Work Text:
John wakes up reaching for the empty space next to him in bed. The cool sheets under his hand serve as a painful reminder that he’s alone.
He has been for years.
Drawing his arm back, he rolls out of bed to get ready for the day. It’s the same every day for him: cigarette, shower, coffee then drive to work.
It’s not until he’s halfway to PEIP HQ does he remember the date: February 14th. Valentine’s Day.
His heart sinks in his chest. He always dreads the holiday, especially since Wiley enjoys making his life hell on this day. It’s always something different: acid green roses, chocolates arranged in the shape of a skull, a teddy bear with a knife stabbed through it. The list goes on.
Not to mention all of the ‘gifts’ include a visit from Wiley himself, crooning at John about how much he misses him, how he could still join him, it’s not too late, they can still be together.
John doesn’t want to admit how often he’s been tempted by such offers.
Parking in his designated spot outside of headquarters, John lets out a sigh in the safety of his car. Today won’t be any different from any other Valentine’s since Wilbur went through the portal. He just has to be ready for it.
When he makes it to his office, he takes a deep breath before opening the door. He stares into the room, frowning at the lack of anything awaiting him on his desk. He enters warily, eyes darting around for any signs Wiley has been here.
Everything seems normal. The papers on his desk are exactly where he left them. His awards and medals shine from their place on the wall. Everything looks pristine.
John feels unsettled.
He sits at his desk, fingers tapping against the wood. He begins opening drawers, expecting something to be tucked away for him to find. His search turns up fruitless. All he finds is his regular office supplies.
His heart threatens to beat out of his chest. He should be relieved. Why isn’t he happy about this?
He knows why.
Swallowing, he tries to work. Sorting through reports, assigning agents, and making calls. Several times, he leaves his office to go down to the labs. He pretends he doesn’t hope that Wiley will turn up while he’s gone.
He never does.
By the time the workday winds down, his entire body feels on the verge of flying apart. Nothing, not even a stupid green apple.
He shuts down his computer as he stubs out a cigarette. His throat feels tight. It shouldn’t bother him, he repeats to himself, it shouldn’t.
It does though.
Cursing, he stands from his desk, trying to ignore the burning behind his eyes. He walks out of the office, giving one last hopeful glance back.
Nothing.
He thought the torment hurt.
Being forgotten hurts worse.
He turns off the light, plunging the office into darkness, before closing the door behind him.