Chapter 18: Contemplation
A/N: Sorry if the chapter's a little lacking, I'm planning on making the next one a 10k+. I just wanted a little fluff before...um, the other things. Trust and believe it's gonna be good.
It's been a while since you went with your mother on a grocery store run. You just so happened to drop by earlier in the morning as she was getting ready to leave the house. She explained to you that her and your father have decided to stock up for Thanksgiving early before the shelves are completely empty. It's a smart thing to do since you know how crazy it gets in stores this time of year.
Accompanying your mother to the store in this manner makes you feel like you're eight again. All you're doing is falling into step behind her while she picks stuff off the shelves. When you used to wait for her to face another direction to sneak stuff into the basket. She always pretended like she didn't notice but you knew full well that nothing escaped her notice. Even when the item is wrung up by the cashier, she never made you put it back. For that reason alone, you're relieved that you don't have one of those 'When we get in this store don't touch nothing' mother. You know not to get it twisted. You being an only child might've heavily influenced that.
While your mother is preoccupied reading a label on a can of beans, your mind automatically shifts back to two nights ago when John came back home.
Exhaustion and dizziness clung to your still disoriented subconscious. It's like when a person is so tired that their brain and body more or less checks out for a period of time.
You faintly register John picking your limp frame up from the floor before carrying you upstairs. Needless to say, he's not the type to leave you sprawled on the floor like a ragdoll. Especially after he's the reason why you're there in the first place. Once he reaches the master bedroom, he lays you on the bed while he strides towards the bathroom, after a brief moment you hear the taps start up and figure out that he's running you a hot bath just as you did for him earlier.
You're surprised when he returns and starts to gather your hair up into a decent messy bun, probably to prevent it from getting wet. Afterwards, you're carried into the bathroom and slowly submerged into the tub, with you being positioned comfortably between his open legs.
This isn't your first time bathing with him, only this time he joins you in the water. Unable to will your body to do much else, you just lean against him for support. Without his support, you'd probably fall asleep and accidentally drown.
The bath is shared in comfortable silence.
Per its intended purpose, the water encouraged a loosening in your muscles, as if they weren't weakened enough already but the heady activities that came before it. You still feel a little discomfort in your lower half but it's not bad enough to be classified as painful.
It could just be you but your phlegmatic lover seemed moderately concerned about your current dazed disposition. Regardless of how loopy you felt, you're still able to make out the skeptical, concerned look in his eyes. John ran the soapy towel in palliate circles over your shoulders and back first. When that was done he moved on towards your chest while you tried not to shiver as the wet cloth made contact with your hardening nipples. Even from his place behind you, you know he had a generous view of the stiffening buds. John then shifted attention to your arms and stomach thereafter.
He washes your body with the utmost gentleness, using a soft wash cloth to cleanse your brown skin. While he's washed you up before, it doesn't feel any less intimate. At this juncture, you're not embarrassed about him seeing your body. He's already seen everything you had to offer and more. The two of you were well past the point of retaining any sort of modesty.
You wished you could offer him more assistance as the man meticulously cleaned your plaint body but there's no way for you to lift up your arms. Your motor functioning and balance is severely off and you feel like you're fading in and out of consciousness. Naturally, you come to when he spreads your legs and begins tenderly cleaning the most sensitive part of your body. As carefully as one can be, John washes between your legs so as not to stir any remaining arousal, the movements slow and deliberate. Not that you're capable after a session like the one he put you through.
Once the cleaning was over, the two of you didn't leave the tub immediately, instead John allowed the both of you to soak in the steaming water. It's like you don't even register being lifted from the bath and wrapped in a towel, then transported back to the bedroom. Everything is pretty much a blur.
You're mentally and physically exhausted and you have every reason to be. Of course, you'd gotten tired after sexual proclivities before but this was something different. This time the sex had taken everything out of you.
He tucks you into bed but before he can pull away, you take hold of his tricep. "Please don't go...I hate when you leave. I always feel lonely." In all honesty, you don't know where that came from but you simply chalk it up to tiredness.
With your revealing confession, you clearly see a softening in John's eyes that you're surprised that you managed to catch. Irrespectively, it still counts as one of the more surprising emotions from him that you've seen quite a few times as of late.
