The room was quiet and dark, the blinds pulled down and the curtains shut tight to block the rising sun. It took a few seconds for Jonathan's eyes to adjust to the lack of light, and he moved them along the crevices of the ceiling tiles until his brain registered the time. Groaning, he maliciously threw the covers off him and into the wall which had lent its space to the edge of the bed. He swung his feet down to the floor, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and reaching for the lamp at his bedside. He couldn't find it, mostly because it had been moved the previous night when he rearranged his room, and he had foolishly forgotten to move it back. His feet pushed down into the carpet as he blindly stumbled around the room. His searching fingers found the light switch, lifted it up, then shielded his eyes from the burst of florescence that emerged.
His outfit for the day was already neatly laying on top of his dresser. A pair of charcoal trousers were at the bottom, smothered by the mound of attire above. The pressed collar of his white dress shirt was showing underneath a blue blazer sporting the letters ECS, which had been neatly embroidered in red thread. Jonathan laughed at the ridiculousness of the stack of clothes as he picked them up and began to dress. He would have carelessly thrown his clothes on his bed while he dressed if it hadn't been for the fear that his mother or father would check in on him. If they saw him disgrace his uniform in any way, he would surely be in a heap of trouble. So, he slowly lifted the blazer and shirt up in order to grab his trousers. As he looked at the fabric, he sighed.
Another day at the dull pile of stone otherwise known as the Ewell Castle School, an independent boys' school in Surrey. It was supposed to be a wonderful school- and it was- but being a boy, Jonathan did not particularly like it. Being a teenage boy, he did not care much for the lack of girls around, though secretly he had solved that problem. Still, a school is a boring place for any child to be, especially if the child must act proper at all times.
As he buttoned the white shirt and fastened a red- and blue-striped tie around his neck, a knock softly soared through the wood of his door. He made no effort to answer it, simply taking his time with the tie. He thought that would be best, anyway, to make sure his tie was on properly rather than rush to talk to who was presumably his mother. When he did answer the door, it came as no surprise to him that it was indeed his mother, bright and with a steaming cup of tea in her hand.
“Morning Jonathan,” she said, allowing herself to enter the room. She winced at the state of his messy bed, and reluctantly sat down. The cup of tea she placed on the bedside table, before smoothing out the wrinkles in her knee-length, black skirt. “My, you look rather spiffy today. Nice job on the tie.”
“Thank you, mum,” Jonathan quietly replied as he fit his arms through the sleeves of the blazer. He lifted the collar a few times, making sure that he looked absolutely perfect and presentable for the day. “Did you want to ask me something, or...?”
“No, nothing in particular. Your father is just a bit on edge today, so I figured I'd give him some space, and come see how you were doing.” There was an awkward silence as Jonathan's mother stared at the ground. It could be inferred that the relationship between his parents was strained at the very least. The wrinkles in his mother's face were brought on by stress and worry, the result of his father's strict expectations of both the quality of the household, and the quality of her obedience. She brightened up to continue, “How are you doing, by the way?”
“I'm fine, thanks.”
“Good.” Jonathan's mother continued to press out her skirt to perfection, even though there were no longer any visible creases. “Are you almost ready to leave? I'm sure we still have plenty of time, but if you want to arrive early, maybe see some friends of yours.”
Jonathan lightly laughed and politely smiled at his mother. “You know I don't have any friends.”
“Oh, you, stop it. You do have friends, I know it.”
“All right, but very few. Certainly none worth arriving early for.”
“Well, what about that one boy? Um, you were talking to him one day... you know, tall boy, curly hair.”
For a second, Jonathan's eyes widened, and his heart beat just a dot faster. He hadn't meant for anyone, particularly not his mother, to know that he acquainted with this boy. There was no hiding it now, though, so he chose to smudge the truth a bit. “Oh, I'm not friends with him. He was, I think- if I recall correctly- asking me if I had a spare pencil.” It was an awful lie, but his mother seemed to buy it.
“Oh,” she said, and Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief. Now desperate to leave the interrogation of his mother, Jonathan rushed a hand to her back to usher her out of the room.
“Now that I think about it, I do have a friend. Chester. We're rather chummy, perhaps I could have a chat with him before class starts.”
“Chester.” She drank the name in, ignoring Jonathan's pressing hand. When finally she recognized it, she obeyed her son and stood up. “I thought you and Chester didn't get on?”
