John's smile fades at that, something in his chest sinking a little at being...seen. It's something he wanted for so long, to be seen and acknowledged and understood--to find help.

He knows better now, though. There's no help, and to invite that--invite anyone to get too close...it's just going to get them killed.

...he wishes he could be blind to the rest of it. That rejecting her the way he wants to would be unkind in its own way. He just doesn't know where the middle ground is: to not let go of that last shred of something that belongs to him without letting other people get hurt.

Maybe he should just give it up. Just let it go.

John's gaze drops, and he hates himself for the selfish way he clings tighter to that scrap of personhood he has left.

"...I shouldn't." he admits softly. "People get hurt when I do. When I let them get too--invested."