He chose not to deliberate any longer and subsequently joined you in bed. You wasted no time wrapping yourself around him, nestling against his larger, warmer body. The sheets are pulled up over both your bodies. One of John's arms wraps around you, holding you even closer to him. It's the perfect position to fall asleep in, and yet - your eyelids don't want to close.
Beneath you John breathes evenly, his chest inhaling and exhaling deeply. You can't believe it's gotten to this point, him letting you lay on his chest to drift asleep. It's the definition of vanilla but you're in too deep to get out now.
Dexterous fingers start to stroke the curve of your hip.
"Hey John..."
"Yes?"
"You um..put your fingers in my..." You paused, not really wanting to finish the sentence but you're sure he knew what you were referring to.
"Did you like it?"
The question made your cheeks burn. "Yeah. Probably a little too much." You answered.
The hand at your hips slides down to cup the globe of your backside. "Are you alright?"
Right away, you know what he's referring to - the nimble fingers winding up in your ass during the rough sex session that had taken place not long ago.
"Yeah. I'm fine."
"John...can I ask you something?" You paused, swallowing despite your mouth feeling dry. "It's about something you said earlier...about your childhood."
You have no idea if you're venturing into uncharted, forbidden territory with the things you want to ask him. It might be too personal for him to go into detail and you don't want to cross any boundaries. The worst thing he could do was refuse to answer or rebuff you altogether. He's always been forthright with you, so he had no reason not to be at the moment.
"Go ahead." He spoke to you in that calm, dignified tone.
"Those things you told me, is it really true?" You asked in a mild, almost whispered tone.
John's body tenses slightly beneath you and you think he did it unconsciously.
A beat of silence passes.
"Yes."
From what little you gathered, John was made to live by a strict regime and code from an early age. As a child, you could barely even follow the simple instructions your teachers gave you in school. You can't imagine living such a life being deprived of food and water for any reason. From your point of view, it sounded torturous. You'd heard of crazy parents and guardians who teach kids to use guns and live a militaristic lifestyle but John's seemed more dire than that.
Whatever happened all those years ago had undoubtedly shaped John into becoming the man he was at the present. And you know full well that experiences from childhood often set the foundation for who a person becomes as an adult.
"I'm sorry. That must've been hard for you."
It bothers you that you likely wouldn't have known about any of this unless he hadn't chosen to disclose it to you. You hadn't expected him to reveal such personal information about his mysterious past - the very catalyst that led him to become heavily involved in criminal activities. You wondered if he had a family out there somewhere. He had to have at least one relative, he couldn't be all alone in this world with no one to call on. Your heart broke at the implication but you couldn't resist asking.
"Do you have a family?"
"No." His voice is low and monotonous.
The coldly spoken admission was crushing. Was it possible that he knew nothing but cruelty all his life? "That lifestyle. Is that all you know - all you've ever known?"
Another moment of complete silence.
"Yes."
With that confession, you now know that it's a very real possibility that your lover has been involved with criminal activities since he was young. It sounded like he didn't have much or a childhood at all.
His past is and always will be an integral part of who he is. You can't imagine what it's like being brought up as a contract killer. In addition to that, him not having a normal upbringing was a given. And yet, you hate to think that he's suffered or gone through any kind of hardship given the type of man he's shown you to be. John is a trained killer no doubt, but he's not a soulless man. He is not without a conscience. He's a man who's committed horrible acts that appears to rake no pleasure in doing so. Time after time again he's proven that he cares for you. He really doesn't even have to tell you how he feels when it's shown in his actions and how you're able to recognize it. Although a verbal response would be just as effective. He does for you just like you do for him.
Underneath it all, John Wick is a very passionate, kind man. Those hidden traits are quite literal what led you to fall in love with him - with a literal killer.
"Do you wish you could've been something else?"
An occupation like his forces one to live a very lonely and solitary life.
That question is more complicated and he seems to ponder it for a while.
"For a time, yes."
You made it a mission to soak all the information into your brain, storing it away in the deep recesses of your mind never to be forgotten. Transparency is important in many relationships, even an undefined one like you and John's. Sometimes you think you know who he is but at the same time, you feel like you really don't.
And you're delighted that he deemed you trustworthy enough to elucidate further. As a matter of fact, you saw it as him opening up to you more - him choosing to peel back the layers of sealed off layers of him as a man. Even if he just confides in you for comfort and safety, you wouldn't mind it. Coming from man like Joh, you consider it to be an honor. To be his person, to be his safe place. Were you that person? Were you his person? Being liked is good but being valued is better.
