#punkpastel

[kemmpozzur]

Mood for today ♠️🍵 I do not own any of this content

[chinxino5-blog]

Cute  [ xxv ]

h2ovanoss fic - punk!pastel! highschool au warnings: none 4236 words part twenty-five

note: get ready for a toothache bois. this chapter is 100% pure rich krii7y so i hope it’s worth the huge wait. 

thanks for the support and love <3

25.

“You’re not allowed to leave me; you said you’d help.”

The ice rink was fairly quiet. Little bits of laughter and chatter mingled with the sounds of the metal blades on ice, and calm music floated on the air. John and Lucas skated to themselves, unaware of the others that zipped around the rink. They made their own slow laps, fingers linked and attention solely on each other.

No one even glanced in their direction.

John’s rings were ice cold.

Lucas’ chest was warm.

“Spread your feet more.” John scoffed but did as he was told. “Feel more stable?” A small nod. Gloved fingers squeezed John’s. “Alright, keep moving. Take little steps and angle your feet outwards so you glide.”

Instructions were followed by adjustments, whispered into the iciness. Lucas’ eyes didn’t move from John’s focused frown and John only took his eyes off his feet to glance up at Lucas’ encouraging smile. He barely noticed the younger kids that sped around the rink, nor the subtle change of songs.

He focused on his feet on the ice and on the dark brown eyes on him.

“Relax.” Lucas’ glided backwards with ease. Every movement of his was smooth and fluid. He didn’t find any difficulty in steering himself backwards, not even having to think as he kept his attention on his date. Alongside him, John was uncoordinated. His movements were awkward, his steps rigid and stiff. Lucas squeezed his hands. “John. Relax,” he urged.

John sighed, blowing the air out of his lungs. He tried his best to listen, rolling his shoulders and trying to move in a way that was casual and easy. It was calming to hear Lucas’ voice leading him. Telling him how to stand, how to move, what to change.

“Like this?” was something that frequented his own lips. He listened to every command and poured his concentration into doing what he was told to. Hearing the thoughtless praise drop from pretty pink lips was a beautiful motivator. It made all the effort worth it.

“Yup, that’s it.”

“Keep doing that.”

“Perfect! You’re getting it!”

John liked the sound of Lucas’ voice.

They didn’t stray from the sides of the rink. Their focus remained on skating comfortably but as time lead them on, Lucas found it easy to drop teasing words between his teachings. The private lesson developed into the date they were there for, Lucas’ hands still steady and his eyes still sparkling as he took the time to memorise the prettiness of John’s face.

He couldn’t feel the usual nervous fear that came with being around John. No – instead, as he led him forward – the breathless feeling in his lungs was because of the little frown of concentration John wore and the way his eyes lit up as he slowly got used to the rhythm of skating.

He wanted the session to last forever.

“This shit shouldn’t be so damn difficult…” John mumbled after running his skate to far and almost slipping over again (they’d lost count of the ‘almost’s). “You couldn’t have picked an easier hobby, could you?”

Lucas’ eyes twinkled, his smile lacking sympathy of any sort. He knew that, despite the complaints, John was enjoying himself. The satisfaction that came with successes flashed in his small genuine smiles and each one was more of a reward to Lucas than anything could have been. There wasn’t any real regret in John’s concentrated stare.

“It was this or alligator wrestling but, y’know, I thought we’d start small.” Lucas beamed, tongue between his teeth as he slipped his left hand out of John’s. Instantly, shaky fingers flew to the support bar and pale eyes looked to Lucas with a hint of fear. The other hand clenched Lucas’ fingers tightly, determined not to let go of him completely. “You’re okay,” Lucas assured, gliding back strongly and pulling John after him. “We’re just speeding up a bit, okay?”

John’s eyes remained wide, watching his feet as he held tightly onto the gloved fingers. His other hand skimmed over the wooden bar, ready to grab onto it the moment he lost his balance. There was a small moment where he bravely hauled his eyes up to meet Lucas’ gentle smile. “If you let me fall-”

His eyes returned to his feet.

“I’m not gonna let you fall, Grandma; don’t give yourself a heart attack.” The chiding words were light and humorous, giving regular squeezes of John’s fingers as little reminders that nothing bad was going to happen. “Lean forward more and glide, if you try push off the ice you’ll fall on your face.”

John’s next glance was a little more sarcastic. “Pleasant,” he dropped with his exhale, but he didn’t let the thought of falling bother him. He shuffled on the ice, skates sliding forwards instead of stomping and stumbling. Feet aimed outwards, he lingered his balance on each foot for a few seconds extra.

Lucas’ smile broadened, grabbing up the both of his hands once again. “Keep this going, John. You’re getting it!” he exclaimed, excited for his date. The small twitch of pursed lips showed John was containing his satisfaction.

They lapped the rink several times, pace lifted as Lucas continued pulling John forwards. Faster, smoother and steadier. As minutes dragged on, John grew accustomed to both the skates and the slippery ice. Fear drained from his eyes along with the stiffness of his legs and back.

The recurring phrase of “Relax,” encouraged his casual motions, feet learning to move with ease. He didn’t feel like he was going to fall every time he looked up to the pretty face before him. A face he knew he could look at all day without getting tired of. Lucas’ proud smile was the highest reward for his improvement.

“So if this is a small start, is the next step alligator wrestling? Or is that the final destination?” John’s smile grew at Lucas’ laugh, the boy’s head tipping back and grin glowing in his humour. John continued, “Are we gonna go, like, climb Mount Everest first? Or it is gonna be sky diving? Swimming with sharks?”

Seeing Lucas laugh openly, John couldn’t look away. His feet were forgotten in exchange for running his eyes over the little divots of Lucas’ cheeks, and the crinkle beneath his eyes where his grin pushed them half-shut. There was nothing more distracting than the sound of that giggle.

John couldn’t deny the glow of warmth in his chest: a craving to hear it again and again.

“I mean we can go at whatever pace you want. If you’re feeling brave I’ll book us into bull riding next weekend,” Lucas offered, tongue peeking out over his lip. John couldn’t not admire how adorable this boy could be. It was just plain unfair how one smile and one laugh could have the punk hearing his heartbeat in his ears.

His own laugh followed, knowing that neither himself or Lucas would be able to do anything so ridiculous as bull riding. Gliding after the boy, fingers relaxed in his composure, he shrugged. “I have a feeling it’ll be easier to get to know each other over a meal rather than on our way to the hospital when I fall off and get trampled by a pissed off cow, so how about dinner first?”

Surprise jumped in Lucas’ pretty eyes and it was almost comedic how the comment threw him off guard and off balance. He stumbled, catching himself with scrambling skates, and tucked his head down to hide the embarrassed and flustered redness of his cheeks.

John just asked him to have dinner. Like a real date that boyfriends would go on. A romantic date. Sitting across from each other. Talking.

Was he still breathing?

John couldn’t fight his grin but the music cut off with the final song and the other skaters in the rink drew to a stop.

“Well, that’s all for today folks! Thanks for stopping by and having a skate. Please exit the rink shortly, return your skates and make your way out of the main floor!”

The announcer drew their attention away, kids and adults migrating towards the exists and taking seats to remove their shoes. No one looked in the direction of the two boys that waited, still in their spot on the ice.

Almost as much as his smile, John adored Lucas’ rosy cheeks.

The smaller boy turned back to him, eyes just shy of reaching his as he drew himself backwards, tugging on John’s hands. “We have thirty minutes to ourselves now, think you can come away from the sides yet?”

“No.” The answer was instant, John’s legs shaking at the thought as he shuffled after Lucas. The melodious laugh resurfaced in the chilling air, warm pinkness fading from pale cheeks.

His smile was so beautiful, John couldn’t help mirroring it.

But any following comment died on Lucas’ tongue when his name was called from across the floor. The last few people dawdled out of the room and Aggie stood by the entrance to the rink, fluffy sweater keeping her warm. She beckoned the boy over.

A reassuring smile, squeeze of cold hands; Lucas skated across the rink with ease and stopped before the woman.

Her smile was fond. “It’s so lovely to see you back on the ice, my boy,” she said, holding onto the side of the entrance and watching his face closely. He smiled, shy but grateful. “Well, we’ll be turning everything off ready for cleaning, so don’t you two worry about things shutting down. Take your time and I’ll give you a call when we need you off the ice, okay?”

Seeing her smile, wearing those skates, feeling the goosebumps; Lucas was overwhelmed with nostalgia, memories of his childhood inescapable as they filled his chest with an unbreakable love for the place. His happy place.

He nodded. “Thank you so much for this.”

