Chapter Text
Homelander—John to those few who dared claim closeness—steps into the sanctuary of his penthouse. The night outside is stormy, streaks of lightning illuminating his pristine white floors. As he closes the door, he’s met by the soft padding of paws.
Nala, the elegant Bengal, brushes against his leg first, her golden coat shimmering even under artificial light. Mimi follows, slightly smaller but no less demanding, her wide green eyes fixed on him. Bear, the Tibetan Mastiff, bounds over with his deep, rumbling bark, his massive frame dwarfing the sleek cats. The familiarity of this routine is grounding, though John’s jaw tightens as he leans down to greet his pets. Their innocence stirs something tender in him, but tonight his mood is a tangled mess of frustration and heartbreak.
The fight with William—Will—still claws at his insides. He can’t shake the sharpness of their words. Will had pushed, as he always does, prodding at John’s insecurities with a precision that left him raw. Why does he always have to be right?
“Not now,” John murmurs under his breath, shaking the thoughts away. He straightens and heads towards his closet, shedding his layers systematically. First, his cape—meticulously folded. Then his suit, and dress shoes. Each piece is discarded with the obsessive care of a man who needs order to combat inner chaos.
His pets follow him into the kitchen, their footsteps echoing softly. John moves with the precision of someone who thrives on structure, pulling out ingredients for dinner: chicken for Bear, salmon for the cats, and a simple pasta for himself. His movements are mechanical, but his mind is elsewhere, replaying the fight.
“You’re a goddamn control freak, John. That’s your problem,” Will’s words linger, a mocking ghost in his mind.
He grabs a knife from the pristine holder and begins slicing with practiced efficiency. The sound of the blade on the cutting board is almost meditative. The cats meow impatiently, and Bear sits obediently, tail swishing, his dark eyes full of understanding—or so John likes to believe.
“Not my fault you’re a reckless bastard,” John mutters, imagining Will’s face. He grips the knife tighter. A part of him wants to call, to make it right. But another part, the part still smarting from Will’s biting words, holds him back.
As he places the bowls down for his pets, his shoulders finally relax a fraction. Watching them eat, so content and oblivious to the chaos in his heart, John feels a pang of envy. They don’t care about the fights or the secrets. To them, he’s just John—provider, protector, and occasional cuddle-giver.
He picks at his own dinner later, his appetite dulled by the weight in his chest. Despite the turmoil, the orderliness of his home and the quiet companionship of his pets ease him, if only slightly. For now, he lets himself exist in this fragile calm, trying to push Will’s piercing blue gaze from his mind.
Tomorrow, maybe, he’ll call.
John sinks into his perfectly fluffed armchair, a glass of chilled sparkling water resting on the table beside him. He reaches for his Kindle, desperate for the escape his current novel offers—a steamy romance full of longing and misunderstandings, an ironic balm for his turbulent relationship with Will. But his fingers meet empty space.
He freezes, his immaculate brows furrowing. The Kindle isn’t where it should be. It’s not on the side table, not on the bookshelf, not…
Dammit.
John’s stomach drops as the memory clicks into place. The Kindle is at Will’s apartment, left on the nightstand during their sleepover. He had been so distracted this morning, tiptoeing around Will’s grumpy mood, that he forgot to grab it. Now it sits there, mocking him from miles away.
He leans back in the chair, rubbing his temples. Going back would mean facing Will after the fight. And Will… Will would make it a thing. He could already picture the smug, teasing grin.
“Oh, you came crawling back, did ya, Johnny-boy? Couldn’t stay away, eh?”
John’s jaw tightens at the imagined taunt. But on the other hand… It’s my Kindle. My property. He doesn’t get to keep it just because we argued.
The room feels suffocating. He tries to distract himself, picking up his phone and scrolling aimlessly, but nothing sticks. The half-finished romance novel calls to him, the unresolved tension between the leads pulling at his own restless heart.
Bear pads over, resting his massive head on John’s lap. The cats have curled up on the sofa, indifferent to his turmoil. He strokes Bear absently, his mind still racing.
