Jack swallows, forcing his eyes to stay open--stay on John--because as much as he doesn't want John to see the demons he knows have to still be lurking in his gaze, he wants to be in the dark with those same demons even less. It takes way more effort than it should to get one of his hands to move, to wrap his fingers around John's wrist and cling to him, the familiar sensation of holding someone putting at least some solid ground under his feet.

"Trying," he manages, and enough of him has come back to be properly put off by the waver in his voice he can't shake off. "Hasn't--been this hard in a long time." And there should be some part of him trying to make a joke right there, he knows that. The best he can manage though is turning his head slightly to brush his lips against John's palm, which is at least enough to turn the tension in his chest that had been threatening to become a sob into a shuddering breath.