John is coming.
I walked into the old bar,the one Dean and I had visited so many times before. Those times were now only memories, but they lived in the walls. The creak of the floorboards, the scent of old wood and citrus cleaner, the way the light hit the bar at this hour,it all whispered his name.
The deep, dark colors of the gilded wooden countertop looked majestic under the glow of the radiant lighting that enveloped the display of expensive liquor and exotic drinks. But tonight, it looked like a stage that had lost its actors. Beautiful, but empty.
I took my seat and looked out into the crowd of the night, my heart skipping as I scanned for him,even though I told myself not to. Even though I knew better.
I was not ready to see him with anyone else.
It was selfish.
It was pathetic.
It was true.
No matter how much I rehearsed it in my head,the possible pain, the imagined indifference, the version of him with someone new,I wasn’t ready. My heart simply couldn't take it.
So I searched anyway. Looked for him in the faces of strangers. Hoped,then hated myself for hoping. Because the truth was simple and cruel: there was no one else for me. No one who could fill the space he once filled just by smiling at me. No one who could speak my name the way he did, like it meant something.
Others had tried. God, they had tried.
They touched, flirted, pretended.
But none of them could reach me,not really.
Because my body might have moved on, but my heart was still with Dean.
The first night I met him, he was standing just over there, near the door. It had been raining out. We had all rushed in to stay dry, yet none of us were willing to leave and miss out on finding that one person to connect with, spend the night with,or, if we were oh so lucky, someone to make a life with.
He was that person.
Not just for the night.
For me, he became the life.
I couldn’t help but smile to myself as I recalled how Dean walked over and introduced himself.
“Hi. You look so amazing,do you mind if I buy you a drink?”
His smile was framed by his gorgeous, sharp face. His eyes burned into me, and I smiled and said, “Yes,” as I felt the fire he had ignited in me take hold.
He was nervous, but as we started talking and laughing, his hands lost their shiver. He placed a hand on my neck, then later on my waist, as he enveloped me in an energy that only I could see. His smile was confident now, but he never lost the care and warmth in his voice as he charmed me the whole night.
Mike made the last call.
“Last call, guys! Let’s go!” he hollered as the last of us in the bar made our final orders.
We laughed and shared way more than I would ever share with anyone before or after him. We grabbed some coffee before leaving,otherwise, Mike wouldn’t have let us out the door.
He held my hand as he led me to my car, our fingers brushing like a secret being shared.
“Can I see you again?” he asked.
Only then did his confidence slip,the easy charm in his voice replaced by something raw, almost boyish. His eyes searched mine, filled with hope so pure it cracked something open in me.
“Yes,” I whispered as I stepped into his arms.
He wasted no time, pulling me close to his chest, holding me like he had finally found something he didn’t want to lose. His scent,that clean, warm, sun-on-skin scent,wrapped around me, intoxicating.
I kissed his neck, just beneath his jaw, and felt him catch his breath,but he didn’t let go. He held me tighter, as if afraid I might disappear.
“I would love to see you again,” I whispered against his skin.
His body reacted instinctively, his desire pressing gently against me. But Dean was a gentleman. He didn’t move hastily or take advantage. He simply breathed me in, then slowly,almost painfully,let me go. His eyes never left mine, wide and full of awe, as if he couldn’t believe I was real.
That hunger passed between us like static,alive, electric, unsaid but deeply known. I wanted to stay in that moment forever. But I stepped back, just one small step. I had to. If I didn’t, we’d give in too quickly, and I wasn’t ready to risk breaking the spell.
Dean followed, not closing the distance but leaning into it.
“Tomorrow,” he said softly. “Coffee?”
His voice was a melody,familiar already, like a song I hadn’t realized I’d always known.
“Yes,” I nodded, smiling as I took another step back, the distance between us now not rejection but a promise.
He watched me go as if he were afraid to blink.
We started dating that night, he would later tell me.
Not the next day. Not the first kiss.
No,right there, in the soft hush after the rain, under a flickering streetlight and the quiet pull of two hearts stepping into a dream.
“John?”
The sound of my name pulled me out of the past like a hook in the chest. I blinked, suddenly aware of the hum of voices, the soft clink of glasses, the dim haze of the bar that had become a shrine to memory. My eyes were on the brink of spilling over.