“Oh, no, we're the best of friends now.”
“Well, if you insist, then I suppose we can head out in a few minutes. Finish readying yourself, I'll just be waiting in the car.” Jonathan nodded at his mother as she left the room, tightly shutting the door behind her. He scrambled to collect his things, eagerly trying to think of any other person who may have witnessed the same interaction his mother had. No one was supposed to know he was friends with that boy, because he wasn't, really. They were not, and had never been friends.
Two minutes later, Jonathan was shutting the passenger side door of his mother's tiny car. The space between his legs and the glove compartment was just enough to fit his backpack without having to squeeze it in. He avoided to the best of his ability any conversation with his mother, which turned out to be rather easy, as she avoided to the best of her ability any conversation with her son. Jonathan thanked his mother for the ride as they pulled up to the enormous, brown building. He waited until the car pulled away to start walking to the entrance. On his way, a small group of boys gathered by the door caught his eye.
They were what the other students called the 'popular' boys, the boys whose parents were richest, or had the most prestigious jobs. Most of them were overly pretentious and fancy. In fact, all of them were overly pretentious and fancy, though some definitely more than others. At the center of the circle was their leader, the tall boy with curly hair that Jonathan's mother had taken notice of. His father was the mayor of some small town that no one really cared about, but everyone seemed to think the boy was the greatest. Even Jonathan thought so, though he would never openly admit it. As someone who was classified as a loser, it was Jonathan's responsibility to detest the entire lot of them, and it was their responsibility to detest Jonathan.
Jonathan kept his eye on the boy in the center, who looked up as the rest were laughing at something he'd said. He saw Jonathan and quickly winked at him, before returning his attention to his followers. Jonathan smiled to himself and continued on into the school.
By a strange coincidence, the boy called Chester happened to be standing right by the entrance as Jonathan entered the building. He sneered at Jonathan as they caught sight of each other. They weren't really friends, either.
“You might want to be careful about making faces like that,” Jonathan said in passing, “it might stick, and you'd be even uglier than usual.”
“At least I wouldn't look half as bad as you,” Chester retorted. Their insults to each other were always horrible and predictable, but it was a tradition that neither was willing to give up. And there was really no reason for them to loathe each other so much, they just did.
The school day dragged on as always, and Jonathan found himself growing more and more tired as the day went on. Not physically tired, but mentally tired. Tired of seeing the same old people, the same old rooms over and over. He only had a few more years to endure, but he wasn't sure if he could make it. Of course, all of his classmates felt the same, so there was no use in complaining.
That day a rumor was making its way around, embellishing itself with new information each time it was told. When it finally reached Jonathan's ears, it went something like this:
The unknown town's mayor's son, who was called Chris, had been to a party the other night down at some random and unimportant person's house. It was a real party, too; there was loud music, a variety of crazy alcoholic drinks, and girls. How Chris had managed to pull off an invitation was unknown, and eventually the story was that he just crashed the party. In any case, he had found himself a pretty little girl to flirt with, and she flirted back. One thing led to another, and-
“He totally shagged her. Can you believe that?” Devon told Jonathan in a hushed voice. Devon was probably the only boy Jonathan would consider his friend, a pale, dark-haired boy about three inches shorter than Jonathan. They'd lived down the road from each other their entire lives, and their families were well acquainted.
Jonathan snorted at the ridiculousness of Devon's story. “No. I mean, do you really believe anything you hear around here?”
“I don't know man,” Devon said. It was obvious that he was totally convinced, though he was usually gullible enough to take everything told to him as fact. “I've heard it's not the first girl he's banged, either.”
“Yeah, and I've heard that you sleep in a bed filled with stuffed animals and in your spare time you listen to the Spice Girls. Should I believe that, too?”
Devon's face went red as he mumbled, “I don't listen to the Spice Girls anymore.”
“Is the stuffed animals thing true?”
“It's only, like, one teddy bear. My bed's not filled with them. Plus, it was a gift from my late grandmother, and she meant a lot to me.”
“OK, man,” Jonathan replied. They were walking out of the school now, as it was finally the end of the day. They were about halfway to the road when Jonathan heard a whistle from behind him. He didn't look, but he knew what the whistle meant. He quickly dismissed himself, creating some lame excuse like he left something behind. In reality, he was being called to the small alley created by the side of the building and the gate around the premises. He stealthily walked into the alley, making sure that no one saw him.
