drink it all to the last drop Johnny, come and join us. Me, your mom," he chuckled, "even the dead twin Johnny boy, we're all waiting for you, drink! DRINK!"
But John wasn't a boy anymore, no. John was a man. A grown man. A prepared man. A man who slept with a retractable switchblade under his pillow for nights like these. So John reached for the knife and held it out to a ghost. Who faded as his consciousness returned. The blonde wiped at the wetness beneath his nose. "Taken my nightmares, my ass." John let out, referring to his deal with a particular Endless in return for a pouch of sand. The blond dropped the knife atop the covers, letting himself fall backwards into the bed and covering his eyes with his hand as the telltale signs of a good cry made themselves known. Except this was accompanied by such an intense wave of nausea that the exorcist had to rush out of bed and to the nearest sink, dry heaving and only managing to rid himself of accumulating spit, though he kept gagging.
Eventually, the blond managed to stop, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and attempting to stand as he panted heavily, eyes watery still.
"You should've just drunk boy. All you have to do, is keep drinking. Always."
Tears welled in the blond's eyes as he clenched his jaw at the words coming from an all too familiar voice, turning around to be faced with what he knew was little but an apparation conjured by his guilt, by his trauma, the two so intricately laced when it came to Thomas Constantine's death.
"You're fucked anyway. You're going to die young because you smoked 30 cigarettes a day since you were 15."
"Actually, I already took care of that. Cancer's all gone." John replied, attempting to feign confidence in front of his first tormentor as tears welled in his eyes.
The ghost chuckled. "Right. Took your own life. About 30 to what roughly 40?, years too late if you ask me... But at least you know, you're going to go to hell because of the life you took. And until you get there, which you will, eventually, because that's where men like you and I belong, you'll suffer Johnny. You were born to suffering. You shall live, suffering. And die, to suffer eternally."'John's eyes twitched and his chin trembled as the tears spilled. "Oh, don't give me the martyr act, conman. I gave you all the tools, to build that one from the ground. I know all your little tricks. Could always see it in you, the emptiness you slowly filled with falseness. You don't know how to be human John. That's why you can be a bastard so well, inhabit the role so completely. It's all there is to you. All the hocus pocus bogus is just extra theatrics, because you know. You know that everything you've ever done, you've only ever done for yourself, squandering your 'gifts'," the old man let out the word with much digust, "on selfish endeavours. So drink Johnny. Don't fight it, enjoy it. It's in your nature after all. We'll see you very soon." The ghost promised, before fading away. And John hurled the first think he got ahold of at the emptiness, shouting in frustration. Before crumbling to his knees, holding himself tight, alone and scared.
John Constantine's father Thomas Constantine was introduced to the New Earth timeline in Hellblazer 28, cover date April 1990. He was created by Jamie Delano and Ron Tiner. ("Thicker Than Water" Hellblazer 28, DC Comic Event)
Half the time you don't know he's a dad cause he's gone to get that milk for centuries and the other half you wanna hit your head on the wall cause he sucks at parenting sm
Thomas Constantine:
look at this man's son and tell me this fucker is not awful. forced a failed miscariage on his wife, resulting in the death of her and John's unborn twin, then blamed John for it.