Do I text him? No, that gives him power.
Do I just show up? No, that’s… desperate.
He groans, leaning forward to bury his face in his hands. This was supposed to be a relaxing evening—just him, his pets, and his book. Instead, he’s stuck in this limbo, the echoes of their fight refusing to leave him alone.
After a moment, he stands abruptly, pacing. “It’s just a Kindle,” he mutters to himself. “I’ll buy another one.”
But he knows it’s not about the Kindle. It’s about Will. About the fight. About the nagging desire to see him, even if it’s just under the pretense of retrieving his belongings.
John sighs, dragging a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair. He glances at the clock, debating.
In the end, he decides to wait. Let Will stew a little. Tomorrow, he’ll go. Maybe.
For now, he grabs one of his meticulously organized paperbacks from the shelf—an old favorite—and settles back into his chair. It’s not the same, but it’ll have to do.
John stares at the paperback in his hand, flipping through the pages without absorbing a single word. His eyes dart to his phone on the coffee table. The Kindle’s absence gnaws at him, but more than that, the silence between him and Will feels unbearable.
Bear, sensing his restlessness, lets out a soft huff from his spot near the armchair. John sighs, leaning forward and grabbing the phone before he can overthink it. His finger hovers over Will’s contact for a moment before he presses the call button.
The line rings twice before Will picks up, his gruff voice cutting through the tension.
“What d’ya want, Homelander?”
John doesn’t let him finish. “Is my Kindle at your place?” His voice is sharp, clipped.
A pause. “Yeah, it’s—”
“I’m coming to get it,” John interrupts, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’m bringing Bear.”
He hangs up before Will can respond, tossing the phone back onto the table with more force than necessary. His heart is pounding, though he tells himself it’s just the adrenaline of taking action.
“Bear,” he calls, grabbing the Mastiff’s leash from the hook by the door. The massive dog perks up immediately, bounding over with an excited wag of his tail.
John crouches down, scratching Bear behind the ears. “We’re going on a little trip, buddy,” he murmurs, his voice softening for the first time all evening. “Don’t let him get to me, okay?”
Bear tilts his head, his big brown eyes full of unspoken loyalty. John takes a deep breath, standing up and adjusting his perfectly pressed shirt.
This wasn’t about Will. It wasn’t about the fight. It was about his Kindle. At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself as he heads out the door.
The moment the buzzer clicked, John steeled himself, forcing a deep breath. His nerves were frayed, but he shoved the feeling deep down, where it couldn’t show. Will couldn’t know—not tonight.
As he stepped into the building and headed up the elevator, he rehearsed his plan: get in, grab the Kindle, get out. No snide remarks. No lingering. Just clean and simple.
When the elevator doors opened, John made his way to Will’s apartment, his steps measured and deliberate. He knocked once, sharp and precise.
The door swung open, and there was Will, leaning against the doorframe, his expression the perfect blend of curiosity and mischief. Before he could say anything, Bear bounded forward, tail wagging furiously, barking with excitement at the sight of Will.
“Well, hey there, big guy!” Will crouched to greet Bear, scratching behind his ears and laughing as the massive dog jumped up to lick his face.
John didn’t say a word. He walked right past them, His eyes locked onto the Kindle sitting on the coffee table, and he made a beeline for it.
Will stood, still grinning as he wiped Bear’s drool off his cheek. “Nice to see you, too, John,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
John ignored him, scooping up the Kindle and clutching it tightly in his hand. He turned on his heel, heading straight for the door without looking back.
“Oi,” Will called after him, his grin fading. “You’re just gonna grab it and leave? Not even a hello?”
John hesitated, his hand hovering over the doorknob. His shoulders tensed, but he didn’t turn around. “I said I was here for the Kindle. Now I have it. Goodbye, Will.”
Bear let out a small whine, looking between John and Will like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to be.
Will straightened, folding his arms over his chest. “That’s it, then? No snarky comeback? No grand speech about how I’m the bloody worst?”
John’s jaw clenched. He turned just enough to meet Will’s gaze, his expression cold and controlled. “Not tonight.”