“Mike?” I croaked, my voice brittle from disuse,or maybe just emotion. He crossed the room quickly and wrapped his arms around me.
He was still young. Still beautiful in that golden, easy way that made people turn to look when he passed. But now, that beauty had lines of concern carved through it, his energy dimmed by something heavier.
“Man, I’m so glad you’re back,” he whispered into my shoulder.
I pulled away just enough to see his face, but not enough to let go.
His eyes were searching mine, then dropped, almost ashamed. “Can you please look into Dean?”
I opened my mouth to protest,instinctively, defensively. But he cut me off, his voice quieter this time, edged in helplessness.
“Dean hasn’t been himself since you left.”
And just like that, my heart sank to the floor.
No words. Just the rush of air being sucked from the room.
A silent, crushing collapse inside me.
Of course he hadn’t been.
Because neither had I.
Because something like what we had,whatever name you gave it,doesn’t go away.
It doesn’t get replaced.
It doesn’t “heal.”
It haunts.
And now, here was Mike,beautiful, brave Mike,asking me to walk back into that haunted house like I hadn’t burned down with it.
“Get me a fucking drink, Mike!”
The voice cracked through the air like a slap. My skin prickled. Reality returned all at once,sharp, loud, sour.
I turned.
A kid,barely of age, all attitude and desperation,stumbled toward the bar, eyes red, shirt untucked, ego puffed with intoxicated bravado. He was rude. Drunk. And yes... wasted.
“Nathan,” Mike barked, his voice, no longer soft with concern, snapped like a whip. “What the fuck did I tell you about coming here high as a kite?”
The bouncer, who had been posted silently at the end of the floor, shifted. He was massive, still as a stone but already in motion behind his eyes,a predator reading the room like a hawk from a tree line. His gaze locked onto Nathan like he already knew how this would go.
“Just one for the road,” Nathan slurred, nearly falling onto the barstool. His hands trembled. His jaw clenched and unclenched as if trying to hold back something that wasn’t words. He looked... wrecked.
He reeked of weed, cheap cologne, and something fouler,shame, maybe. Desperation masked in sweat.
But beneath the chaos, I saw it: the tremor in his fingers wasn’t just from the drugs. There was pain there. Deep, shaking pain.
So before the bouncer could step in and shut it all down, I raised a hand.
“Hey, Nathan,” I said calmly, “you from around here?”
His eyes flicked to me, confused by the question,maybe by the gentleness of it. He blinked hard and nodded.
“Yeah… I’ve had a rough night. I just need a drink,” he mumbled. It wasn’t just slurring,it was unraveling.
“Let’s have some coffee, you and I.”
He was about to protest,you could see it forming in his mouth,but then he caught the shadow of the bouncer moving closer. Nathan sobered up just enough to know he was out of moves.
“Yeah... sure. I need that,” he muttered.
Mike appeared with two cups, and placed them in front of us with quiet ceremony. I, of course, asked for cream and sugar,always a lady. He didn’t even flinch. Just smiled,not at the request, but at the memory. The old me. The laughing me. The one who used to sit right here glowing from Dean’s touch.
That version of me was gone.
But Mike... Mike remembered.
Nathan wrapped both hands around his cup like it was the only warmth left in the world. He looked haunted,a ghost still stuck in his own body.
“What’s going on? You look… honestly wasted,” I said, matter-of-factly,not cruel, just done pretending we weren’t in a mess.
Nathan looked up, and there was something behind his eyes,not just intoxication. It was grief. Anger. Shame. A storm held behind too-thin skin.
“It’s OK,” he said with a bitter laugh. “We’re perfect strangers. No one will ever know.”
And then… he told me.
All of it.
Dean. The drugs. The parties that never ended. The people,men, boys, anyone,cycling through like ghosts with names no one remembered. And Sam and Dave, of course. Always around, always pushing. Feeding the chaos like it was a fire they needed to keep burning.
I sat there, quiet, still,but inside I was unraveling. Every word Nathan said was a blade, and he didn’t even know what he was cutting.
