Every once in a while Sebastia kissed him like she knew she might not come back. Those days worried him. John hated waiting for the next time she'd show up, waiting to know she was still breathing.
Finally he'd had enough. He followed her one day, winding through the street, staying lost in the crowd. He followed her to a large abandoned warehouse. Why was it always a warehouse? He crouched by a window, watching, waiting.
After a few minutes a man showed up, and he didn't look happy. John couldn't understand what they were saying, but he didn't like the scowl on the man's face. He froze when the burly man pulled a gun. Sebastia pulled one as well, but he knocked it away, hitting her across the face and knocking her to the ground. John only hesitated for a moment before taking the shot. Through his shoulder, so the man wouldn't be dead until Sebastia wanted him dead. Then John was gone. He heard another gunshot as he was leaving.
She turned up that afternoon while he was making tea, trapping him between her and the counter with a scowl. "John, what the hell were you thinking?"
John wrapped his arms around her waist, turning so it was her back to the counter. "I was saving you, you should-"
"John, you shouldn't have followed me, I-"
"Would you still be breathing if I hadn't," he shouted. She just glared at him, jaw set. His expression softened, stroking her cheek with the backs of her fingers. She closed her eyes and leaned into the caress. "I can't lose you," he murmured. She peeked up at him, then pushed up onto her tiptoes to kiss him hard. He pulled her closer, leaning his forehead against hers once they broke apart.
"Thank you, John," she whispered. "Don't you dare do it again."