“I think we need to find a new place to meet, some people are starting to catch on,” Chris said. He was leaning against the side of the building, his blazer hanging over his one shoulder and his hands shoved into his trouser pockets.
“Well, the school was never really a good place for us to meet, was it?” Jonathan stopped in front of Chris. Chris narrowed his eyes at Jonathan and gave him a cheeky smile.
“I suppose not, but that's all part of the fun.”
“Speaking of fun, did you hear the rumors going 'round today?” Jonathan laughed hopefully, but Chris's lack of response made him think otherwise. “They're not rumors, are they?”
“Jon,” Chris said, his voice very serious. “Of course they're rumors.”
“Right, of course.” Jonathan shook his head. “I just... I mean, I know there've been girls-”
“I've dated girls, yeah, but, Jon, do you have any idea what that sort of thing would do to my reputation? I can't just go out and pick up any floozy I want and have my way with her. I mean, I could,” Chris laughed arrogantly, “but the thing is, I would end up being pegged as some heartless womanizer. Which, yeah, is not a bad thing in the eyes of the boys here, but people outside of this school... It would ruin me, Jon.”
“I'm sorry, I don't know why I thought even for a second that it could be true. I know you wouldn't do that sort of thing.”
“Exactly,” Chris smiled, pushing himself off the wall. He stepped inches away from Jonathan and leaned forward to get a good look at him. “And what I've got is already good enough for me.” Jonathan blushed and hid his eyes, and Chris straightened his shoulders and smiled. “You know me, Jon. Everyone loves me. If I wanted some hot little thing from one of those girls' schools, I could have her in seconds. I don't want any of that.”
“Why not?”
“You're simply much too charming. No girl could compare.”
Jonathan twisted his mouth, not entirely convinced by Chris's words. “I'm sure you won't always feel that way.”
“I'm afraid I disagree. Anyway, even if it is true, that day is far in the future. We should cherish the present, because right now that's all that matters.”
“You're absolutely right,” Jonathan said. “It was foolish of me to think you'd be so reckless.”
“Yes, it was, but all is forgiven.” Chris placed one of his large hands on Jonathan's shoulder. “In all honesty, I wouldn't have expected any less from you. You're quite a jealous boy, you know that?”
“But I can't help it, Chris. It's hard not to be jealous when all these people get to be around you all the time. I'm not even allowed to be your friend.”
“One day that will all change, Jon, don't you worry. Besides, you wouldn't want me as a friend. I'm dreadfully uninteresting.” Chris laughed as if what he said was untrue, and that he really wasn't dreadfully uninteresting. He laughed as if he was the most interesting person in the world, and it entertained him to convince people otherwise.
“You're not uninteresting to me, but maybe that would change if we were friends.” Jonathan briefly laid his hand on top of Chris's, and they both brought their hands down at the same time. “I must be going now, I think. We'll have to come up with another meeting place for tomorrow.”
“If only we could meet at my house,” Chris sighed. “It would make things much simpler.”
“Indeed, it would. For now, how about the alley by the diner? I think it would still be safe to meet in an alley, yes?”
“By the diner sounds wonderful, Jon. I shall see you tomorrow, then.” Chris pressed two fingers to his lips, then moved them to Jonathan's cheek. “Don't miss me too much.”
Jonathan smiled, then ran to find his mother. Her car was sitting on the side of the road, patiently waiting for him.
“What took you so long?” she asked as he sat in the car. He quickly threw the same lame excuse at her, that he'd left something behind. She accepted it as Devon had, and the rest of the car ride home was completely silent.
He ran up to his room and changed into what he considered to be normal clothes, then relaxed on his still unmade bed. He thought about taking a nap, but if his father came home and he was sleeping, he'd be in for it. Instead, he thought about Chris. He often thought about Chris, probably more so than Chris thought about him. He didn't mind, though, because he liked thinking about Chris.
They had been secretly meeting for months, ever since Jonathan had opened his locker to find a small note fall to his feet. The note was something Chris had scribbled in between classes and somehow managed to shove into Jonathan's locker. It asked him to meet Chris after school in the small alley. He was rather surprised to find that Chris's agenda was one of a romantic nature.