Her smile was sweet as she turned and began hobbling back to the ‘Staff Only’ door. She spoke over her shoulder. “Don’t thank me, dear. Tell your Ma that I said hello! And Lucas”—she paused, twisting to look back at him with a sparkle in her eye—“don’t let this boy go. He’s a pretty one.”

With those words, she pushed through the door and closed it behind her. Lucas lingered for a moment, skin tingling and smile on his lips. “I won’t,” he mouthed to the closed door.

The overhead lights powered down and the room was left in a cold, dim-lit silence. When he turned, casting his gaze back to his date, he just watched for a few moments. John had his concentrated stare on his feet, swaying his arms as he tried his best to keep his balance with every glide. Improvement had been slow, but worth it.

“I think I’m getting it,” John murmured the moment Lucas was close enough. He glanced up for half a second, pushing into another clumsy stride, and flashed a proud smile. His hand hovered above the rail, uncertain, but he strode forward with more confidence each second.

No more fear. Instead, he wore determination in his pretty eyes.

Lucas spun around in front of him, skating backwards for a few seconds and watching how John kept up. His gloved hands lifted between them and John didn’t even think about it as he took them back into his own. The second he turned himself, leading John away from the side and instead towards the middle of the rink, pale eyes widened and fear jumped back to life within them.

John pulled back, stopping himself and slowing Lucas down. The younger boy showed nothing but patience. “N- no, I don’t trust myself,” he blurted out, reluctant to even lean away from the boundary.

Patient eyes paired with a reassuring smile; Lucas squeezed his hands and drew John’s eyes back to his. “Do you trust me?” His words weren’t much more than a whisper in the silence of the rink. But he waited. He wasn’t going to rush John.

And surely, as John studied the open honesty of his face, the reluctance in those eyes melted like the ice beneath their skates. His shoulders relaxed and he breathed in deeply. Examining those dark swirls of chocolate, he nodded and found himself falling for the beaming smile that made Lucas just so beautiful.

The pull on his hands was very slow and gentle as he eased himself backwards and lead John towards the centre of the rink. His words were low-spoken and smooth, as though any louder and he’d shatter the ice they skated on. “Keep skating, keep moving, okay? You’re doing so good. Focus on me and just skate, m’kay?”

Another short nod. John couldn’t keep his eyes away from Lucas’ face. A small grin, a flash of white teeth. A smile that calmed him.

“Relax and glide.” A short reminder. Inhale, exhale, a better grip on gloved fingers, and John pushed forward. He moved his feet almost lazily, keeping his motions slow and accurate. The wobble of his knees faded and he forgot all about his fear of falling.

A subconscious smile lifted his lips and it warmed Lucas’ fingertips.

“Look at you: you’ve got it!”

John let out a small laugh, still focusing closely on his movements. Lucas turned, slowly leading him in a semicircle and drawing him back the other way. “You’re getting the hang of it so well, I’m surprised you haven’t fallen yet.”

The pointed look he received for that comment was highly unimpressed but John didn’t even get the chance to open his mouth. As they turned the next corner, his skate skidded to close to the other and his hands linked in Lucas’ doomed the both of them. Shock forced his eyes wide as he caught the sharp tip of his skate in the ice and split his weight unevenly. There was no saving it. “Shit!” he let out, skates sliding out from beneath him.

He landed heavy on his arse, water soaking through his back in seconds. A shriek released above him, weight landing on his chest sending the air out of his lungs. John’s head fell back, he winced in pain, and Lucas scrambled to push his weight up and off of him.

“Are you okay!?”

The cold surrounded them like a blanket, seeming to increase. Water soaked through his knees and gloves and he cringed at the thought of John’s back. The punk still managed a smile though, really just not wanting to worry the boy as he lifted his head and opened his eyes.

Holding himself on his hands and knees, Lucas stared. Brown eyes full of concern, parted lips full and pink. He sucked in a breath. “Okay, so maybe I jinxed us… but-…” The words on his tongue escaped him and brown eyes found themselves running over the shape of John’s lips.

John didn’t hear a word. Infatuation took a hold of his heart, keeping his pale eyes on Lucas’ face. Cheeks dusted pink, only a shade, or two, lighter than his lips. Wide eyes relaxing, lashes long and wavering.

There was a fear of breaking the porcelain face when John’s fingertips brushed a small bit of ice from Lucas’ cheek. His smile was an answer enough, fingers drifting away from the rosy cheekbone but stopping short at his jaw. Lucas stayed frozen, breath hitching noticeably but John didn’t acknowledge it.

He tipped the boy’s head up just slightly, studying those smooth pink lips. They were too attention grabbing and John really couldn’t help himself.

“Do you trust me?”

The worried frown on Lucas’ melted, lips tugged up into a small smile. Brows settled, no longer furrowed. Eyes shone. His own words used against him; there was no way he could be mad with John’s lazy smile.

He managed a short nod. “Yes.” A word breathed so lightly he didn’t know if John heard it. But he was understood.

John’s fingers drew him down.

In comparison to the iciness of the air in their lungs, the breath they shared was warm between their lips. The kiss was timid. Modest and slow – no rush; never any rush. Lucas was more than thankful for the patient pace. Truthfully, he had no idea what he was doing! But with the way his lips tingled and heart pounded, he thought he must have been doing something right.

A short breath through his nose, eyes rolling shut. He fit his lips firmly against John’s and sunk, forearms coming to rest on the ice either side of John’s head.

He would apologise for wetting Jon’s hoodie later.

Warm tingling between their lips spread to his cheeks. Down his neck, to his fingertips, all the way through his blood to his toes- A cold hand slipped up to settle on his hip and he let himself be pulled closer.

The feeling of John completely relaxing beneath him was incredible; lips to lips, chest to chest. Long hair splayed across the ice, head tipped back; his lips were soft and encouraging. He coaxed Lucas into the kiss slowly, lips moving against his slowly, fingers on his jaw raising slowly, carding through his hair slowly. He sighed, relaxed. Warm air washed over Lucas’ top lip.

The cold couldn’t even be felt. Whether it was their nerves going numb, or their bodies adjusting to how freaking cold it was, or whether it was the complete lack of space in their thoughts for anything other than the feeling of each other. Lucas wasn’t shivering. John’s fingers weren’t cold stiff.

Lucas was filled with warmth. Anticipation exploded in his lungs. The days he’d spent thinking about John’s lips, thinking about his kiss, how he’d feel, how he’d taste. It was all worth it, and it was almost painful to pull away, needing to breathe.

When he lifted, the cold was biting. It nipped at his tongue, at his throat, at the walls of his lungs and he couldn’t control the gasp of genuine shock when he sat upright. Numb fingertips rested on his bottom lip, unable to tell whether it was boiling or freezing. The contrast was scalding.

But it was addictive.

John pushed himself up. He didn’t flinch at the soaked hoodie that clung to his back, or how the two of them were chilled to the bone. He couldn’t feel it.

All he could focus on were those parted lips and rosy cheeks.

Neither noticed their odd situation as John curled his arm around Lucas’ back. Neither noticed the ice still soaking their legs. Neither noticed the dim room that shrouded them in silence and privacy.

John pulled Lucas against him, no space for the cold between them. A tilt of his head, a twitch of his smile. Cold fingers pulled Lucas’ hand away from his face and John sealed their lips together again.

Lucas wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Of course, it definitely wasn’t how he expected any of it to happen: sitting on John’s lap in the middle of a closed ice rink, fingers tugging very lightly on his hair with the gentle touch of a hot tongue coaxing his lips apart.

Lucas found himself realising what addiction really felt like, but the craving that flowed through his bloodstream was one he never wanted to be clean from.

Torturously though, he was only allowed a taste. John pulled away, albeit reluctant, and Lucas was grateful to find the punk’s eyes just as wide as his. Pupils dilated, they mirror those of the boy in his lap, who could only blink in disbelief, heart racing. “Woah.” Fingers untangled themselves from dyed hair.

John swallowed, licking his lips. “Yeah.” His smile glowed in the darkness. “I know.”

They stayed there for another moment, taking it all in. John’s eyes glimmered, even prettier than before as he examined Lucas’ face. His parted lips, shining as he ran his tongue over them. His eyes, pupils large and irises dark. Those flushed pale cheeks, long eyelashes, the line of his jaw.

Lucas couldn’t look anywhere other than John’s eyes.

Blue. Green. A shade of something in-between.

Even then he couldn’t tell. Even with his hands on John’s shoulders, feeling his breath on his lips, sitting pressed up against him.

The hand resting on Lucas’ thigh squeezed, pulling that dark gaze to his little smile. “You all good?” he whispered, the silence having crystallised around them. There was no need to break it, feeling it cold against his cheekbones. It held them still, held them together.

