“I appreciate what you did for me yesterday,” Chris quietly said, “standing up to Devon like that.” He wanted to hold Jonathan's hand, but the wrist wrap prevented him from doing so. Instead, he rested his head on Jonathan's shoulder. “He's scary.”
“He's insane,” Jonathan added, wrapping his arm around Chris. Chris relaxed under Jonathan's touch, and tried to sink deeper into Jonathan. “His parents sent him away to get help, though.”
“I hope nothing like that happens to me,” Chris hoarsely replied, fidgeting with his hands. Jonathan looked at him and furrowed his eyebrows.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
Chris stalled for a moment, tensing a little, then quickly said, “Uh... going crazy. I'd hate to be completely bonkers like that.”
“Why do you think you'd go crazy?” Jonathan, quite oblivious, laughed. He reached his hand up and gently stroked Chris's hair.
“Well, you never know,” Chris shrugged. “I mean, did you ever think Devon would go crazy like that?”
“Hmm, good point... I told him about us, by the way.” Chris lifted his head up and looked at Jonathan with scared eyes. Jonathan moved his arm down to Chris's back.
“Why would you do that?” Chris croaked. There was no anger in his voice, just fear, which both relieved and puzzled Jonathan.
“Because I trust him. And because he's gone now, anyway, so if he tells anyone, there's not much that'll be done about it.”
“Oh, well, I guess if you trust him, then he's all right...” Chris, defeated yet complacent, stared at Jonathan's bruised face. The purple hue around his eye was quite disheartening. “I love you, Jonathan,” Chris said, and before Jonathan could respond, he swiftly jumped onto his feet and held his hand out. “Come on.”
“Why?” Jonathan asked, but he grabbed Chris's hand anyway and stood up. Chris placed his wrist-wrapped hand on the small of Jonathan's back and pulled him forward.
“Because it's easier to do this standing up,” Chris whispered. He leaned his lips into Jonathan's, and stuck his free hand inside of Jonathan's jacket, resting it gently on the other boy's side. “I love you,” he breathed into Jonathan's ear.
“You already said that,” Jonathan replied with a soft laugh.
“Uh huh, and I could say it a thousand times more and I would still mean it,” Chris said. He took a big breath, then rattled off, “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,” ending it with a delicate kiss on Jonathan's cheek.
“That was nowhere near a thousand,” Jonathan said in a disappointed voice, though with a hint of jest.
“No, but it's still true.” Chris smiled wide, and he blushed a little as he continued, “And I'm... I'm a lot happier around you, Jonathan, did you know that? Because I feel like I can be myself.”
“Really?” Jonathan asked in honest disbelief. Chris lowered his eyebrows, waiting for Jonathan to clarify as to why he was skeptical. “I mean, I know I don't usually see you otherwise, but you don't seem all that different around everyone else.”
“Well, I don't know, I just feel like I have to act around other people.” Chris stared off for a brief moment, and Jonathan got the sense that Chris was struggling to say something. But Chris merely shook his head back to the present and said, “Whatever. Listen, Jonathan, you're being quite cheeky today.”
“Am I?” Jonathan antagonized Chris. But Jonathan hadn't given Chris enough credit, and Chris, knowing exactly that it was one of Jonathan's weaknesses, moved his hand to the middle of Jonathan's abdomen and circled his thumb around. Jonathan let out a stimulated gasp, and Chris grinned smugly.
“Yes. Now, less lip, more tongue.” Jonathan began to laugh, but didn't have much time before he found himself complying with Chris's demand. Chris found himself filled with the strong desire to move his hand a little further down than its current resting place, but a sort of panic held him back. He tried to tell himself that it was absurd, but he just couldn't step out of the fear.
Eventually, they both came up for air, and Jonathan breathlessly said, “I love you, too, Chris, you know that?”
“Yeah, I know that,” Chris laughed as if Jonathan's question was completely ridiculous. He finally moved his hand, but only to brush Jonathan's cheek. “You're a very handsome boy, even with that awful-looking eye. Painful awful, I mean,” Chris said, “but I'd love to sit and stare at you all day.”
“Well, thanks,” Jonathan replied, setting his hand on Chris's hip. Chris flinched a little, but he was smiling widely as he looked at Jonathan. “You're not so bad yourself.”