"I can't really explain it but I feel special in a way. I feel special because you told me. I know something like that isn't easy to talk about."
By now, it's obvious that the two of you have an effect on each other. A meaningful bond has been established between you two. Sleeping in the same bed with him, accommodating each other, you feel innately connected.
Regardless, it gives you a lot to think about. Even after everything, you still wanted to know more about him, more about his life prior to meeting you.
You snap out of your reverie and back into the present.
The can of beans has been set aside and your mother is further down the aisle. She is in a fantastic mood today as she pushes the cart down each while you follow closely behind her. She even asks you periodically what your opinion is on some of the food items lining the shelves. She has a list in her right hand that she's going over as she pursues the shelves. You know your mother will take her sweet time picking out the best food items regardless so there's no need in rushing her. For your sake, you just hope she doesn't run into any friends or acquaintances or you'll both be here for at least another hour.
Similarly, you're thinking of making your own trip to the Whole Foods store to pick up a few things for the next time you decide to cook. In view of the fact, that your patience is set up correctly to handle any overly friendly employees and any hippie art teacher that decides to chat you up over which bread is the best.
A chill runs through you despite being dressed in athletic pants and a thin hoodie. You hate how cold it gets in the freezer section of the store. The slight chill makes your hands into the pocket of your hoodie. You briefly consider sneaking a few Hershey bars into the basket but you frown at the thought of eating them later.
An older black lady compliments you by telling you how beautiful she thinks you are. Everyone likes to be told that they're beautiful and it means a lot from an older black woman.
Rummaging through her purse to pull out multiple coupons, presumably taken from newspapers and other mail. It's such a typical thing for her to do, such a typical mom thing period. And something she likely picked up from your grandmother who in her own words, didn't want to 'spend more than she had to'. It's sound logic and you can't argue against it.
"Who still uses coupons?"
"I do. It'll save me some money."
"Yeah like two dollars." You murmured under your breath but not low enough to the point where the other woman couldn't hear.
"With that two dollars I'm still saving money while you talkin. Listen to me child, I'm tryna learn you something."
She checks over the basket one more time to make sure. "Hold on, I forgot something. Watch my basket, I'll be right back."
You absolutely hate it when she leaves you with the basket at the register. Somehow she always conveniently forgets to get something and has to run and get it. You can't handle the anxiety that comes with it. The stares from the people waiting behind you. The fact that a line has accumulated behind the basket so quickly is worrisome. One thing about it, your mother never gave a damn about holding the line up. But who was going to check her about it? Not a soul.
She just needs to come back asap.
Even as an adult, you have to confess that you still experience that little sliver of childish panic of losing your mother in the store and not knowing where she was. It's all made far worse by the fact that you're a fully grown adult that shouldn't be acting like this.
The house looks slightly different when you both make it back. Not that you're all that surprised - decorating is just one of your mother's many passions. If buying new home décor was a career, then she excelled at it no doubt. She was the type to buy an ugly home accessory and make it look beautiful in any place within the house. Frankly, you think it's a great talent to have.
It didn't take long to luge the bags into the house straight towards the kitchen. After placing the bags on the island counter, your mother went right to her Keurig to prepare what would be her last cup of coffee for the day. You took a seat right on one of the island chairs.
"Where's daddy?"
"Upstairs in the bed. He went out drinking with Mr. Rodney last night and got me doing all this running around for him." She explains.
She sipped absentmindedly from the cup, eyes trailing over your face - for what, you didn't exactly know.
As she procures the creamer from the cabinet above her, she completely derails your thought process by asking, "You got a boyfriend don't you?"
The question brings unwanted tension in the room and the way she asks it makes it feel like you're being outright accused rather than actually questioned. You're trying to figure out where it came from. It's a good thing she turned away, or your expression would've given you away right then and there. It's also becoming apparent that you didn't deny it quick enough.
With your eyes wide, you hurriedly throw out a nonchalant. "No. What makes you think that?"
At that, she turns around to face you. "Just a few things have caught my attention and you haven't been coming around much lately."
At the observation, you clamped your lips together tightly. As you're listening to her explanation, it's becoming painfully clear that you might be a damn psychic or something. This was simply unreal. Not that it's surprising. Your mother has always been intuitive like that, plus she claims to know her only child better than you know yourself. To this day, her intuition was something you couldn't doubt even if you wanted to.