Will’s smirk faltered, his eyes narrowing as he studied John. “What’s your deal? You’re quieter than usual. Did I break you or somethin’?”
John’s grip tightened on the Kindle, but he didn’t take the bait. “Goodbye, Will,” he repeated, his voice sharp.
He opened the door, and Bear trotted obediently after him, though the dog paused to look back at Will one last time, wagging his tail.
As the door shut behind him, John let out a shaky breath. His carefully constructed facade was already starting to crack, but he forced himself to keep walking. Just get home, he told himself. Don’t let him get to you.
But as he stepped back into the elevator, Bear sitting dutifully at his side, John couldn’t help but feel the weight of Will’s eyes on him, even after he’d left.
As John stepped out of the elevator and into the dimly lit hallway, the weight of Will’s words lingered in the air, heavy and suffocating. He could still hear Will’s voice, sharp and cutting, even as the door to his apartment closed behind him.
“What’s your deal? Did I break you or somethin’?”
John clenched his jaw as he walked down the hallway, his grip tightening on the Kindle. His footsteps were steady, but his mind was anything but.
Did I break you?
The question looped in his head, over and over, like a broken record. Did I? He wanted to deny it, wanted to pretend it didn’t matter. But somewhere, deep down, the answer hurt too much.
He thought back to their fight, the way Will had challenged him, poking at all the things he tried so hard to keep hidden. The control. The need to have everything in its place. Will had known exactly how to needle him, how to make him feel small.
You’re a bloody control freak, John. Always need things your way. God forbid anyone gets close without followin’ your damn rulebook.
Will’s words echoed in his mind, sharp and stinging. Am I? John thought, swallowing hard. Is that who I am?
The more he tried to push it down, the worse it felt. His chest tightened as he walked, each step heavier than the last. He had always prided himself on being in control, of keeping his life, his emotions, neatly ordered. But Will had ripped through all of that with a few careless words.
John’s phone buzzed in his pocket, interrupting his spiraling thoughts. He fumbled to pull it out, his heart sinking when he saw the name on the screen—Will.
He stared at it for a moment, wondering if he should answer, but then he just… couldn’t. He couldn’t face another round of their back-and-forth. Not tonight.
Instead, he silenced the call and stuffed the phone back into his pocket.
His mind wandered back to the apartment, to Will’s face—the way it had shifted from playful teasing to something more serious when he asked if John had been broken. Did I break you?
God, I hope not.
John’s hands were shaking slightly now, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him with every step. The city around him seemed to blur as he walked, the streetlights casting long shadows on the pavement.
His mind kept going back to Will—his raw, unfiltered words, the way they’d felt like punches to the gut. And then the hurt in Will’s voice, like it mattered more than just the argument.
John swallowed hard again, trying to push back the knot in his throat. He couldn’t let Will see this. He couldn’t let Will know just how much it hurt, how much he hurt.
He let out a slow breath as he turned the corner to his apartment building. It was a small comfort, but it was his. At least in his space, he could breathe. At least in his apartment, there were no reminders of the chaos he couldn’t control.
But as he walked inside and Bear padded at his side, he knew this wouldn’t be over. Not until he figured out how to face Will—face the truth of what was going on between them. And what happens when I can’t control what I feel?
For the first time in a long time, John didn’t have the answer.
As John stepped through the front door, his carefully constructed mask shattered the moment the lock clicked shut behind him. The tension in his chest finally broke free, crashing over him in a tidal wave. He dropped the leash, letting Bear trot off into the apartment, oblivious to his turmoil.
John leaned back against the door, his breathing shallow and erratic, his hand gripping the Kindle so tightly his knuckles turned white. He tried to steady himself, tried to cling to the control that usually anchored him, but it was slipping away too fast.
When he finally lifted his eyes, they met his reflection in the mirror by the entrance.
The sight hit him like a physical blow.
There he was—Homelander. Not John, but the version of himself he feared the most: cold, calculating, ruthless. The figure in the mirror stared back at him with piercing, unfeeling eyes, his expression twisting into a cruel, knowing smirk.