“Of course,” Chris gently laughed. Then, still smiling, he tilted his head a little. “Have you ever had a girlfriend, Jonathan?”
“No, why?”
“Just wondering.” Chris rested his one hand on the crook of Jonathan's shoulder, then tried to position his other hand on the opposite shoulder so that the wrist wrap wouldn't be too much of a bother. He gave a contented sigh and gracefully blinked at Jonathan. “People don't call girls handsome, do they?”
It took Jonathan a moment to answer, since Chris's question seemed to have come out of nowhere. “Uh, I don't believe girls are ever referred to as handsome, no.” Chris nodded, and carried his eyes up as if he was thinking about something.
“I thought not. Girls are referred to as... beautiful, or pretty. But I think boys could be pretty. Certainly gorgeous...” Chris stared at the ground with big eyes, then continued, “For boys or girls, of course.”
“Yeah, probably,” Jonathan cautiously said. He wasn't quite sure what to make of Chris's ramblings. Chris caught sight of Jonathan's confusion, and tried to clarify with what Jonathan thought might not have been a real answer to his unasked question.
“It's good to know these things, isn't it?” Chris explained.
“Sure, it is.” Jonathan closely examined the other boy, not actually looking for anything in particular. He did find something, a little unexpectedly. Not surprisingly, though, because he always felt a bit weak when Chris looked at him with those big, blue eyes. And they were like the strongest magnets in the world; it was almost physically impossible to look away. “Chris, I think I'd say you're gorgeous.”
Chris's smile widened, if that was even possible. “Yeah? But I'm the only boy you'd call gorgeous, right?”
“Definitely,” Jonathan immediately answered, and at first it looked as though Chris was disappointed. He smiled again in a second, though, bright like always.
“Good.”
Chris didn't really space out much after that. Not for the rest of that afternoon, at least. He was incredibly concentrated on being with Jonathan, and making the most of the moments they had together. He still couldn't get past that fear, though, that tiny little speck of fear that held him back, but he knew he would get over it in time. In time he could get used to it, get used to the fear, and eventually it would be like it wasn't even there. Absolutely normal, and Chris would be absolutely normal. He was normal, anyway; it's not like there was that big of a difference between him and the other boys.
The furthest his courage took him was to walk with Jonathan as they both left, just until they reached the corner of the building. He made sure he was walking on the proper side so that he could hold Jonathan's hand. Before they parted ways, Chris stopped Jonathan and sweetly kissed him.
“Goodbye, Jonathan,” Chris cooed. He walked away, and the grin that had been plastered on his face for the past few hours began to fade as he remembered what he was walking towards. He closed his eyes for a little bit every now and then on spots of the sidewalk where he was sure he wouldn't run into anyone or thing, thinking of Jonathan and how nice it was to be with him. And when he was sure that with eyes closed he'd nearly kill himself by smashing into stagnant objects, he'd just drift off into the lovely daydream world he'd created for himself. Mostly he spent his dream world time being with Jonathan.
Jonathan was much more conscious on his way home. He didn't drift off into another world, rather he watched everything that passed him by, or that he passed by, and tried to take in as much of it as he could. It was painfully cold outside, and while the thick lining of his jacket kept him moderately warm, his face was left bare. It pinked with the blustering air, and Jonathan hoped that his mother would soon take up driving again so he wouldn't freeze to death.
The warm air pounded him as he closed the front door, and for a second it was more painful than the cold. His body conformed with it quickly, though, and it became this sensational rush toasting him and returning his cheeks to a normal peachy color. He stood in the hallway for a little while, enjoying the ability to feel his nose again, and it never occurred to him that Penny was in the other room. Then he heard her move around, and it startled him at first, but he soon realized what the sound was.
“Hey, mum!” he shouted, still warming up in the hallway. Penny poked her head around the corner, a rather worried look dancing upon her wrinkled face.
“Jonathan, what are you doing home so late?” she calmly asked, stepping forward towards her son. The closer she got, the more prevalent the bags under her eyes became. Jonathan innocently looked up at her, and was saddened by what he saw. Penny hardly even looked like his mother anymore.
“You know me, mum, I like to walk around a lot.” She didn't seem to believe him, but she didn't really fight much, either.
“In the cold?”