Was it that obvious?
"I don't have no boyfriend."
She gives you "The look" in response. She doesn't have to say anything, the look pretty much speaks for itself and tells you all you need to know. She's basically letting you know that she knows. She's the type to open your mail if it gets mailed to her address.
"What?!"
"I've been young once, I know these things." She tells you as continues to stare back unbelievably.
"I don't care that you have one, I just want to know why you didn't tell me."
"Why you being so secretive?"
"Why you being so nosey?" you shot back.
Part if you wondered what caused her to conjure up that idea out of nowhere. You're not stupid enough to think it just came out of left field like that. The explanation she gave shouldn't have been enough for her to make that conclusion.
You hadn't the slightest chance in hell to deny it without giving yourself away by way of facial expression. She could tell when you were lying. On top of that, you were sure that she hadn't forgotten about the car situation. You could practically see the gears turning in her head.
You promptly opened your mouth to reply but quickly shut it when you realized you could give yourself away. Once she assumes something, she automatically takes it as truth. You tell your mother almost everything. Almost. The one thing you haven't deluged to her was the thing you have with John. Clearly, your decision has your mother feeling some type of way. That you know for certain. And it makes you feel all types of bad. Chiefly owing to the fact that you hadn't the need to do so but truthfully, you still don't know if you should. But to her it comes off like you have something to hide when that's not the case at all. It's just...mitigating circumstances. Though even if you were to attempt to explain this to her, she would only want to know more details.
Truth be told, your friends shouldn't even know as much as they do about John. Speaking of which, they'd pressed you about what happened when John finally made it back home. You didn't give out too many details, you just told them that you and him had a little talk. Of course, they didn't buy it for a second. And you conveniently left out the part where he played in your butt. It's understandable seeing as you stand a good chance of dying from embarrassment while attempting to explain it to them. Hell, you're still struggling with the fact that it actually happened. Knowing their tendency to joke, you would never stop hearing about it, not even after you've transitioned to another life.
The older woman scoffed. "What? You scared imma tell your daddy?" She insinuated.
"No. Why would I be scared of that?" You added sheepishly, wanting to avoid the topic altogether.
"Well who else imma tell?"
Crossing your arms, you fixed your gaze on a tile on the floor.
"Oh so you're really not gonna tell me who your boyfriend is?"
Placing on the most suitable poker face you could manage, you mostly avoided direct eye contact. Lady Gaga would be proud. "I can't tell you I got something when I don't." Technically, you aren't lying, what You and John have isn't defined. You don't know what he is to you and the term boyfriend strangely doesn't come to mind.
You know your mother well enough to know that she has no filter and doesn't care what comes out of her mouth. "Mmmhhh...come over here and help me put these groceries in this fridge liar."
You could tell that she bothered that you were choosing not to be open with her, given how close the two of you are.
"I have an acquaintance. That's it." You sighed.
Your mother gave a bemused look. "And who's this acquaintance?" She pried further.
"My acquaintance." You repeated.
She cocked an eyebrow at you. "Okay then. Just don't do nothing I wouldn't do."
Your gut twisted unpleasantly. "What that mean?"
"It means a hard head makes for a soft ass." She said with conviction.
Unfortunately, all it did was confuse you. "But I haven't done anything."
"Mmmhhh." She pushes away from the counter. "I'll let it go for now."
That statement compelled you to lean back in the chair in relief. "Thank you."
Now that that was out of the way, you had a more pressing concern.
You needed to take this hair out of your head, the frontal was starting to lift and it was well overdue. You had it in for about two and a half weeks the hairstyle has successfully run its course. The hot comb and flat irons need a break and you do it. To be truthful, you'd never been fond of hairstyles that required maintenance almost everyday.
Every time you think of trying something new with your hair, you end up booking another braid appointment instead of actually stepping out of your comfort zone. Braids have been your go-to hairstyle since you were ten years old and you would never get tired of them. You absolutely love your natural hair but you just don't want to have to deal with it all the time.
The appointment with Shannon is tomorrow and this time you're thinking of getting the knotless braids this time. The braids have become in-demand overnight and they look good on every person you've seen wear them. At best, those braids can last for a good two months. Just about everyone on your Instagram timeline either has them or have already had them. But that's not the reason why you want to try them, you just know the braids would look good on you and you've never known a hairstyle that didn't.
