Author's Note: Ah, angsty John goodness. Remember to review.
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For a long time after the door had slammed, John had stood very still. Chas loved him... Chas loved him. And now he was angry at him, now he thought John didn't want him.
What if Chas decided to go to Heaven? What if John never got a chance to talk to him?
There was nothing else to do. He hadn't been out in a long time, but he loved Chas. He couldn't risk losing him. Outside, the sky roared threateningly. John breathed out slowly.
Then he was moving quickly, snatching his long black coat up and slipping into it, feeling strange wearing it after so long. He ran to the bathroom, snatching a razorblade, just in case he had to get Chas to come to him. Then he headed for the door, panting.
"God, I know I'm not one of your favourite children," he muttered, "but I'd really appreciate some help on this one."
And then there was a flash of lightning. John didn't know if this was a good or a bad omen but he had no time to think on it. He ran.
As he stumbled into the street, cold wind lashed around him. Rain stuck his hair to his face. He gasped, pulling his jacket around him, looking for Chas but seeing no sign of him.
"Fuck, Chas," he muttered, starting to run again.
It was lucky the weather was so bad. If it had been fine, many people may have seen a tall, mysterious, dark man running up the street, shouting loudly for 'Chas'. As it was, however, the place was pretty much deserted.
And still there was no sign of Chas.
"Chas!" John shouted, coming to a pause to catch his breath. Tears mingled with the rain on his face. "Fuck, Chas, come back..." Then his legs gave way. Then his shoulders began to shake.
The great John Constantine, the great fucking John Constantine, on his knees, was sobbing.