Because while he told his story, while he smirked and shrugged and played it cool, he didn’t realize who I was. He didn’t know that Dean’s dream boy, the one Dean called for in the middle of his highs and his crashes, the one whose name he cried like a prayer,was sitting right across from him.
Me.
It took every bit of my humanity not to beat the living shit out of this kid. I clenched my jaw until it hurt, fists curled tight in my lap.
“You see?” I said, my voice low and shaking. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Nathan scoffed, drunk on bravado and spite.
“Yeah,calling out to his fucking dream boy,” he sneered, slumping back in his seat. “You should hear him. Every time he’s high. Whispering for some John like he’s gonna save him.”
I froze. My chest tightened.
My name.
He says it.
Nathan didn’t know. Not yet.
Only then did I realize the root of it all: Nathan wanted Dean. Not just for a night,not just to fuck,but to possess something he knew he’d never reach. He wanted to be the dream boy.
But he couldn’t compare. Not to me.
Not to what we were.
And then,sloppy, misreading the entire moment,Nathan made his move.
A hand grazing my knee. A smirk that thought it was sexy. A slow lean, like the drink in his hand gave him permission.
I didn’t flinch.
I turned cold.
Colder than I’d ever been.
The rejection came not in words, but in the look I gave him,sharp, deliberate, final. Like ice cracking across a frozen lake.
Nathan paused, blinking like a dog slapped too late. But he wasn’t smart enough to stop,just stunned.
I didn’t say a word. I didn’t need to.
I looked at the bouncer.
That was all it took.
The big man stepped forward with slow, practiced steps,calm, silent power. No threat needed. No voice raised. He reached down, took Nathan by the back of his shirt and the waistband of his jeans, and lifted him like a rag doll.
The entire bar held its breath.
And then,the door swung open, and we all gasped as the bouncer dropped Nathan flat on his ass outside.
Like trash taken out.
Like a storm passing.
I stared after him for a moment, then took a slow sip of my coffee, my hands still trembling. Nathan was gone, but what he’d left behind clung to me like smoke.
Dean was still out there.
Drowning.
“Mike!” I called out, my voice slicing through the lull that followed the chaos.
Mike came up quick, his brows furrowed, eyes full of questions. Still beautiful. Still loyal. Still mine in the way that only true friends ever are.
“Does the bar still close at 1 a.m. today?” I asked, already reaching for the fire inside me.
He paused for a second, reading something dangerous behind my calm. Then he nodded, slow and cautious.
“Yeah,” he said. “Still does.”
I’ll never forget the way he looked at me then,like he knew something was about to change.
“I’ll be out back waiting for you.”
I slid my coffee toward the end of the counter,unfinished, untouched. A symbol of what tonight could have been... and what it had become. Then I turned and walked out into the night, leaving Mike standing there, confused and blinking, his lips parting like he wanted to call me back,but didn’t.
Because even he felt it. The shift.
Outside, the air bit against my skin, cold and electric. I didn’t care.
The engine of my Jeep roared to life, and I gripped the wheel like it was a weapon.
It’s time we settle some scores.
Dean was lost in a spiral,shame, pills, empty sex, false friends. Drowning in a sea of cheap highs and lies whispered by men like Sam and Dave, who never wanted to see him happy… not really. Not unless it was on their terms.
But I saw it now.
Dean still loved me.
He called for me,my name, my memory, my shadow. He reached for me in the dark when the lights went out and the buzz wore off. He didn’t know I was already walking into this storm, ready to be his anchor,his vengeance.
Because I might only be 5’4”, but I’m the kind of man empires underestimate. And tonight? That ends. Dave once called me a “little king” in a spit-soaked rage after Dean chose me over him. But he was wrong.
I’m not a king. I’m the goddamn storm they never saw coming.
Hell hath no fury like a queen with receipts and a full tank of gas.
So call the liars. Call the dealers. Call the boys who think they own Dean’s soul —
Sam. Dave. All of them.
Let them know:
John is coming.
For Dean.
For truth.
For every last piece of the love they tried to ruin.
And nobody, nobody, who stands in my way will come out clean.
Sorry its taken so long but, life. I hope you enjoy this ... its always been a love story.... Working on the next chapter, cant wait to share it.