It was almost like a fairytale. The popular one that everyone loves falls for the nerdy one that everyone hates, or at least doesn't know exists. Then there's the forbidden element, which was doubly so in their case. Jonathan found himself unable to say no to Chris, as he was hypnotized by Chris's dazzling personality. He was funny and charming. Everyone loved him, and it was easy for Jonathan to see why. To know that someone so wonderful could like someone like Jonathan was magical, and even surreal. It really was a fairytale.
After countless minutes swimming in thoughts of Chris, Jonathan was pulled to the surface by the sound of his father's voice booming through the house. His monstrous tone told that he was angry, probably with something Jonathan's mother had done. Jonathan closed his eyes and tried to escape back to the alley by the school, but it wasn't long before he was interrupted by a knock on his door.
“Come in!” he shouted, refusing to open his eyes or move at all. The door opened, and a person walked into the room and over by his bed.
“Have you seen your father's dark green tie?” Jonathan's mother asked him. Jonathan shook his head, heard his mother sigh in response, and finally opened his eyes. She looked worn-out and sad. “Great.”
“Sorry.” His mother shook her head, silently telling him not to apologize, and left without saying another word. Afraid of any drama between his parents he might have to endure if he stayed at home, Jonathan put on his trainers and walked to Devon's house. He knocked on the big, blue door and waited for an answer.
“Hello, Jonny!” Devon's younger sister Kirsten chimed as she pulled back the door. She looked very much like Devon, though a female version. Her hair was the same color, but it was past shoulder-length, and she had a bit more color in her face. Like Devon, she and Jonathan had known each other for a very long time. She always called him Jonny, though he wasn't sure why. Everyone else only ever called him Jon or Jonathan, but for some reason, Kirsten insisted on calling him Jonny. “Are you looking for Devon?”
“Yes, Kirsten. Is he around?”
“Yeah, I'll go get him.” She didn't actually get him, but she closed the door a bit and shouted behind her, “DEVON! JONNY'S AT THE DOOR!” She opened the door again and smiled at Jonathan. “He should be here real soon, he's probably up in his room doing manly things.”
Jonathan wasn't sure what she meant, nor did he want to know what she meant, so he politely nodded and waited on the porch. Devon took his sister's place within minutes, and apologized for taking so long.
“It's OK,” Jonathan replied. “I just needed to get out of the house, and, you know, away from my parents. So, I was just wondering if you wanted to come outside or something.”
“Yeah, sure,” Devon said, walking out onto the porch and closing the door behind him. “Uh, I can't find my shoes, though, so I hope you weren't planning on going far.”
Jonathan looked down to see that Devon was standing rather bare-foot, and he couldn't help laughing. “How did you lose your shoes? Weren't you wearing any to school?”
“Well, yes, but I can't wear those outside of school. They're part of the uniform, you know.”
“Right. Well... still, how did you lose your shoes?” Jonathan continued to laugh. Devon leaned over to him, which made him look even shorter than he already was.
“I think Kirsten took them. She's evil.”
“I'd believe it.” Devon stood back and looked at Jonathan, a smug grin forming on his pale face.
“You know, she's got a thing for you. She asks about you all the time.”
“She does?”
“Oh, yes. She's always asking weird things, like,” Devon changed his pitch to a squeaky, girlish one, “Devon, how was Jonny today? Devon, what was Jonny wearing today? Devon, do you think Jonny would ever want to marry me?”
“She does not say that!”
Devon folded his arms and laughed at Jonathan's disbelief. “Yes, she does. If you don't believe me, ask her yourself. Of course, she'll never tell you the truth, she'd die of embarrassment!”
“I don't think I would marry her,” Jonathan mused, shaking his head. “Not that she's not nice or anything, I just don't think she would be someone I'd be interested in marrying.”
“I don't blame you there. She's evil. So, the usual drama at the homestead?”
“Pretty much. I guess my dad couldn't find his tie...? I'm not really sure, not that it matters much to me.” Devon looked down and skimmed his toe on the smooth surface of the porch.
“I'm so glad my parents aren't like that, I don't think I could deal with it.”
“Yeah, well, I can't really deal with it, either, but I have to. There's really no other choice.”
Devon started to laugh again. “You could marry my sister and move in with us, then you wouldn't have to deal with it.”
“It's tempting,” Jonathan said, joining in on the laughter. “Kirsten might not appreciate me marrying her just to get away from my family, though.”