Lucas watched for a second longer, flecks of pale green in splashes of clear. He swallowed. A distracted smile. “’m fine,” he murmured back. “Better than fine: I’m great. This is, uh…” His lashes fluttered as John lifted a hand, pushing the brown hair from his face. His smile broadened, warmth glowing in his chest. “- This is great.”

“Good.” Ringed fingers were reluctant to drop away completely and Lucas didn’t feel shy under the cool gaze anymore. He let pretty eyes wander the arches of his face, not flinching as a gentle thumb brushed along his cheekbone. John’s contemplation showed in the arch of his lips. “Wanna call yourself my boyfriend?”

If the punk was searching for signs of a negative or positive reaction to the question, Lucas wasn’t hard to read. His lips pulled back in a grin, eyes pushed half closed from his cheeks. A small laugh drifted on his exhale and it was too hard to find the right words. He settled for a small: “Yes,” loving the way the dimple in John’s cheek deepened. “Yes. Yeah. I, er- I’d love that.”

Their moment lingered in a softer silence: silence because the glowing happiness that they floated on couldn’t have been expressed in words. It was seen in their smiles, the pinkness of their cheeks, the sparkles in their eyes.

“Well, I’m super happy ‘nd all,” John started, silence falling away slowly, “but my ass hurts, my legs hurt, I’m completely drenched and… uhh…” His eyes dropped to the limited space between them, Lucas looking down, too, to where he was still sat comfortable on John’s lap.

He blinked in realisation. “Oh! Shit, sorry!”

John only smiled. He took Lucas’ hands, holding them steady and murmuring a count-of-three to coordinate the both of them. John pushed up, Lucas hauling himself back onto his skates. He slid back, catching his balance, and did a small circle around his date to readjust his shaky legs to the slippery ice.

John looked to his outstretched feet. “Uhh…” Eyes lifting to Lucas’ cheeky smile, he sighed, pushing himself over onto his hands and knees. Now he was definitely feeling the cold… With a small bit of difficulty, he got one skate beneath him, slipping back and forth. Lucas swooped in, catching a hold of his arm and helping him up onto his blades again.

John’s hands locked around Lucas’ arm and the younger boy couldn’t remove the amused smile from his face. The giggle dropped with his words. “You okay there, Bud?”

John’s legs wobbled dangerously, responding for him. He didn’t let go of Lucas’ arm and the look on the Canadian’s face showed he really didn’t mind, still patient. John breathed in deeply. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good.” Exhale. “Let’s get off this damn ice before I fall again and break my neck.”

An awkward shuffle off the rink and stiff hobbling to get back to the bench with their stuff: John only let go of Lucas when he was sat down, leaning back against the wall with his eyes shut. A quiet groan of complaint slipped through his chapped lips and Lucas watched with amusement dancing in his eyes as the punk stretched and winced. He hadn’t been so lucky with their fall, a few nasty bruises likely to show up within the next day or two.

When his eyes opened to look at his boyfriend, they filled with hope and pleading. “Can you take off my shoes for me?” he asked, cheesy smile on his face. Lucas scoffed. “Pleeease?”

The brunette rolled his eyes. “I’m not going near your feet. I can smell ‘em from here.” He tugged off his gloves, cloth soaked through, and pulled the laces of his skates free.

Weight sagged against him, a head falling to rest on his shoulder. He grunted, blowing thin blonde hair from his face. “Pleeeeease?” John cooed, lips too close to Lucas’ ear. He threw an arm around him, pulling him close and sharing more cold wetness than body heat with the small boy. Lucas pushed down his blush.  

John’s breath against his ear had to be some form of torture.

Keeping himself steady and casual (and ignoring the racing of his heart) he leant out of John’s hold, the heavy arm falling away from his shoulder, and ignored the knowing grin on the punk’s face. “Alright, alright. Shut it already,” he mumbled, finding it much easier to breathe when John sat upright again, off his shoulder. He pulled at the straps of John’s boots, yanking them off his feet, and kicked of his own skates too. Sitting back up, he feigned a pout. “Happy now?” he asked.

Fingertips under his chin froze him still, pout melting. His heart fluttered at John’s grin. “Very.” John met him halfway and Lucas melted against him.

A taste too addictive to resist.

-

parts: [ i ] - [ ii ] - [ iii ] - [ iv ] - [ v ] - [ vi ] - [ vii ] - [ viii ] - [ ix ] - [ x ] - [ xi ] - [ xii ] - [ xiii ] - [ xiv ] - [ xv ] - [ xvi ] - [ xvii ] - [ xviii ] - [ xix ] - [ xx ] - [ xxi ] - [ xxii ] - [ xxiii ] - [ xxiv ] - [ xxv ]

art credit: @pastel-trashtel

-

note: im so glad. i got this finished.

omg

im so sorry about the massive wait - im gonna try my best to get my ass back into gear. it might take me a little while? updates might be slow. im really trying to get through some shit and i need to sort out my studying too

but i will finish this story. even if it takes me to damn december to do it!

thanks a lot for the wait, i hope you guys enjoy the major fluffy cuteness in this chapter. 

gi

[ladyvalruvik]

[seorichie]

idek

[sunsetcurveofficial]

punk!dan & pastel!phil

(requested by anonymous)

[chinxino5-blog]

Cute  [ xxiv ]

h2ovanoss fic - punk!pastel! highschool au warnings: emotional scene, mental breakdown, “broken” character, hurt/comfort, mentions/recount of hate-driven violence. 4915 words part twenty-four

24.

It took ten minutes of Lucas’ silly giggling and persuasion until Jon gave in, tugging off his own clothes to be replaced with whatever Lucas shoved in his direction. Each time Jon pulled something off, he turned away. Lucas with his head in the closet never took notice and continued piling clothes on the bed or on the floor, chatting away like nothing had changed.  

He’d dropped at least fifteen closet jokes before an hour had passed and had put together three proper outfits for the week. Their playing around had lead to a bit of distraction, Lucas throwing any random outfit he could find at his friend. He dressed him in every style possible with his choices and never stopping smiling and laughing at the mess they created.

There was a disorganised pile of “throw away” clothes that Jon no longer wanted and by the time Lucas got back on track for the last two outfits for the week, the two were laughing like there hadn’t been a single thing wrong to begin with. No bruises. No disappearing. No silence.

It was alright. Jon was alright! That’s what Lucas told himself until Jon was sitting back on the bed. He turned around with a cropped hoodie and a pair of high-waisted jeans for the boy to consider, a fourth outfit for the week ahead.

Jon’s face fell. “No crops,” he said and Lucas frowned.

“But you look so cute in them? Your tummy will also be a distracting feature from the makeup, y’know!”

The atmosphere dulled and the grimace on Jon’s lips told him bad news was imminent. “Not a good idea.” Pale fingers lifted the baggy shirt Jon had pulled back on and Lucas kicked himself for not noticing the small habits of discretion. Turning away when undressing even though they’d spent days hanging out in only underwear in the past, pulling shirts down even when they showed nothing, moving slow when bending at the middle or straightening back up.

The skin of his stomach wore the same colouration of his throat and in his shame, Jon dropped his shirt quickly. It didn’t do much. The image was stained to the insides of Lucas’ eyelids. Blue, purple, yellow, green. The smudges screamed agony.

They were more than just bruises. They were more than just the wounds of an ugly incident. They… Those who put them there put them there for a reason. There was purpose beneath every layer, beneath every hateful touch that aimed to bring nothing other than pain and grief and suffering. ‘Ugly bruises’ were the scars of torture, scars of a hate-driven beating. No guy could deliver such agony by himself and it chilled Lucas’ breath to think of his dear friend in such a situation.

Jon was always the happiest of his friends. He was someone who would find the most ridiculous presents for birthdays and sing karaoke of songs he’d never heard before just for the sake of making other people laugh and smile; just to be comedic. Any time anyone had tried to bring him down, he didn’t find it hard to completely ignore it or make it into some stupid joke. No one could touch him. No one.

When people were homophobic he laughed in their faces. When people tried to get to his friends he’d defend them with loud words and dumb jokes. When his friends were sad it never took him long to bring them back up with smiles on their faces and laughter on their tongues.

He was that kind of guy.

So to see him so… so broken…

Lucas blinked himself out of his thoughts, his friend adjusting his shirt anxiously and tipping his head down to hide his face.

“O-okay, that’s okay,” he choked out, turning back to the closet and tucking the hoodie back away where it no longer could be seen. He pulled out a bright yellow one, turning back and holding it up. “How about thi-”

Jon’s lip trembled. Blue eyes spilt tears down his cheeks, no strength left to restrain them. A sob escaped his broken throat. “I-I’m so-orry,” he rasped, unable to swallow his sobs down.

