john contemplates lisa. written second person to john
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She's standing across the room from you, leaning on the kitchen counter right at the sink, and staring out of the window. You're watching her, but you don't know why. The early morning sun lies softly across her face, illuminating her freckles, and it makes your chest feel full. There she is, Lisa Pearson, the only one in the universe. The only one who really knows you, it seems.
The only one who lives in your house with you, the only one who greets you every morning and kisses you every night. The only one who finds you sitting on the floor by yourself after a particularly bad nightmare. The only one who takes you back to bed and holds you, pets your hair and talks to you softly until you fall asleep again. She's the only one in the universe and she's right here, with you. You could cry tears of joy.
You're watching her and the sunlight on her freckles, and the way her hands gently grip the countertop, and the way her hair is slowly falling from behind her ear. And suddenly, you're stricken with this thought that… You don't really know her, do you?
It's been a year now that you've been together, but that's much less than the years you were apart. You had somewhat been in contact with her that entire time, but that doesn't make up for the fact that she grew up without you. Childhood promises fell by the wayside and you fell out of each other's lives, growing further and further apart as time went on.
You feel a strong twinge of guilt. She had to learn what the world was like, without you. She had to come to grips with harsh realities, without you. You should have been there, you tell yourself. And there's nothing that can make up for the fact that you weren't.
This woman standing in front of you, she has an entire life that you don't know about. That you'll never know about. No amount of words from her mouth could inform you of all that you've missed. There's an infinity inside of her that you'll never know. You pray that you'll spend the rest of your life trying, though.
Who was she, to other people? A best friend? A rebellious daughter, a partner in crime, the one that got away? To you, she's… Well, she's everything. She is a best friend. And a partner, a lover, your family, your life. You feel like you've only just found her again, and yet you'd be lost without her.
You wonder what she's like when you're not in the room. You can't imagine her being any less elegant, any less beautiful. Does she tell herself these same things you're thinking now? Does she feel guilt for not being with you as you grew up? You suppose you could ask her, but she might not tell you. Not right now, at least.
It would be later, when you're sharing a bed with her, both exhausted from the day, or from a night out, or from making love. You'd turn to her and say, "I wish I'd never left you." Her green eyes would sparkle as she smiles at you, and she would lift a hand to push your hair back from your forehead. And she'd say, "You never did."
She calls your name, half concerned and half amused, and you realize you're still staring at her where she's standing across the room from you in the kitchen. You apologize and tell her you were just zoning out, and she accepts this with a laugh. Lisa Pearson might very well be her own universe, but at least she is in yours.
a drabble of john going through it after his nightmare in episode 2
content warning for general unreality and delusion and a mention of suicidal ideation
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John knows he's awake. He has to be awake. The dream, the vision, whatever it was-- it's over now, and he's back to the plane of the living. The place he's from. Right?
But when he looks in the mirror, the person staring back is... not him. It looks like him, sure. Like a really accurate caricature. He touches his face, the stubble of his cheek rough against his fingers. It feels like him. Though he could have sworn his skin was not as thin.
He reaches higher, gingerly touches his left eye. It still... aches, from the vision. He's glad it's there, but it still doesn't feel... right. He can still feel the cold metal of the key in it, as if from a parallel reality. As if it were still stuck there, on a different plane.
As he stands there and stares at his strange reflection, John decides that this is not him. There is something too wrong about it. He feels placed here, he feels... grafted. Who could have put him here, and why? What other plane, other dimension, other memory was he in? Where was he really?
He thinks of the dream. The abandoned church in front of the cornfield. Was he still there? Still fighting off the demonic ghost of some monster from his deep memories? Perhaps he was still there but twenty-three years ago, still a child at the orphanage, unwitting to what was about to happen to him. Could he stop it, if that was the case?
Maybe he's still in the forests of Snake Meadow Hill Road, looking for the girl whose soul he condemned. The weight of the rifle is heavy in his hands even now. What had he done? He almost couldn't remember. If he was there, he could only hope he puts the rifle back down.
He could be in the psychiatric institute, still. It was true he had lost a chunk of himself there when he left. He hopes for his own sake he's not there, because on this side, there's nothing stopping him from taking his own life. He had wanted to more than almost anything, then.
John's been looking in the mirror too long. His features slowly twist and distort in his vision, in the dim light of the bathroom, until he doesn't feel he looks like himself at all. He doesn't know who he is, or where he is, or when he is. He simply knows that the only thing there is to do is to go back to bed. And he prays there will be no more visions.
i headcanon that when john has nightmares he goes and sits on the floor by himself to try to clear his head... lisa has to go find him when she wakes up without him next to her
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