"Ma can you help me take down my hair?"
"Look now, you gon have to start paying me for my services. I don't do hair like that anymore."
"You're not doing anything but helping me take it out."
She shrugged her shoulders. "That's still work."
"Don't act like you don't like it."
"That's really what you came over here for isn't it?"
"You know me so well." You smiled fondly.
"Stop being a smartass and go get the scissors." She laughed.
Early afternoon rolled around pretty quick by the time you left your parents house and made it back to John's place. Your hair looks exactly like it should after being preserved in cornrows that were two and a half weeks old. Consequently, your mother refused to help you take them down, citing how tender-headed you acted when she got in your head. That wasn't the case at all, she was just too heavy-handed for you. It was funny coming from her since you clearly knew her to be tender headed as well. In all actuality, you're ashamed to be walking in the house with the 'Shemar Moore struggle cornrows' from Tyler Perry's first wild film. The man was out of line for that wig. Properly speaking, you classified it as one of the biggest atrocities he's made against the black community to this day.
Trying to make it past the living room as quickly as you could, you're able to catch a brief glimpse of John coming in from the side patio door near the kitchen with Sweetface in toe. Presumably coming from a bathroom break or some play time outside. You could grant the pooch a chance to greet you this time as much you wanted to. It didn't much matter if you were gone for hours or days, Sweetface would always be happy to see you despite the circumstance. Hell he might not even recognize you this time.
In spite of this, you practically flew upstairs to the master bathroom, closing the door behind you. After placing your bag of hair products on the bathroom sink, you began the tedious process of taking down each of the cornrows one by one.
The build-up isn't all that bad. The dandruff almost looks like a snow storm but it was nothing a good wash couldn't fix. Your scalp is in desperate need of maintenance. Once the braids are down, you start the process of sectioning the hair.
The man had no outward reaction to your appearance, not that you really expected him to. Most of the time, John's visage is solely indifferent. He didn't speak much unless prompted to. If you didn't know him as well as you did you'd assume that he was an overly shy person. John's demeanor would easily be seen as frosty or detached to those who didn't truly know him. It's hard to explain but you don't see him as a ruthless hitman, in fact, you never did. He's just a structured man that lives by his own set of morals who has equipped himself to live a dangerous, unconventional life. Sure he has more than a few antisocial tendencies but you guess that's expected on account of his personality. Though you like to think he has a sweet spot for you.
You suddenly become actually aware that you were being watched. As a result, you glanced over to see John hovering in the doorway, using it as a leaning post as he watches you before he ultimately directs his gaze to the multitude of bottles spread over the counter.
What was he thinking besides the obvious? You'd give anything to know.
More than anything, he was probably more concerned about why the counter was stacked with hair products, wide tooth combs, and brushes.
"Um...I have a hair appointment tomorrow." Was all your befuddled mouth could make out.
A look of contemplation swirled within those deep brown orbs but he did not leave, instead he placed his hands in his pockets. You immediately get the sense that he's confused about the state of your hair. Honestly, you can't believe you've gotten to a point where you're comfortable enough to look like you do around him and not duck and hide.
Your stomach tightened. Was he just going to stand there and watch you the whole time?
You can practically feel the man's inquisitive gaze on you as you work. The temptation to fidget is strong but you ignore it. He makes for an unusual audience but it's also surprisingly welcome.
You could not pay attention to the stillness of his imposing frame and do your hair at the same time. His continued presence was making you flustered and clumsy and it didn't help that your hair was all over the place. Every aspect seemed to make it even more nerve-wracking.
Never at any point in life did you think you'd be explaining things of this nature to him. And the fact that he's actually listening to learn is even more astonishing.
And when you stepped inside the shower with your panties and bras still on, you nearly snorted when you caught a glimpse of the look he gave you. John does this thing where his brows furrow downwards and it looks like he's angry but he's really not and it's the cutest thing ever. And you think he does it unconsciously.
A smile pulled at your lips.
"I can't wash my hair in the sink." You explain. "I also sometimes wash my hair separately from when I take my actual shower, it would take too long."
He gazed intently at you as you spoke and it feels like you're doing a Youtube Tutorial.
After about two minutes your hair starts to revert back to curly as the water hits it. You spent a little time massaging the conditioner into your roots until you've got a good lather on.