The hoodie was forgotten.

“L-Lou?” Jon hiccupped into his shoulder, mattress sinking as Lucas crawled up to him and wrapped him up in his arms. With careful pressure, he sat back and pulled Jon between his legs. That was all it took for those splintered walls to crumble. Thin fingers found fistfuls of Lucas’ shirt, black eyes closed and hiding in the safety beneath his chin.

His tears were hot and salty. They didn’t stop, catching on his collarbones as his hold around Jon’s frame tightened. “Don’t you say sorry once,” he said, gritting his teeth and willing his own emotions back. He wanted to be strong for Jon, he needed to be strong for this boy he’d call a brother. It just wasn’t possible when someone so untouchable was shattering in his arms. “Don’t- Don’t you fucking apologise, okay? You hear me?”

It felt similar to trying to hold a glass pane together with bare hands, having Jon break down, sobbing into his chest. Keeping him together, keeping him in place; it was far too little, far too late.

Four days.

Four days had Jon been sitting in this bedroom, cradling a broken body and hiding a broken soul. How long had he spent crying? How long had he spent blaming the skin beneath each bruise for causing pain to his friends, to his moms.

Lucas couldn’t bear it. He’d spent too much time alone, too much time breaking, too much time taking blame for his own suffering. “You haven’t done a single thing wrong, okay? Listen to me, Jonny; you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I did!” Fingers were tight around the curves of Lucas’ shoulders, trying to get a grip on himself. Deep breaths, shaking as they rolled down Lucas’ neck with his tears. Deep breaths of, “You have to understand.” His forehead was heavy beneath Lucas’ chin. “I-I could have done s-s-something other than- than sitting here-”

Sob after sob crashed through the body against his chest. They shredded Jon’s words before they even left his mouth, doing anything to stop their escape. He didn’t have a voice. He wasn’t allowed a voice.

The first tear that slipped down Lucas’ cheek was both one of pain and one of pride. A week Jon had spent suffering in total silence in hopes of protecting his friends and now, as he crumbled against Lucas’ chest he fought to break that silence and try to explain himself. He was offered comfort, and love, and help, and how easy it would be to turn away and hide? Even broken and battered and beaten, he was stronger than that. He had always been strong. He was still strong. Lucas knew that.

Yet Jon saw his thin body and bruised skin as weak and pitiful and disgusting. He saw a mess that hid and a mess that could have done something more. He was blind. “You can’t think like that,” Lucas tried, but soft hair brushed back and forth along his jaw as Jon shook his head stubbornly.

“I have to!” He willed Lucas to see his words. “I… I’ve hurt you g-guys so much. I’ve… I’ve ignored you an-and just made you all worried and sa-ad. B-because I wanted to hide.” He spat the word with hatred, pollution on his tongue he couldn’t bear to taste any longer. “I’m s-so ffffucking pathetic.”

Arms around him tightened, Lucas’ face turning down to bury in his hair; hair that grew damp. “Don’t say that.” Jon shook his head. Lucas rocked back and forth slowly, arms painfully tight around his friend. It no longer mattered the dull pains on his outside. Nothing compared to his collapsing ribs and offbeat heart. He was broken. “Don’t fucking say that to yourself!”

“It’s true-!”

“Shut up, Jon!” Lucas drew his hands back, pushing Jon away from him and holding him at an arm’s length. Two pairs of eyes, shiny with tears. One bore cracks far too deep to heal. “Look at yourself!” His words were barely whispered. Disbelief. Shake of the head, tears no longer countable. “You don’t think you’re allowed to be hurt? You- You don’t think you’re allowed to hide!?” Jon shook his head harder, eyes closed as he tried to keep himself in. “Let yourself fucking cry!” A voice-crack. A soft whine. Jon gasped in a short breath, eyes quivering when they opened. Lucas’s hold on his arms tightened. “What did they fucking do to you?”

Jon didn’t look away from him. His blue eyes held a mix of different edges of pain. Hatred for himself, for his skin, for his voice. Agony of what his skin wore, of the tattooed words that ran through his head every day, spoken from those awful tongues. Loss of pieces of himself, shards of glass buried in carpet. He couldn’t control himself, couldn’t control his thoughts or feelings, the shaking of his hands, his breath, his unsettled heart. He shook his head, face crumpling as he tried his best to bite back the pain.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, hands grasping Lucas’ shirt again in hopes to stop their shaking. “Th-they…” Inhale. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to be drawn closer and accepting the forehead coming to rest on his shoulder. “There were three of them. A-and… It was Kyle, he-… he broke my b-bow an-and-” Fingers tightened around cloth, teeth biting split lips until they bled “C-called me slurs… m-made fun of you guys, an-and made fun o-of Evan too… H-he-” A whine left his lips, words running out. He only had so many. He turned his face into the side of Lucas’ head, hair against his closed eyes and tight lips.

Lucas held him.

“I’m here.” Running a hand up and down his back, pressing a hard kiss to his shoulder. “I’m here for you.”

“H-he punched me. F-ffface, throat, tummy; h-he hit me so many times- Th-they didn’t s-stop and… fuck-” He choked out a sob, stopping and holding himself still. He pushed on. “I wa-alked home. A-and didn’t t-t-tell anyone… I fffucking hid from everyone!”

The anger returned, hot and spiteful. Lucas shook his head.

“I did!” A sniff. A yank on his shirt. Listen to me! “I d-didn’t text anyone for days an-and made you guys w-worry about me and- and- and look at me; I’m a fucking mess. I’m selfish and st-stupid and-”

“Jon, please.”

“-I’m not even strong enough to- to text you and t-t-tell you that I’m okay, I’m weak!”

“Jon…” Lucas whimpered.

“I made y-you worry, and Brock and E-Evan and- and everyone! I didn’t let Mom help ei-ither and they were f- ffffighting over me being such a- such a fucking bitch about it. I let them beat me up and w-walk away and- and it would have been better for everyone if I had- had just f-fuckin’-”

“Jon!” Lucas shouted. His voice silenced Jon’s, sobs overtaking his tongue, dragging themselves up and out of his throat over and over again. They threw his broken body forward and forward, face falling to hide in shame. “Don’t you fucking say that. Don’t you ever fucking say that again. I…” His breath was shaking, drawing back and pulling Jon to his chest once again. Lips to Jon’s hair he gathered himself. “You’re the strongest person I know, the most resilient person I know. If this didn’t break you? Fucking Hell, Jon, you’d have to be ice-cold. They tortured you, Jon-”

“I-it’s not that bad-”

“Look at yourself! Look at these bruises, how many fucking times did he hit you?” A shake of the head. Lucas softened. “You hid to protect yourself, to protect Alice and Ri, to protect us! How does that make you weak? You’re a fuckin’ idiot for trying to fight this on your own but that’s the absolute opposite of weak, Jon. That makes you so strong! You’ve always been so fucking strong!”

His collarbone was slick with tears, Jon voicelessly shaking. The only sounds he made were small sobs, feeling them roll through his body like waves.

“No one had any idea what you went through and still, no one is upset with you.” Lucas’ own shaking calmed. He felt it pass over, feeling control come back to him as he collected himself. He swayed slowly back and forth, Jon curled up in his lap holding onto him like it was his last option, like if he let go he would lose everything. “We love you. Brian, Brock, Suni and Craig? Scotty and me? We all love you so fucking much, okay? Nothing will change that. Nothing can change that, nothing’s strong enough.

“You’ve been hurt really bad. And it hurts to know that but it hurts more to know you’ve been keeping it all locked away in yourself and slowly burning yourself to death with this blame. It will hurt them to know too! But you know they will be here for you in a second; any one of them would be doing this, holding you and saying what I’ve been saying if they were in my place.”

Slowly. It was slow and gradual, like the tide lowering again. His sobs lessened, quietened. They no longer plagued each breath or ripped from his throat. The grip of his fingers on Lucas’ shirt found a subconscious relaxation. They held on but not so tightly. Blood flowed.

“I love you so much, Jonathon. So fucking much, okay?” He ran a hand through the boy’s hair, feeling him sniffle, tears still flowing. “You mean the world to me, and more, and you’ve been through so damn much. Listen to me, okay?” He trailed his hand up and down Jon’s back. “You’re gonna come to school tomorrow, make up’s gonna hide most of it and I’ll steer you away from hassle. Do you want to tell the others?”

“Not yet.” A quiet whisper, timid but reaching for calmness.