“No, she loves you too much to care.” Devon let his arms fall to his side and he walked to the edge of the stairs. “I feel like going for a walk... My parents won't care if I go without wearing shoes, will they?”
“They probably will.” Jonathan walked over to where Devon was and looked out at the road. “If you really can't find any shoes, though, I think I have a spare somewhere in my room.”
“Thanks, man, but I wouldn't want to make you go back home. I'll just go threaten Kirsten until she gives me my shoes back.” Devon smiled and ran inside his house. Jonathan patiently waited, eventually sitting down on the top step and leaning against the railing. As he watched the neighborhood, very little happened. A few cars passed by, a kid or two ran by, but nothing extraordinary. Devon returned soon enough, his feet now hidden inside of two dirty white trainers.
“It worked, I assume,” Jonathan said to Devon, nodding to this feet. Even though he knew what Jonathan was talking about, Devon still looked down.
“Oh, no, actually, they were in my room.” He looked up at Jonathan and gave a nervous laugh. “I guess Kirsten really didn't take them after all.”
“Then maybe she's not as evil as you say,” Jonathan said, and Devon laughed.
“Are you gonna marry her, then, since she didn't take my shoes?”
“Yes. See, I didn't want to say it earlier, but that was really the deciding factor. If she had stolen your shoes, well, I would have wanted nothing to do with her. But, because she didn't steal your shoes, I will gladly take her as my wife.”
“Good. I'm sure she, along with my parents, will be astonishingly pleased to hear this,” Devon smiled, and he nodded to the road. “Let's get going, yeah?”
“Is there anywhere in particular you were planning on walking to?” Jonathan asked as they walked down the old and cracked sidewalk.
“Not really. Do you have anywhere in mind?”
“Definitely not.” Jonathan silently watched the pavement roll beneath them as their feet trudged the sidewalk. He wondered what the chances were of them running into Chris along the way, even though he knew that he wouldn't really be able to acknowledge Chris in public. Still, it would have been nice to see him.
They walked down the street a short way before turning back. Devon suggested they keep going, but Jonathan pointed out that it was getting later, and he would be expected home for dinner very soon. Devon said that was fair enough, and the two returned to their respective homes.
Jonathan reluctantly entered his house, quietly closing the door behind him. Everything was quiet, so he assumed that either one of two things could have happened: his parents had made up and were happy and good now; or his father had finally flipped completely and killed his mother. He hoped and prayed that the first was true, because if he had come home to a murder scene he would not have been very pleased. Plus, no matter how often he despised his mother, his father was always twenty times worse. There was also the possibility that his death would be next. He was right, though, and he walked into the kitchen to find his mother humming merrily as she cooked the last of the dinner, and his father quietly reading the newspaper at the table.
“Oh, Jonathan, you're back!” his mother exclaimed when she saw him. She immediately turned to the pot on the stove and added a few different spices to the mixture. Jonathan's father briefly looked up from the top of the newspaper, but wordlessly continued reading. Jonathan took a seat at the table and stared unsuspectingly at the empty plate in front of him. He didn't dare to ask what his mother had prepared, and it didn't matter anyway. Whatever she made, he would have to eat.
A few minutes later, Jonathan's mother walked over to the table with the steaming pot, oven mitts protecting her hands from the heat. She placed that pot in the center of the table and grabbed a ladle from the counter. She then went back and grabbed three bowls from the cupboard, placing them neatly on each of the plates that had been set earlier. She spooned the stew into the bowls, then let the ladle rest against the edge of the pot. She sat down and cleared her throat to get Jonathan's father's attention. It didn't work the first time, so she tried again. Jonathan's father slowly folded his newspaper and placed it to the side of his dish. He folded his hands and bowed his head, and Jonathan and his mother did the same. Jonathan's father began to say a prayer, as he always did, and once he was finished, he began to eat. Jonathan and his mother both waited for him to take a bite and comment on the food before either of them began to eat. He let the stew sit in his mouth for a moment, swirling it over his taste buds before he swallowed.
“Delicious,” he said, and Jonathan's mother quietly breathed a sigh of relief. The three ate their meal, casually chatting about trivial things as they did so.
“Did you behave in school today, Jonathan?” It was always the same question, and it always received the same answer.