You could never neglect your hair and this was the usual process before you get your hair done. Your routine is one you had to perfect by trial and error over the years. You had to learn what worked for you and what didn't.
It's actually when you come to realize that he's actually appraising you. You might've thought you looked a mess but that didn't mean he felt that way. Facial expressions were the next best thing since the man wasn't in the business of revealing what he was thinking. He's so quiet and subdued, unlike the deviant who had you pinned against the floor the other night.
You often found yourself wondering what could've attracted him to you - what about you specifically drew him in. There wasn't an idyllic circumstance for the two of you meeting one another like in the movies. The two of you met in a bar after a literal shootout while bodies littered the floor.
Alexis once tried to explain to you that you had a 'girl next door' type of vibe that easily drew people, especially men around. You fiercely protested the characterization of your person, that didn't sound much like you at all. You can see how you're down -to-earth and approachable but you're definitely not some idealized archetype that's perfect in every way. You aren't some perfect, modest woman with no flaws whose beauty can give you everything.
There's a lot of qualities that define you and just a few. Out of your friends, you're definitely the most friendly out of the bunch. You make a lot of mistakes and poor decisions. Sometimes you're awkward, unsure. Apparently, you wear your heart on your sleeve and it's a problem because your heart's too big sometimes. You're way too opinionated and outgoing, not sweet and quiet and as a result that bothers some people. As a black woman, you know how society loves to place labels on women who are known to be passionate about what they believe. As far as you were concerned, society can go fuck themselves.
You will be seen, heard, and respected if that's what you want to happen. Not to mention that you're still practicing how to love and accept yourself as you are and it's hard sometimes.
Seeing that you and him have an intimate relationship, this is one of the many things he'll learn about eventually, that is, if whatever you both have lasts beyond a certain point. This could provide him with an opportunity to learn about your hair and culture since he already appears to express an interest.
You evenly distributed the leave-in conditioner and used the detangling brush to pull your hair back. As a consequence, your arms started hurting. Detangling sometimes leaves you feeling defeated. You were nearly out of leave-in and you're grateful that you had just the right amount to get the job done.
He moved forward until there were merely inches between your bodies.
One of his brows arched upwards at the sight of the small brush and subsequently picked it up to examine it.
While it's obvious that he wouldn't understand the dynamics of black natural hair and how to manage it. For a man that's skilled in almost everything, this seems to be the exception.
You tilted your head up at him. "It's an edge brush. I use it to lay the hair down around my edges when I'm done."
He paused in his examination, regarding you for a moment before continuing in his examination.
As sophisticated as John is, something like this is certainly beyond his expertise. There's no need to place him on an unrealistic pedestal where he knows all. It's not fair.
Black hair is often seen as something to be gawked at and fixated on. Your hair is part of who you are. You'd switched up your hair quite a few times since you'd been acquainted with John. And it's already been taken into account that he doesn't possess an annoying fascination or desire to reach out and touch it. And for that you're grateful. Sometimes that would surely make the relationship dynamic weird. You like to think that he respects you too much to treat you like a petting zoo animal. If he turned out to be one of those people, you honestly don't know what you would do. You don't know how to feel about that and you're not inclined to linger on it for too long.
Admittedly, that what stuck with you the most, the man watched silently as you ran the brush through your hair. Paying close attention as the curly hair elongated and shrunk back up with each stroke.
Your heart started beating more erratically, stomach doing a few more flips.
When it was all done, it took you nearly three hours to finish and you just placed your hair in a low bun. You inspected your work in the mirror then moved on to show him how the edge brush worked.
Regardless, you look at it as a sweet bonding moment. He liked your hair no matter what state it was in. You certainly never thought you'd be teaching him about edge control, someone could quite literally sweep you up in a dust pan because you're so outdone for the day. Between your nosey mother not minding her business and this. The day couldn't get anymore bizarre than it already was.
It's comforting to be with someone who likes you just as much as you like them. You really need reassurance this time around. Taking a little break sounded nice before you could even think about getting dinner started.
"How would you feel if I dyed my hair blue?"
His expression didn't change one bit. "Do as you wish."
That was his general attitude, he allowed you to do whatever it is that you desired so long as it didn't go against his own wishes. With that thought in mind, the smile suddenly slipped from your face.
Despite not wanting to ruin the tranquility of the moment, there was still something lingering in your mind. Something you desperately needed an answer to.
"John...why didn't you want me to leave the house?"
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