#ive learned about the exchanging of dogtags a couple years back and its something that has stuck with me sense

[berniecranes]

xxxi. thing you carry everywhere

Wrote this on the day of the prompt, but was a little hesitant to post it here. But I still really like it and feel like sharing it. Especially since I'm not writing much right now, as not being the biggest fan of February's prompts

It was weird to actually be in his room again. In his genuine house. Not anything trying to act as it, he was actually stateside. He couldn't quite say it felt as if he never left; but he certainly tried to force that feeling. Hoping it would come genuinely and naturally soon. John laid in bed, his arm cradling his head. It had to be his left, as he can't leave his right hand scrunched up for so long. It'll begin to feel heavy, and feel hard to move, cramping up. His hand doesn't fully stop on him anymore, but he'll always have to adjust how he does things all because of that goddamn hand. He slipped his lit cigarette into his mouth so he could run his fingers across his clothed chest. He didn't need to see the scar under his t-shirt to know it's there. He knows right where it begins and where it ends. He's at least somewhat thankful this one doesn't bother him nearly as bad as his hand. This one only brings anger and hints of shame when he's shirtless, looking down at himself. He feels like a fool for trusting someone as much as he trusted Aldridge. He told himself to not do that again, to never put more faith in someone than you put in yourself. But there he went. Only took a couple years and he became that fool all over again.

But this time it was different. He knew that's easier said, but he truly believed it this time. Aldridge left him with wounds that will never heal. Left him with pain that will never heal; whether that's when his hand twitched at the heat or when holding a gun. When the part of his scar that is still rose for some reason becomes angry and it feels like thorns across his hand. Or when it's nights like this. He can't sleep because too many thoughts are circling. But Lincoln, he couldn't have been anymore different. John sat up from his bed, resting his cigarette in his ashtray after taking a long drag. He pulled open the bottom drawer of his night stand, where he shoved some stuff away when he got home. Gently, he picked up the chain with two tags dangling from it. He looked at the first one. It had his name and number on it. This one was all his, but then he put his focus on the lower one, hanging on by the smaller chain. This one wasn't his, it was Lincoln's. He still remembers the night they exchanged them.

It was the night before they were going to make an aggressive move. One that left you a little jittery about what could go wrong. It was just the two of them. Lincoln for once seemed a little nervous of what was to come. This was unlike him. John had his reservations as well, but he showed them more frequently; never too scared, as it was shown more through caution and over compensation, a sort of cockiness. But he felt just as vulnerable as Lincoln was in the moment. Lincoln slowly brought his hand up to his dogtags and undid the lower hanging one, John watched in silence, his chest moving up and down with every breath and exhale. Lincoln clipped it onto John's tags. John began to do the same. John never knew what military shit he didn't know about, as that wasn't necessarily his field. But at this moment, it all made sense.

'At least we'll both make it out.' Lincoln said tenderly. His voice having a sense of airiness John only rarely heard.

'I've never seen you like this. You're starting to scare me now.' John exhaled. 'We'll both make it out, walking right next to each other. Not whatever this is.'

'I know.'

John swallowed hard, and put his hand on top of Lincoln's. Lincoln twisted his hand to be palm up, and let his thumb gently caress John's skin.

John ran his own thumb over Lincoln's tag. It was late, and he had no light on. He couldn't read what it said but he could feel the indent of the words. He hopes he's adjusting nicely to being home. Lincoln deserved to get a break for once. He actually was a man with code and carried his own honor. John truly wasn't sure if their paths would ever cross again in the real world, but he knew Lincoln wasn't leaving his thoughts anytime soon.

#ive learned about the exchanging of dogtags a couple years back and its something that has stuck with me sense #i think there is something so intimate about wanting to carry the tag of the person you love/care abt (and him doing the same) #as a way to metaphorically keeps them around in case anything bad happens and they may not make it out #seeing its done more or less in the moment where fear could be at its highest #it really stuck with me and I think would be such a silent yet tender act of Lincoln's doing and really special #🗓✏️ #mafia (game) — #m3 etc #also this is a little far off from the prompt; its the feelings john carries with him not the object if that makes sense #which is why Aldridge is also brought up here #also youll be able to figure out but in the tags meant ***since not sense and keep not keeps whateva! #edited this slightly from the one posted on my other blog just for a lil more smoothness but idk sksksksk