“Absolutely, sir.” There really wasn't much else to say. Jonathan dug his spoon into the bowl and pulled out some of the stew. He couldn't quite tell what all was in it, but it didn't taste half bad. Jonathan's mother and father civilly talked to each other for a while, and Jonathan only heard a small portion of what they were saying. He suddenly remembered something he needed to ask his mother, but he waited until his parents were finished talking to get her attention.
“Yes, Jonathan?” she sweetly asked. Jonathan paused for a moment and stirred his spoon around in the bowl, trying to think of the best phrasing for what he wanted to ask.
“Would it be all right if I walk around town after school tomorrow?” He looked up at her and saw that she was narrowing her eyes slightly, searching for something in her son's expression that she wasn't going to find.
“I suppose. With Devon?” Her eyes returned to their normal size, and she returned to eating her dinner.
“With Devon, maybe, or by myself. Would that be all right?”
“Sure. Just call whenever you need to be picked up.”
“You're not going around with a girl, are you?” Jonathan's father interrupted, though in a light and jovial voice. Jonathan nervously laughed, almost unsure of how to respond.
“No. Would you like me to?”
“Well, you know, you are getting to be that age, Jonathan. You do need to start thinking about the future.”
“Oh, Randall, he's still only a boy,” Jonathan's mother said, reacher her hand towards her husband. “Did you think about your future at fifteen?”
Jonathan's father pompously laughed and held his head up. “I knew exactly what my future would be when I was ten.”
“Oh, of course you did,” Jonathan's mother sarcastically laughed. “Did it actually work out that way?”
Jonathan's father bowed his head a little. “No.” After a quick silence, the room was bursting with the sound of laughter. Jonathan was hugely relieved to see that his parents were on good terms now. The tension that had existed earlier that day and even in the afternoon was nothing out of the ordinary, of course, but he still loathed it.
After dinner, the three went their separate ways. Jonathan's mother cleared the table and began to tidy up the kitchen, while Jonathan's father went into the living room to relax and watch TV and Jonathan went up to his room. It was routine, basically, for them to all do such things in the evening.
Thirteen hours had passed since he woke up, and yet Jonathan's bed was still unmade. He would be underneath the covers again in a matter of hours, but he decided to take the time to neaten it anyway. If his father should for some reason get up from his cozy chair in the living room to see Jonathan, he would not be pleased at all to see such an untidy bed. Jonathan took his time to make sure that the blankets and sheets looked perfect, and that his pillow was not too far from the top center. When he finished, he looked at the masterpiece, and decided that he would sit on the floor to keep the bed looking as nice as it did.
There were some birds chirping outside of his window, and they were being rather annoying. Even through the closed pane, Jonathan could hear them loud and clear. He walked over to the window and lifted it open just a crack, so that he could pop his head out to see where the birds were. A small nest rested in the crook of a nearby tree, where the trunk and branch met. There were three of the tiny creatures, and they were partying like crazy. Jonathan yelled at them to shut up, though he knew they would neither hear him or know what he was asking of them. He grumpily shut his window and glanced around his room.
The clothes he had worn that day to school were laying in the corner, and he quickly moved to pick them up. He neatly folded the blazer and placed it on his bed, while the shirt and trousers he simply threw into his hamper. The tie was already laying on top of his dresser, so he placed his blazer next to it, and removed a new shirt and pair of trousers from the drawers to rest on top of the blazer. It all looked so neat and proper, and Jonathan laughed in spite of himself.
With nothing else to do, Jonathan laid down on the floor and gazed up at the ceiling. He thought about what his father had told him about thinking of the future, and what Devon had said about Kirsten liking him. His mother was right, he was only fifteen, and not in any state to be making plans for his future. Especially not marriage. After all, it might be another fifteen years before he actually does marry, and so he doesn't see why he should be so pressured to think about it now.
Plus, if he thinks about his future, he has to think about the fact that he will not always be with Chris. It was a sad truth that he tried to avoid as much as he could. Still, he thought about it all the time. There would soon be a day when they would have to end their relationship, because it should not have existed. Both boys were expected to marry respectable women, and have respectable children with those women. And maybe one day they would both want that, but right now they did not, and the thought of ending what they had was upsetting.
Finally, it grew dark enough for Jonathan to shut off the light in his room and in his conscious. He closed his eyes against his pillow and tried to fight off the films of the next day playing in his head. The birds outside his window cried for him to stay in this world, but his body ignored them and he slowly journeyed into sleep.