“Okay. Well I’ll help you brush off any questions. You’ll wear these cute ass outfits, strut your stuff and make Evan cry about how hot you are, and just get through the day.” Slow nodding. Lucas continued to rock back and forth, fingers dragging through unkempt hair. “Stay with someone at all times; they’ll still be at school. Keep an eye out. Spend time with Evan because you know he won’t ask questions and he’ll also kick ass for you.”

A little huff of laughter. Lucas smiled.

It took much longer for his tears to stop than all the rest of it but they did. Lucas trailed off talking about what he should do with Evan, and how once the bruises were faded they should all get together – punks and pastels – and go swimming in Brian’s pool. Jon’s bruised eyes left trails of salt, skin tingling where tears had left tracks, but dry. When Jon crawled out of Lucas’ lap, he found another two outfits and set them all aside for Jon. They put on music for the last half hour and Jon couldn’t avoid Lucas’ cheerful pull, dancing with him and laughing until the tears were something forgotten.

It was all a part of healing. That’s what Jon was doing. He spent half a week trapped away with only himself and his bruises and he had a week ahead of him to see his friends and surround himself with their love and care.

It was all healing.

When Lucas left, he hugged Jon tightly, kissing his cheek and squeezing his hands. “I love you,” he promised his friend a million times over, avoiding the dismissive laughing and pale-handed swatting until he had his friend murmuring the same words back into his chest. Jon left him at the top of the stairs and made Lucas promise to call him the moment he was home from his date, before Lucas locked himself out and rushed home, pink hoodie under his arm.

-

The hoodie looked perfect with the jeans, a bit warm beneath the sun but snug and comfy for the cold of the ice-skating rink, Lucas knew. His hands were warm in little gloves, black and soft to touch both inside and out. It was a fact that he looked cute, something he was aware of and happy about but not an asshole.

His Momma had raised him on self-love and he found no reason to reject it.

But no matter how cute, he couldn’t help feeling nervous.

He found John waiting outside, leaning against the wall in ripped jeans, a black hoodie and a longer white shirt underneath. The sun was warm on Lucas’ back when he hurried across the parking-lot but he barely noticed it the second pale eyes landed on him, lips lifting in a slight but genuine smile at the sight of the boy.

Lucas totally didn’t trip over the curb in his hurry, not at all too busy gazing at the punk to watch where his feet were. Thankfully, it wasn’t mentioned when he was within speaking range of his date, smiling shyly at the knowing twinkle in pretty pale eyes.

“Hey John,” he said, putting far too much effort in keeping his voice stable and smooth. The punk pushed off the wall, tucking his vape pen into his pocket and not bothering to hide the way he dropped his eyes down Lucas’ legs and back up to his shocked face. “Huh?” Self-conscious fingers itched at rosy cheeks.

A quirk of teeth-worried lips and eyes sparkled, reading the words across Lucas’ chest. “The hoodie’s cute.” Tone confident and lazy; John didn’t let the moment linger, glancing over his shoulder to the info-board and bright blue name of the ice rink. Those pale eyes returned to Lucas and dropped to the two white boots he held onto. “Not gonna lie; didn’t expect the ice rink.”

Was it a mistake? Did he not like it? Lucas felt worry creep into his thoughts, running a hand through his hair. A timid nod.

“Well,” he said, tugging his fingers through his long hair, “I’ve never been skating in my life. So expect the worst.”

“I’ll help you.”

Lucas’ eyes held eager hope and John’s were sceptical. The punk huffed a sigh but his teasing smile remained. “Yeah, we’ll see. Ready then?”

Rings were cold between Lucas’ gloved fingers and he lead John into the lobby of the rink. The familiar wave of cold air washed over the two of them and a smile lit his face. Childish excitement he couldn’t help. “Good morning!” A cheerful voice and an old face, familiar too. When distracted eyes lifted from a computer screen they widened with recognition and joy to see the two boys standing at the desk. “Lucas? Honey, it’s been so long!” she cooed and brown eyes fell in bashful greeting.

“Hey Aggie, how’ve you been?” he asked, the woman looking overjoyed just to see his face. He pushed thirty dollars onto the counter and she tapped away on the keyboard.

It was like his appearance had taken ten years off her age and Lucas felt a warmth in his chest to see her again. “I’ve been lovely, dear! I’ve been good. How are you? Is this your boyfriend? He’s so handsome, so very handsome!” And just like that, his cheeks were pink and the hand in his felt even warmer.

Lips parted to correct her didn’t get their chance. “It’s nice to meet you, Ma’am. My name’s John.” Voice smooth and gentle on the ears. Old grey eyes filled with adoration and Lucas directed a surprised glance up to the boy beside him, receiving a warm smile in return. He didn’t question it.

“I’ve been good. Though I’ve missed skating and I wanted to show John my second home.” His humour held truth, known by all three of them as the woman reached up, taking his hand when he put down his skates and offered it to her.

“Well, good thing we’re having quiet hours, hey? This session will go for an hour, but how abouts you two stick around? You can have an extra thirty minutes to yourselves on the ice if you’d like. I owe it to you, love; no charge. Only the promise that you’ll be back again soon.” Her words were hushed, others in the room not caring for their discussion.

The fingers curled tighter in his and Lucas couldn’t drown the glow of his smile. “Aggie, are you sure?” Her hasty nodding didn’t need much else, squeezing his hand with two of hers and lines of age crinkling with her sparkling eyes. “Thank you so much,” he said and she nodded again, placing the tickets in his hand and letting him go.

“You boys go in. Have your fun and keep it PG with the kids in there.” Her wink was teasing and a light-hearted giggle left her lips at Lucas’ red face.

“We will, Miss. Thank you.” John spoke for him, tugging Lucas to the door. They shared a smile, one shy and one reassuring. Excitement buzzed between their locked fingers.

Once sat on a bench, one pair of professional skates and one pair of rented ones before them, Lucas breathed in deeply. Adoration for the place swelled in his heart, fingers automatically loosening his laces as his dark eyes scanned the room. The lights were bright overhead, the boundary of the rink freshly repainted. The benches had been moved around, colour of the mats changed from green to blue. The small changes here and there didn’t make much of a difference. Everything his gaze fell upon was a reminder of his childhood. Even the smell of the artificial ice had his heart fluttering.

John watched him, eyes gentle. Silence. Comfortable. The young look on the pretty boy’s face was hard to turn away from. Then Lucas dropped his gaze to the boots. Gloves reached for John’s, easily and speedily unbuckling them and opening them up. He didn’t need to instruct the punk who mimicked him in fitting his feet into the heavy shoes.

Lucas broke the silence, words soft as he watched John stomp his feet up and down in the unbuckled boots, toying with the weight. “So, boyfriend, hey?” The cold air kept his delivery smooth. John didn’t look phased, meeting Lucas’ stare with a small twinkle in his eye.

“Guess we’ll have to see how today goes.” A simple, nonchalant comment that even the icy rink couldn’t save Lucas from.

His whole face lit aflame, turning away at the feeling of his heart slamming against his ribs.

He decided that maybe just not acknowledging John’s comments was the best way to go.

The laces of his boots were thick, slipping between his gloved fingers. They cradled his feet snugly when he stood, rocking from side-to-side carefully to make sure they were fitted right. Even just having the skates back on his feet gave him a sense of nostalgia and anticipation fluttered beneath his skin at the thought of being out on the ice.

“Having trouble?” he offered, kneeling in front of the punk and giggling at the bewildered look on his face. His hands were already on the rented shoes and tightened the plastic buckles. “You tell me if they get painful or uncomfortable and I’ll fix ‘em, but they’ve gotta be tight so you don’t damage your ankles, got it?”

Slow nodding, eyes a mix of somewhere between blue and green glancing at the rink which already held a couple of kids. Not a single one looked older than the age of ten. “Is this one of those things where it’s way harder than it looks?” His date bit his lip, hiding a knowing smile behind a shrug.

“You can decide that. C’mon, it’s been too long since I’ve been on ice,” he breathed, loving the taste of cold on his tongue as he grabbed John’s hands. “Be careful, don’t take big steps.” John’s weight was vastly unbalanced as he wobbled to his feet, shuffling after Lucas who walked backwards with ease. His smile didn’t leave his face, squeezing those hands. At the door, John was looking positively worried, an odd expression to see on the punk who wasn’t usually one to show anything more than indifference. “Don’t stress. There are five-year-old’s, you’ll get it fine.”

He stepped in first, gliding back a little bit and still holding onto John as the punk took a cautious step forward. “Woah.” He snatched up Lucas’ other hand once again, other skate on the ice too as he wavered dangerously. “I’m gonna fall.”