“It's not like I have a ride home or anything,” Jonathan muttered. Penny lowered her head, ashamed, though Jonathan hadn't meant for his words to sound so cruel.
“Would you like some tea?” she kindly asked. “It'll help to warm you.” Jonathan nodded, even though he wasn't sure Penny would see him.
“Yeah, thanks.” Penny glanced at Jonathan once more with defeated eyes, then turned and entered the kitchen. Jonathan kicked off his shoes and left them by the door, then followed his mother. It seemed as though she had sensed his imminent return, and had already heated up a kettle before he even walked through the door. She poured him a cup, and one for herself, then carried them to the table, where Jonathan was seated.
“Here you go, sweetheart,” she said, placing one of the steaming cups in front of Jonathan. He thanked her and carefully held it in between his hands. The hot ceramic nearly burned him, but he really, really wanted to be warm. Penny sat down opposite Jonathan, and just stared into her cup.
“Mum, how was your day?” Penny lifted her eyes with a bit of surprise. She gazed around the room for a bit, trying to think of something to say.
“It was as it usually is, I suppose. I did some cleaning. I made some tea.” She connected her eyes with Jonathan's, and Jonathan thought he could see a bit of agony swirling behind them. “Nothing new.”
“Oh,” he plainly said. “My day wasn't that exciting, either.”
Jonathan decided that his tea had enough time to cool down by this point, and so he ventured a sip as his mother asked, “Were you with Devon earlier?”
“Uh, no, actually,” Jonathan replied, setting the cup back down on the table. He had been wrong in thinking that it wasn't too hot to drink, and now his tongue felt really smooth and stinging. “He kinda... Well, he has some anger issues, and so he's gone now. To fix those issues. His parents sent him away. Hopefully he'll get better.” The silence was too awkward for Jonathan, and so he continued to ramble on until his mother finally spoke up, which was quite some time later.
“Anger issues,” she quietly repeated. “Is that what happened to your eye, then?” Jonathan unconsciously raised a hand to his bruised eye. He had almost forgotten about it.
“Uh, yeah.” Jonathan let his hand fall, and sighed as he looked at his mother. “Mum, what's happened to us?”
Penny scrunched her eyebrows and replied, “What do you mean?”
“Well, it's just that... like, I'm pretty sure this is the first time we've talked in a week. More than just a few words. And even then, this isn't much of a conversation.”
“Right. It's just been so hard,” Penny stammered, her baggy eyes welling with tears. In order to hinder any sort of embarrassment, she buried her face in her hands. It was hardly any use, though, and Jonathan could see a few drops splash down from her hands and into the untouched cup of tea below.
“You really did love him, didn't you?” Jonathan asked in a low voice. Penny wiped her eyes dry and nodded.
“Yes, definitely. Jonathan, I know you don't understand why, but,” Penny reached across the table and grabbed Jonathan's hand, “you're young still. You're only a boy, I don't expect you to know much about love.” Jonathan looked hard at his mother, and suddenly he began to feel that she was right.
“Then tell me,” he said. He wanted to have an actual talk with Penny, since he couldn't remember a time in his life when they had actually had one that went somewhere.
“I know it sounds horrible to say this, but... Jonathan, it's all my fault.” Jonathan opened his mouth in objection, but Penny raised her hand to silence him. “Before you say anything, let me explain. You see... well, love is a complicated sort of thing. In movies and books and stuff, they always make it seem so glamorous. You'll always fall in love with the perfect person.”
“That's not how it really is,” Jonathan stated for her, and she shook her head.
“There is no such thing as perfect, Jonathan,” Penny continued. “No one is even close to perfect. But being in love is being able to see past those imperfections and appreciate someone for the good in them. It's by no means easy, and I think that's why not very many people know what true love is.”
“So, you're saying that if someone is a jerk to you, but you can forget about that because they have some nicer qualities, then that's love?” Jonathan asked in an almost bitter tone. Yet, something was stirring in the back of his mind.
“It sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? But yes. That's where it gets tricky, though.” Penny stared down at her tea, which was still brimming, and sighed discontentedly. “He had a problem, it wasn't hard to see. I noticed it, you noticed it, everyone noticed it. He tried to get help. He wanted to get help. It worked... and for quite a long time.”
