A Painful Memory
#1 of Johnathan and Laura
I wanted to finally get down in writing the driving motivation behind the Johnathan character, and when I was sleep deprived, relieved of internet, stuck with an old ARM-based chromebook, and listening to Joji at 2:30 AM last night, I wrote this. I polished it up a bit today, and I'm glad I finished it and can get some of my work out there. I'm not too proud of the progression on this one as it seems really fast until suddenly slowing to a near standstill near the end, but that IS how Johnathan would remember it, right?
This story is SFW, lacking any significant sexual themes or content. However, it does contain themes of or references to loss, heartbreak, depression, and suicide. Read at your own risk.
"I don't want to start any blasphemous rumours
But I think that God's got a sick sense of humor and
When I die, I expect to find
Him laughing"
-Martin Gore of Depeche Mode, from Blasphemous Rumours
Johnathan could hardly contain his excitement as he rode the bus back into town. This was the first time he'd be on a break from duty long enough to return home. The fox knew without a doubt that Laura would be waiting at the bus stop for him. He was correct in this; she practically entered the bus herself to meet him getting off.
A tender kiss, a car ride home, and preparations were in order, for he was going to take her out to dinner. It's not often he was relieved of duty for a whole month, and God be damned if he wasn't going to start it on the right foot. And of course, he had other plans for that night as well.
It was the night he was going to propose.
Throughout their dinner, he found himself sweating profusely and absently fingering the ring in his pocket. Laura was too observant not to catch on to his heightened anxiety and asked him if he was alright. Not anticipating a much better opportunity, he chose to answer the question by presenting the ring.
The vixen was shocked for a moment, then ecstatic. "What are you, mad? Of course, I'll marry you!"
That night was possibly the best of both of their lives and was spent together. For the next few days, they were inseparable. So when Laura woke in the middle of the night, screaming in pain, his response was immediate. Within half an hour she was before a doctor. Not long after, the couple got the bad news: Laura was in the final stages of total kidney failure. She only had about a day to live, at best. The absence of symptoms leading up to this was purely an advent of bad luck as well; signs had been present but had been ignored by Laura when on her own and had been largely absent during the few days prior when they were together. In shock, Johnathan remembered that they shared a blood type, which meant they were eligible to receive each other's organs. Within three hours, he was in the operating room having his left kidney removed to be given to his love.
When she received the kidney, all seemed to be going well. She was only a few hours away from being discharged when her symptoms returned, however. Analysis revealed that Johnathan's left kidney had been exceptionally weakened from injuries he had received in combat combined with an old drinking habit, and it couldn't stand up to the stress of operating alone. Without any other options, Laura passed away within a few days.
For the first day, all Johnathan wanted to do was sleep. He was still in denial; it couldn't have actually happened. And he was still too lucky. Maybe if he would get drunk enough and go to sleep, he would wake up and it would be better...
The second day, he woke up, head throbbing, to rediscover his cold reality. After a few minutes of quiet contemplation, he slowly and almost without realizing it grabbed his pistol, knowing full well what he intended to do with it. He grabbed a partially loaded magazine; he only needed one round. A click and a pull later, and it was primed. With steady paws, he raised the handgun, pointing in the sole direction one should never point a firearm, and steeled himself when the doorbell rang. With a slow lethargy, he put the gun down and trudged to the door. Outside was his commanding officer, who told him that news had reached him and he personally wanted to come by and give his condolences, as well as offer as much time off duty as Johnathan needed. In response, he simply handed his badge over. He was never going back.
When he returned to his bedroom, he looked at the loaded gun and shook himself. It's not what she would've wanted, he realized. He silently berated himself as he unloaded the gun. He sat back down on the bed, defeated. The fox looked around the room. It hadn't changed much when he was away. The flowers he brought home were sitting on the dresser right next to the framed photograph of him and Laura, taken the day he left. He was already wearing the uniform that Laura always said she found attractive on him, despite his opinion that it made his head look like a road cone. The both of them were smiling and laughing with each other as they enjoyed what would be their last moments together for some time to come. He had always been struck by her beauty in this photo, and he was pleased to see she had framed it. He gently pulled his own tattered print out of his jacket and ran a finger through the well-worn crease lines.
A tear dropped to the paper.