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Summary
It’s not Jere. How could it be when Jere himself is looking at him? But calling him John feels… wrong. John isn’t a person. It’s a costume. An easy way to refer to himself in a wig so people don’t get confused.
And yet this feels like a person. One inexplicably with his face, his body, his likeness in every sense save for the long blonde hair framing his face, yes, but a person nonetheless. His shoulders rise and fall gently beneath the soft fabric of his blazer, eyes flickering up and down his body as he stands frozen in the doorway like a predator sizing up prey. Somehow he’s real. Physical. Alive.--
In which Jere finds something that isn't quite himself.
