We stop, or more accurately, John stops and I stop and watch him. He looks across the river bank, his eyebrows lowering. I don’t like the look on his face, but I can’t bring myself to look over to where he was looking. What if it was true? What if it was him?

“We should keep moving,” he says sparsely.

“What is it?” I croak.

“There’s someone on the other side, Leo.” I suck in a breath in what I hope is a silent reprieve.

Someone on the other side. Someone on the other side. Someone on the other side. Someone on the other side. Someone on the other-

“It doesn’t mean that it’s him, it could be anyone. But we still need to be cautious.” John cuts me off with a hand on my shoulder.

Finally, I take a glance across the river, seeing a darkened figure from the low light of the dusk setting in. There are no discernible features or clothing from where we’re standing calf deep in the river. It feels inextricably strange to not recognize if it was him or not, even from this distance. I thought I would always be able to recognize him from any distance.

We keep going forward through the river at a crawling pace, the figure never once moving. John hasn’t taken his eyes off them since we started walking again. My heart squeezes at the sight. I know that if it is him, there is no chance that John will let him go. A part of me wishes that it is, just so I could see John choke the life out of him. The other part is terrified of seeing his face again after everything he’s done to me.

As we approach the middle of the river I start to see the outline of him. It’s HIM. He’s standing there unmoving, still too far to see his facial features. But I know it’s him. Now that I can actually see his shape, I know that it’s his body. Horror fills me as we step closer, and I fight the memories of him. I wish I could just forget. I wish that this didn’t break me as much as it does.

“It’s him.” I say, stilling in the river.

“Are you sure?”

“I wish I wasn’t.” I try to focus on the feeling of the river’s current flowing around my calves.

John starts walking forward again, at a faster and more aggressive pace. I stand still for a moment before starting to put my foot in front of the other.

“Wait here Leo, I’ll take care of this.” I didn’t miss the way he said ‘this’ instead of ‘him’.

“Wait John,” I say, grabbing him by the wrist to stop him from continuing. He looks back at me, green eyes hard and cautious.

“Be careful, please.”

John’s face splits into a confident grin, his dimples appearing. The sight of it warms me a bit from the cold shock of seeing my captor once again. I don’t want to let go of his wrist, I don’t want him to go over there and face him.

“I will, handsome.” He says cheerfully, wrapping his hand around mine and squeezing.

John turns and heads forwards, only to find that he’s gone. We both stare in shock at the empty riverbank. John looks back at me, his eyes guilty. I squeeze his hand in mine, trying to be reassuring. I know what he’s thinking. He turns his head away from me and down in a defeated gesture.

“Leo, I’m s-“

“Don’t, don’t say sorry. You don’t need to be sorry.” I say, staring directly into his eyes. John just nods, and his face tells the truth even if he doesn’t. He looks crushed.

“We need to go find a shelter. Even if he’s not.. here.. we know he’s nearby.” I don’t trust myself to sound steady, so I follow John’s lead and nod.

“We need to be careful now, especially because it’s dark. When we set up camp we sleep in shifts so someone is always watching. If you ever think he’s there, you wake me up.” He continues, thankfully. I nod again.

“It’s gonna be okay Leo, I won’t let him get near you.” John’s hand squeezes mine, and I feel my ears burning. I squeeze his hand back, still not trusting my words.

John would do anything to protect me, he’s proven that. He has risked his life for mine, many times already. I think it’s because I’m someone weaker and more vulnerable than him, and he feels obligated to protect me. But sometimes I wonder if he feels more for me now. Sometimes I hope he does. I don’t have the courage to ask him. I don’t want to mess things up between us or make him feel uncomfortable, I don’t even know if he likes guys. He says things, and I catch him looking at me sometimes, but that’s the extent of it. I’m so grateful he’s even helping me, without him I would’ve been dead a while ago. I don’t want to make things weird.

“I know John, thank you.” I finally squeak out, after we continue walking and make it through to the riverbank where he was standing before. He just smiles and nods his head at me.

We keep going forward, John never letting go of my hand, only entwining our fingers. I feel the warmth of my cheeks reddening, and hope he doesn’t notice.