Author's Note: Thanks again to all readers and reviewers! Warning: it gets a little mushy here. Enjoy and review!
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John had one picture of Chas.
It was a black and white photo of the boy, one John had obtained when he was looking for more information on him before taking him under his wing. Even though, John reminded himself bitterly, he had always kept Chas just on the edge of his wing.
It was a close-up. Chas was a couple of years younger on it, smiling in a warm happy way. His hair was longer, hanging messily in his face. His eyes held so much life.
"Chas." John held it, sitting on his bed.
He had let the boy down. Chas had trusted John to look after him.
John had trusted himself.
The sun was setting outside. There were no tears left inside John. He just held the photo.
"I loved him?" John repeated Angela's last words quietly. "Of course I didn't... that's fucking wrong... it's fucking Chas, John." But something inside his head mocked him.
On the photo, Chas smiled up at him. There was no mocking in that smile, only the innocence John had taken away.
He was a fucking kid.
"If I'd loved him," he reasoned with his mind, "wouldn't I have fucking kissed him?"
John had wanted to badly kiss him before, he remembered, when he had been kissing Angela.
"No fucking way," he said hopelessly.
John Constantine didn't love people. It just didn't happen.
"Fuck." John understood what he felt and knew he was in too deep.
He raised the photo to his lips and gently kissed it.