“No you’re not!” A giggly laugh spilt onto the ice as Lucas carefully glided backwards, bringing them away from the entrance. John didn’t lift his eyes from the ice, posture rigid and terrified. “Okay, calm breaths. Here; hold onto the sides.” Shaking hands dropped to the bar that ran along the edges of the rink. “You wanna keep your knees bent and stay a bit forward. If you lean back, you’ll fall, okay?” Lucas demonstrated for the boy, squatting a little to exaggerate his words and shifting his balance back and forth. “Feet apart too. The closer they are together the less balance you’ll have. Trust me.” He showed the punk how to angle his feet.

His mini-introduction went on for a few more minutes, explaining how to move and turn and stop to make it easier for the boy. All the while, he continued sliding back while John shuffled forwards after him, hands heavy on the support bar.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to do this.” John gave a shaky smile to Lucas. “M’not this coordinated.”

Lucas stopped the boy with open hands, sliding forward into his space. “John.” Careful as to not worry his date, he leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his lips, lingering and holding him steady by his arms. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? We’ve got more than an hour. You’ll get used to it and we’ll get you skating soon, okay? Just keep comin’ around the edge until you’re used to the ice.”

Concentration too high for words, he received a short nod and smiled. The punk was breathing noticeably slower, seeming calm.

“Relax,” he urged, tapping John’s chest until his shoulders loosened and his posture no longer mimicked a metal rod. “I’m gonna go for a couple of laps and get used to it myself, is that alright?” he offered, wanting to get his energy out but not wanting to leave John feeling unsafe.

Pale eyes rolled, feigning confidence that Lucas knew he didn’t have. “I’ll be fine for five minutes, dumbass. Go have fun.”

He flashed a grateful smile before spinning on his skates and pushing off. A wobble accompanied his balance, getting used to the slippery ice as he weaved between kids and adults, movements swift and easy. He followed the curves, crossing his legs over gracefully with one hand tucked behind his back.

The smile on his face went unnoticed by him for the few laps he sped around, dancing on his skates as everything came back to him. Icy cold touched at his lungs, each breath filling them with chilling air. Any stress or worry washed out with it and he couldn’t help falling in love with each glide. His circuit shortened with each lap, coming to circle the few in the middle that practiced spinning and twirling away from the other skaters.

It had been a long few years. That was for sure. But it felt like nothing had ever been missing as he glided back to the boy he adored, the boy who watched him with an unreadable expression.

“Sorry,” he breathed as soon as he was beside him. It was automatic to take one of his hands, slowly gliding backwards while drawing the other forward along the rail. “I haven’t been here in years.”

John’s smile was nothing less than content as he shook his head. “Wow, you really are Canadian.”

That earnt a scoff and rolled eyes, Lucas dropping the hand he held. “Fine, I’ll just leave you here.” A childish pout, he turned and slid forward as if leaving his date.

“N-no! Don’t leave me!” John blurted out and Lucas beamed, glancing back.

“No?”

A wobbly smile, concentrated brows furrowed as he tried to glide towards Lucas as smoothly as possible (not very smoothly at all). “I’m sorryyy,” he whined, Lucas not saying a word as he waited. John’s hands were gentle, grabbing onto his arm and stopping himself from falling flat on his face.

It was curious to see John acting a little different, face showing his indiscreet concern for himself. He wore more of his personality in his voice, something Lucas loved to see. It was personal; more than Lucas was used to seeing at school.

It was pretty.

John was pretty. Lucas knew that. Lucas thought it a lot, really; especially when looking at the punk and seeing the prettiness in his split lips and eyes that looked different colours each time he looked into them.

The overwhelming want to kiss the punk filled his thoughts and he bit each one back. He was content with the hands in his, seeing the smile on split lips and vulnerability in pretty eyes.

For now, he was teaching John to skate. Anything else? He could wait.

-

parts: [ i ] - [ ii ] - [ iii ] - [ iv ] - [ v ] - [ vi ] - [ vii ] - [ viii ] - [ ix ] - [ x ] - [ xi ] - [ xii ] - [ xiii ] - [ xiv ] - [ xv ] - [ xvi ] - [ xvii ] - [ xviii ] - [ xix ] - [ xx ] - [ xxi ] - [ xxii ] - [ xxiii ] - [ xxiv ] - [ xxv ]

art credit: @pastel-trashtel​

-

note: yo! back from camping. i, uh... sorry? about the first part of this one?? but i mean, you’re welcome as well because you may hate me for it but dont deny you loved seeing lucas being the literal best human being alive and poor jon deserved to have a good breakdown.

all will be okay. a few more sad bits? but he’s healing <3 

my sweet boy. gonna pretend i didnt start crying when writing this scene, and also i didnt start crying again just now while i was editing it.

you have no proof

i hope soft krii7y times help you wipe away your tears guys. im tryna fix this shit pls dont hate me.. hate kyle :D

i’ll see how i go writing in the next week. i’ve er..... got a lot to do...... that i probably wont do...... but my next job is to finish this h2ovanoss angst request, then c.25, then another request so we’ll see how everything goes, okay? i’ll hopefully be posting one thing or another next weekend ^^

thanks for your patience! hope you enjoy! let me know what you’re enjoying most about it all! 

gi

[chinxino5-blog]

Cute  [ xxii ]

h2ovanoss fic - punk!pastel! highschool au warnings: small mentions of injuries, small mentions of low self-esteem 3691 words part twenty-two

note: massive apology for the wait and the quality of this chapter. im kinda dissatisfied but it’s taken so long, i’m fine with uploading a moderately slow chapter w several perspectives on the end of their week. 

22.

Despite the concerning absence of the brunette, the rest of Jon’s friends didn’t have the worst week. Suni teased and joked about how often Brian was on his phone, texting his ill boyfriend and smiling to himself. Lucas found himself bumping into John far too many times to be just coincidence. Scotty loved to spend lunches dreamily looking over to his lovers at their table. And Craig just settled knowing all of his friends were dumb as fuck.

Though it was hard to forget about the disappearance of Jon, the worried friends continued speaking to Evan here and there, messaging often for reassurance that he was all okay and safe. There wasn’t heaps of information the punk could give them but he told them what he could. To him, the simple reassurance that he could spend time on the phone with the silent boy and provide him with that small bit of company he shied away from was enough.

It wasn’t like he complained either: Jon was more than happy to listen to that gentle voice in the evenings, curled up in bed to protect bruises no one knew about.

It was a miracle on Thursday when Evan convinced Jon to speak to Brock. There was a timidness about it at first, apologising for his disappearance, apologising for not texting him but Brock, the supportive friend he always was, brushed every word off and just reminded the boy that he loved him and he wanted to know that he was okay.

The rest of them found it easier to relax by then, knowing he wasn’t totally cut off from them. They focused on each other during school, teasing and poking fun to make it seem like nothing was different. With reassurance that he would be back the following week, they didn’t need to worry.

“Did he send you another dick-pic?” The girl grinned with her chin on her hands, watching Brian smile at his phone.

“Fuck off, Suni.”

“Have you even kissed him yet?” she continued, ignorant to his irritation.

His middle finger faced her and she giggled. “None o’ yer business.”

“He hasn’t.” Craig blew a kiss to his glaring friend.

“Get lost, you pricks!”

He threw his plastic fork at Suni who laughed and threw it back. Lucas just rolled his eyes, noticing the hearts in Scotty’s baby-blues as he gazed across the room to the table with his girlfriend and boyfriend. The trio had already planned to hang out, Scotty having panicked after getting asked to go to Marcel’s house on the weekend.

He had vented to his friends, wondering what it meant, wondering what they were thinking of doing. When Suni jokingly guessed they were going to rock his night, he almost started hyperventilating until she assured him that that wouldn’t be the case. Craig said they were likely wanting to just play games and eat food and Lucas said he should bring lube just in case.

Brian spent the time in Brock’s absence asking regularly what he should do. Of course, the advice he thought he’d receive was the opposite of what they gave him; his friends varying in their ideas on different ways to ruin the two’s pure relationship. Craig was the only one who gave something genuine, being: “Just take him out on a date, sweep him off his feet and make him smile.”

It was enough to silence him, filling his head with thoughts and ideas and they all listened and laughed at his ridiculously over the top date plans. Though they teased him relentlessly, they couldn’t not be proud of their two friends. It was good to know they were so happy.

On the last day of the week, Lucas found himself sitting on the bleachers again, fingers curled around the metal bench as nerves chewed through his heart. He stared at the sky until he heard clicking and the soft sound of boots on metal until he felt someone else sit beside him. He kept his eyes closed. If he opened them, he’d lose courage.