“Sober for three years,” Jonathan said.
“Yep. It was great. Sure, he was still a little rough around the edges, but that was just something to admire. His unwillingness to back down and listen to other people. It helped him to get that big promotion, which paid for the house, your school. Everything.” Penny paused for a moment, and shrugged indifferently. “It didn't last forever. Hardly anything does.”
Jonathan continued to stare, waiting for things to become clear, because this thing was still wriggling to life in his head, but it wasn't quite there. “I still don't get how this is your fault.”
“When you love someone you forget about the bad stuff,” Penny said- unhelpfully, at least to Jonathan. They'd already gone over that, and Jonathan felt like he was losing his patience, because he just wanted to understand what was going on. “So there's no choice but to let the bad stuff slide. Do you know how damaging that is?”
Finally, a point had been made, but Jonathan was still a bit fuzzy. “No.”
“If you let someone get away with all of their bad habits it only hurts everyone involved. Maybe not at first, maybe not even noticeably, but it does.” Penny pushed away the cup and clasped her hands on the table. She was holding on so tight that her fingers turned white rather quickly. “And that's why it's my fault. Do you see now?”
“Kinda,” Jonathan said, which was nearly a lie. The wriggling, stirring thing had seemed to grow legs, but it was still crawling around.
“If you love someone, you should want them to be the best they can. But loving them so much that you don't really pay attention to anything but the good parts holds them back. Do you understand?” Her fingers were still very white, and the tears were returning to her eyes. “I loved him, I did, but I didn't do it right. I couldn't help him.”
“Mum, you can't-”
“No, Jonathan. I can.” Penny leaned forward to get as close to her son as she could. Her voice started to shake, but she carried on regardless. “When you do love someone, make sure that you help them. Anyway you can. If they need to change, help them change. For good, don't just do it because you don't like one little thing about them. But if it's something that could hurt them, don't just sit there and let it happen. Help.” Penny sat back and tried to stop the tears that were begging to be released from their ocular prison.
But Jonathan just stared. His brain was soaking in the words like a dry sponge, and they replayed over and over on some sort of continuous loop. Every time they changed, though, until they were no longer Penny's words. They were new words. Familiar words, though, but where had he heard them before?
I appreciate what you did for me. They were so familiar, almost as if he'd said them himself. I would hate for you to be too jealous to love me. He didn't say that. Did he? My condolences. No, it definitely wasn't him. I can't have you here when she comes. The answer was right there, why couldn't he get it?
This is all my fault. I should have thought about how jealous it would make you. That voice. So sweet, and so familiar. You didn't purposely come looking for me, did you? Almost...
You know me, Jon. Everyone loves me.
“Of course.” Jonathan hardly recognized that it was his voice saying that. It wasn't until Penny looked up that he realized.
“Of course?” she repeated. Jonathan shook himself back to the reality of the kitchen table. He took a look at his eye in the horrible refection that the tea cup provided. It did look awful.
“Thank you for the advice, mum,” Jonathan replied, and he stood up. He walked over to Penny and placed his hand on her shoulder. “But don't blame yourself, because that won't do you any good, either.” She briefly laid her hand on top of his, silently thanking him. When she let go, he took his hand back, too, and left the kitchen intending to go up to his own room.
Not all change is bad. That doesn't make it easy. Jonathan fell onto his bed and sighed. He looked over at his lamp, the plug still dangling off the side of the table. What did he even need that lamp for, anyway? He hadn't used it in, like, a month.
He stared at it for a couple of minutes. It was a lamp that he'd had since he was a little kid. His mother probably bought it for one of his birthdays or a Christmas. Or maybe one of his other, more distant relatives had given it to him. Either way, he didn't use it anymore. It just sat there, taking up space.
Things were changing. Well, no, they weren't; he had to initiate the change. So, the first step would be to get rid of this lamp.
Jonathan swiftly swung his legs over the side of his bed, and grabbed the lamp off the table. He walked over to his window and heaved it open. Once the pane was locked in place he let go of the lamp, watching it as it made its fatal way to the ground. It smashed the instant it even scratched the surface of the earth below Jonathan's window. He realized that it wasn't the best way to dispose of the lamp, but he didn't care. It felt good.
Much better than what else he knew he'd have to do.