“Look at you,” the reflection sneered, his voice venomous and low. “The mighty Homelander, reduced to this. Crying over some meaningless words from him. Pathetic.”
John stumbled back, his hand shooting out to steady himself against the wall. “No,” he whispered, shaking his head. “You’re not real. You’re not—”
“Not real?” the reflection interrupted, laughing mockingly. “Oh, but I am. I’m the only part of you that’s ever been real. John is the lie, the mask you wear to feel human. But we both know the truth, don’t we? You’re nothing without me. Weak. Broken.”
John clutched his head, his nails digging into his scalp as the words cut through him like a knife. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the image, but he could still feel its presence, looming and inescapable.
“He doesn’t love you, you know,” the voice continued, dripping with malice. “He tolerates you. Pities you, maybe. But love? No one could love this.”
“Shut up,” John hissed, his voice breaking. “You don’t know anything.”
The reflection tilted its head, its smirk widening. “Oh, but I do. You saw it in his eyes tonight, didn’t you? The doubt. The disgust. He’s only waiting for the right moment to leave. Just like everyone else.”
John’s knees buckled, and he sank to the floor, his back pressed against the door. His breaths came in shallow gasps as tears streamed down his face, hot and relentless. The weight of the words crushed him, threatening to suffocate him entirely.
Bear padded over, his big, warm body pressing against John’s side. The dog let out a soft whine, nuzzling his head against John’s shoulder.
“I’m fine,” John murmured, his voice barely audible. He reached out to stroke Bear’s fur, grounding himself in the sensation. But the reflection in the mirror remained, watching him with unrelenting disdain.
“You’ll never be fine, Johnny-boy. Not until you accept what you really are.”
John looked up, his tear-streaked face contorted with anger and despair. “And what’s that?” he spat.
The reflection leaned closer, its eyes gleaming with a terrible intensity. “Alone.”
The word echoed in his mind, reverberating through the silence of the room. John closed his eyes, clutching Bear’s fur like a lifeline.
“No,” he whispered, barely holding himself together. “I’m not alone.”
But even as he said it, the doubt lingered, pulling him deeper into the spiral.
John pulled himself off the floor, his legs shaky but determined. His breath hitched as he wiped his face with trembling hands, trying to push the heaviness in his chest back down. Without thinking, he started stripping away his clothes. The tie, the suit jacket, the shirt—each layer peeled away felt like a weight lifted, as if shedding his skin might help him escape the turmoil swirling inside.
By the time he reached the stairs, he was down to just his boxers, his bare feet cold against the wooden steps. His movements were robotic, his mind numb as he climbed toward the sanctuary of his bedroom.
Bear followed him closely, his soft, warm presence a quiet reassurance. Nala and Mimi were already upstairs, curled up on the bed when John pushed the door open. The two Bengal cats perked up at the sight of him, their glowing green eyes watching him intently.
John stepped inside, letting Bear trot in behind him before shutting the door softly. The room was dark except for the faint glow of the city lights filtering through the curtains. It felt quieter here, calmer.
He crossed the room, pulling back the comforter and slipping into bed. The cool sheets pressed against his skin as he lay down, his head sinking into the pillow. Nala was the first to move, stretching lazily before climbing onto his chest, her soft purrs vibrating against him. Mimi settled at his side, curling up by his arm, while Bear lay sprawled at the foot of the bed, his large body taking up most of the space.
For a moment, John didn’t move. He stared at the ceiling, his mind still swirling with fragments of Will’s voice and his reflection’s taunts. The silence of the room felt heavy but not unbearable.
His Kindle lay on the nightstand, untouched. He reached for it, his hand hovering for a second before pulling back. He didn’t have the energy to read, not tonight. Instead, he just lay there, surrounded by the warmth of his pets, his breaths slowly evening out as their presence anchored him.
The ache in his chest was still there, but it felt less suffocating now. With Nala’s steady purring and Bear’s soft snores filling the room, John let his eyes close. For now, he could just be still.