John knew he had something to say and stayed silent, ever observant and patient.

“What are your weekend plans?” he bit out, the sun holding a gentle warmth.

A soft hum. Fingers running through long hair. “Nothin’ yet. Might go out with Marcel; dunno.”

“Would you wanna… wanna go do something on Sunday with me?” He blurted his words out in a rush, feeling them run onto one another. The moment they left his tongue, his lips pursed, too afraid to release the air in his lungs.

“As in a date?” Lucas nodded, eyes still scrunched shut. “What d’you wanna do?”

Not a yes. Not a no.

He clenched the metal tighter, not wanting to show the shaking of his hands. “It’s, er… I want it to be a surprise.”

John hummed softly in thought. Lucas let himself exhale, dropping his head and turning to the punk. Pale, curious eyes met his, unafraid of being caught. The smirk that played at his lips didn’t show any hint of disgust or discomfort. “As long as you aren’t going to cut off my fingers or feed me to any bears, I’d like to let you surprise me.”

A grin broke out across Lucas’ face and his heart slammed against his ribs. He dropped his head, laughing in relief, and let go of the metal. His fingers jittered as he lifted them up to his face and he shook his head. “Thank God,” he murmured and John watched his nervous actions with surprise and a twinge of worry.

He reached up, taking one shaking hand in his slowly enough for the shorter boy to pull away if he wanted to. He didn’t. But he did blush when warm ring-laden fingers intertwined with his. “You don’t gotta be so nervous,” he said, voice soft and accompanied with a smile that made Lucas’ heart leap.

“I know.” Practically a whisper. The serenity settled around them and he was too scared to break it. They stayed like that for a long few minutes, holding hands loosely. Neither needed to speak, neither needed anything else to fill the air they shared. The silence was gentle and they basked in the day’s warmth.

John didn’t break the peace as he pulled a pen from the front pocket of his bag, pulling Lucas’ hand to his lap and turning it to face upwards. Humming softly, Lucas relaxed to the feeling of the pen tip running along his skin, drawing little shapes and lines gently over the veins. He spent a few long minutes drawing over the expanse of the thin, pale wrist, and Lucas didn’t let himself look to it until John was capping the pen and loosely slipping his fingers away.

When he did, he couldn’t look away. Blue ink drew an intricate pattern over his milky white skin, much like a flower; growing outwards with every layer. He loved it, skin tingling still as he traced it with his eyes.

Along the crease of his wrist was a line of numbers followed by a small heart.

He sheltered his arm throughout the rest of the day, having walked to class with John’s arm around his waist and a smile on his lips. He refused to let a single spot of the art smudge and saved John’s number into his phone as soon as he got the chance in class. The moment he was home, he saved several photos of the pretty art onto his phone and got to texting the punk about Sunday.

-

Friday, 14:23.

Lucas -> John

Lucas: hey its me

Lucas: lucas

Lucas: so i live at ** ******** come to mine on sunday @ 10am if thats not too early

Lucas: and we can go then

John: still not convinced you arent going to chop up my fingers to sell on the black market or smth

John: idk man its pretty suss

Lucas: :3c guess youll have to take the risk then huh

John: :]]]]]]]]]] guess so

Lucas: //0-0\\

John: ¯\_(⊙︿⊙)_/¯

Lucas: ٩๏̯͡๏)۶

John: ٩(｡͡•‿•｡)۶

Lucas: โ๏௰๏ใ ื

John: ლ(ಠ益ಠლ)

Lucas: ﴾͡๏̯͡๏﴿ O'RLY?

John: ¯\(ºдಠ)/¯

Lucas: ok we need help

John: (´◉◞౪◟◉) what do you mean

John: (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ theres no problem here

Lucas: o m g

John: ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)

Lucas: blocked

Lucas: u dont get my surprise anymore

John: ((((゜д゜;))))

John: (ღˇ◡ˇ)~♥ take my love

Lucas: /╲/\╭ºoꍘoº╮/\╱\

John: i take my love back

John: fuck that

Lucas: (•⊙ω⊙•)

-

Jon continued to text Evan over the final days of the week. Despite the guilt that sat heavy beneath his bruises, he allowed the other to keep him company. It was impossible not to enjoy listening to the punk talk in the evenings, texting him questions here and there while pretending he wasn’t hurting with each and every breath.

But the two days had a dramatic improvement as his bruising began to fade and his throat hurt less and less. All throughout Friday he was trying his best to get his voice to return to him and restrengthen. It wasn’t enough to speak aloud during his call with Evan that night. But with the weekend upon him he relaxed, having two more days to get better and hopefully no one to bother him.

Until Lucas texted.

-

Saturday, 8:19.

Lucas -> Jon

Lucas: hey jon i know you arent well and you’re not texting anyone

Lucas: i miss you a lot and hope you feel better soon btw

Lucas: but could i like,, come over and get your pink hoodie?

Lucas: bc i dont have anything cute to wear as well as good for ice-skating and john and i are going ice skating so i need something

Lucas: but I get it if you want to stay by yourself, id love to see u and catch up

Jon: hi lucas

Jon: youre going on a date?

Jon: u might be able to come over on sunday to get the hoodie

Jon: if u want

Lucas: jon!! yes i really wanna see u

Jon: you just

Jon: cant make a big deal

Lucas: huh?

Jon: promise me you wont ask heaps of questions

Jon: please

Lucas: jon of course

Lucas: if you dont wanna talk about something we dont have to

Lucas: i just wanna see u

Jon: ok

Jon: i miss you too

Lucas: thanks jon

Lucas: love you

Jon: <3

-

Jon thought about it as he spent the day back in his bedroom, Alice having cleaned up and bleached his carpet. He didn’t complain about the faint smell of chemicals and his mothers left him home alone for the day, going out to a friend’s wedding.

He forced himself to get up several times, walking around his room and to the bathroom and back. His legs shook after days of having not left his bed but he needed to be able to walk when he returned to school. He couldn’t afford to stay home for any longer.

And seeing Lucas… He had to. It was smarter to be talking to his friends before Monday or it would all be far more of a big deal. Plus… he missed his friend. He missed all of them.

The day was a painful one for the weakness in his legs, and it was the same for his throat. Reading aloud, speaking to himself, singing along to music he played in his room. Knowing Evan would be wanting to call him that evening, he wanted to speak to the boy. So when his voice was hoarse from stress in the afternoon, the healing cuts on his lips split when he smiled.

He could speak. With difficulty, he could manage a hoarse voice and that was good enough for him. The swelling had gone down a bit, though still tender to touch and painful to use. The blackening had faded to blues and greens, patches of yellow growing over it with time. And although it was healing, it wasn’t healing fast enough to go unnoticed.

He just hoped it would be gone by the Monday.

-

Saturday, 12:23.

Marcel -> Simone, and Scotty

Marcel: u all good to come to mine tnight?

Simone: ya

Simone: @ 4?

Marcel: yup. home alone so u can stay the night if u want

Simone: yess

Scott: yeah okay

Simone: you okay w that scooter?

Scott: um yes

Scott: what are we gonna be doing?

Marcel: depends. u any good at mario kart?

Scott: ohhh

Scott: fuck yeah i am

Marcel: ha

Marcel: we’ll see abt that tnight then

Simone: you fuckboys have no idea what you’re up against

Simone: I’m gonna sweep the floor with you losers.

Marcel: all bark and no bite

Marcel: im the real competition

Scotty: pfft

Scotty: we’ll see

Simone: all u’ll be seeing is my ass in first place

Marcel: bulllshit

Scotty: yeah yeah

Scotty: all bark and no bite?

Simone: NO

Marcel: definitely ;)

Simone: >:( you guys are gonna eat your fkn words

-

Hearing Evan’s voice soothed Jon’s rampant thoughts in seconds. “Hi Jay.” Soft. Tired. Jon stretched out, phone beside his head as he laid on his back and stared up at his ceiling. A smile lifted at his lips at the greeting, picking up the soft sigh from the Canadian and closing his eyes. He cleared his throat.

“Hey Ev.” It was impossible not to flinch as the sharp edges of his words when they scraped through his swollen throat. He sounded in pain and he was, but there was no denying the small swell of pride that came with getting the words out in the first place.

It was a small achievement, but an achievement still.

The punk’s surprise was immediate but silent. He hadn’t been expecting to hear the boy’s voice in place of the little ping he received from a test message. A surprise; but pleasant, no doubt. Being the guy he was, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he let out a soft hum. “How are you feeling?” The words carried a special dose of gentleness and Jon’s heart was warm beneath his hand. There was no big deal, no fuss. There never was with Evan.

The nonchalance hovered alongside both of them. All they wanted was to spend the night listening to one another speak and breathe softly. “Better than I sound, trust­­­­­­­ me,” he got out and closed his eyes to Evan’s soft laugh.

“Good to hear. What have you been up to?”

The unattractive sounding of his voice remained unmentioned for the rest of their conversation, Jon texting for some of it just to savour what little he held in his voice-box. Evan didn’t ever complain or ask a thing about it. His patient smile could be heard around his vague questions and funny stories about the ridiculousness of his friends, never complaining about Jon’s laugh that came out as more of a wheeze than anything, never asking about what exactly caused him to flinch with every word.  

When lethargy was pulling at Jon’s eyelids and he was already cuddled up beneath his sheets, hugging a pillow to his chest, Evan spoke softer and breathed out his laughter when he got no other response from the boy he adored than soft, steady breathing.

A small whisper of, “Goodnight, Jay-Jay,” that remained unheard, before the soft click of the phone and he left the sleeping boy to his gentle dreams.

-

“Hey Brocky, how’re ye feelin’?” The phone was warm to Brian’s shoulder as he flicked on the lights and turned on the two taps at the tub. He dropped a dollop of soap beneath the pouring water and watched white bubbles form and rise with excitement.

A sleepy yawn reached through the speaker. “Tired,” he murmured, lifting a smile on Brian’s lips. The word ‘cute’ drifted through the Irish boy’s mind and he put his boyfriend on speaker, pulling off his shirt. He heard him sniffle as he shed his clothing, testing the water and hearing the soft tune he hummed echo around the tiled room. “Jon’s been feeling better with each day which is great. He hasn’t let me call him yet but…” he trailed off slightly in thought, his concern heavy though he tried to hide it. “But Evan’s been speaking to him a lot and he says he’s been doing better! He messaged not long ago to say Jon was talking when they called tonight so that’s really good too, I guess. I’m just… just glad he’s not hiding from all of us, at least.”

A soft hum of agreement as the taps silenced and Brian sunk into the hot bubbly water. He settled his arms on the sides of the bathtub and sighed. “Try not t’ overt’ink it, love,” he said. The smell of vanilla filled his nose and he closed his eyes. “I know ye’re worried; we all are. But just keep talkin’ to him, yeah? He’ll be back at school on Monday and he’ll still be Jon, he’ll be okay. A’right?”

Silence trickled into the room and he knew the other boy was thinking hard. “Yeah, you’re right.” A heavy sigh. “Thank you. I get caught up thinking too much sometimes.”

Brian huffed, fond feeling tickling at his skin as the heat of the water seeped into his insides too. “I know, love. That’s why ’m here.” His accent dropped each word lazily, fingers dancing in the water as he shifted down further, propping his feet up on the other end of the tub. He had too long of a body to lay completely submerged but adored the simple feeling of the heat crawling up his neck and cool air tickling his feet. “Now tell me ‘bout you. Ye feelin’ okay?”

“I already said how I was feeling.” Slight confusion lifted with the steam.

“‘Tired’ isn’t a proper answer, Silly. What about yer spots? They goin’ down yet?” he sunk his arms below the water level, raising water to his face. The silence shied away from his humming on both his and his boyfriend’s end as he reached for soap and rubbed facewash into his skin.

The soft scribble of a pencil on paper could be heard, Brock finishing up some work or doodling or just filling a page with grey for no other reason than fiddling. “You’re the silly one,” was his quiet comment, but didn’t let the other have time to ask what he meant. “Yeah, they’re going down now. I didn’t think they would so quick but I got lucky, I think.”

“An’ yer fever?”

A very gentle scoff reached the bathing boy as he shifted forward and tipped his head back to soak his auburn hair. “Irritating but better than yesterday,” he answered, sounding amused. The sound of a page turning.

“Why do ye sound like tha’?” he asked, voice still cheerful and curious. His love didn’t seem sad, as much as he seemed a little bit vague but he knew there was something a little bit off about him. Something was bothering him.

“Sound like what?” Innocent and vague, as always. But there was a hint of teasing mixed in.

Brian smiled. “You know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout, Brocky. What’s up?”

Silence. He let his face fall to the water, ears above still to listen as he washed off the soap and cleaned off his face. When he sat back upright he reached for the shampoo and conditioner. Paper tore loudly and a dismissive hum.

“Nothing.” Short and simple, but easily a lie. Even Brock knew, sighing again and not even bothering to wait for Brian to prompt him. “I just don’t understand why you asked.” Simple again, but open ended.

Brian was patient, though his friends might agree such a feat was impossible. He gave a few seconds of calm silence. “Asked what?”

His admission struggled to emerge and his voice closed off, something Brian wasn’t entirely used to. “How I’m feeling.” His fingers paused in their circles as he rubbed shampoo into his scalp, a frown twisting at his lips. He waited, hoping Brock to elaborate and washed the white soap out as the boy did. “I don’t know why it’s important.”

The Irish boy couldn’t stop the laugh that dropped from his tongue, running his hand through his wet hair as he sunk below the surface of the water once again. He towelled his face dry and shook his head, although the boy didn’t see him. “Brock, baby, did ye forget that ye’re my boyfrien’?” he asked, teasing tone keeping the conversation light and cheerful, although genuine.

The boy let out an almost silent, “Mhm,” sounding timider than anything. Brian assumed it was because of the small pet-name but his concern was on Brock’s worries. It was clear that he didn’t understand why Brian cared, he didn’t understand why he was important to the boy that many found so attractive.

“It may come as a surprise, yeah?” A smile played on his words as the sound of water tinkling and splashing filled the bathroom, “but as yer boyfrien’, I do actually care about you.” He listened, a silence of distrust and uncertainty following the crumple of paper and a page turn. “I like knowing how yer day has been, and how you’re feeling. An’ when ye’re sick, I especially like t’know if ye are feelin’ better. I didn’ think that was too odd, do you?” The distrust seemed to fade with the following pause, no more scratching of pencils or flipping pages. “You still here, Brock?”

“Yeah. I am.” Page flip. Another one. Another. Then more scribbling. “I am feeling better, thank you. I’ll be able to be back on Monday.”

A grin on his lips. “Good. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” His shy smile could be heard. “I’ve gotta go now though. Sorry, Bri. Talk to you tomorrow night?”

“Of course, dear.” He reached forward and pulled the plug by his feet. “Goodnight, Brocky.”

“Night, Brian.”

Beep.

-

parts: [ i ] - [ ii ] - [ iii ] - [ iv ] - [ v ] - [ vi ] - [ vii ] - [ viii ] - [ ix ] - [ x ] - [ xi ] - [ xii ] - [ xiii ] - [ xiv ] - [ xv ] - [ xvi ] - [ xvii ] - [ xviii ] - [ xix ] - [ xx ] - [ xxi ] - [ xxii ] - [ xxiii ] - [ xxiv ]

art credit: @pastel-trashtel​

-

note: i apologise for the messiness! i hope it isn’t hard to follow.look forward to some jon/lucas love, some marcel/scott/simone time and some john/lucas time in these next few chapters!! theeennnn we’ll get back to our lovely jon/evan ;]

[chinxino5-blog]

Cute  [ xxi ]

h2ovanoss fic - punk!pastel! highschool au warnings: mentions of violence, mentions of negative/self-hateful thinking 3004 words part twenty-one

21.

Tuesday, 19:59.

Slut -> Mom, Slave Driver, Het, Dat Boi, Bitch Boi, and Evan.

Slut changed Evan’s name to sPunk.

Slut: hi evan

sPunk: rly

sPunk: this is what were goin with

sPunk: you guys jons friends?

Mom: name call

Mom: brock

Slut: scotty

Dat Boi: its ya boi…… lucas

Bitch Boi: brian....

Het: craig…………

Slave Driver: oh boy, im suni

sPunk: i feel like I should be surprised but im not

Bitch Boi: excuse me?

sPunk: uhh :)

sPunk: and no i havent heard from jon

sPunk: ive messaged called and left a voicemail he hasn’t responded to any of it

sPunk: i guess you guys have the same result?

Slave Driver: yep

Het: unfortunately

sPunk: well

sPunk: im supposed to take him to school tmr

sPunk: so ill ask and see if he responds then. if he doesnt ill go see if hes home

Slut: yeah ok

Het: might work

Mom: I hope so

Bitch Boi: i’m sure he’s ok right?

Mom: I don’t think he is. Something happened

Mom: I asked Alice if he was okay

Mom: She didn’t have an answer for me

Bitch Boi: fuck

Slave Driver: oh fuck

Dat Boi: shitt

Het: lets just

Het: see how evan goes in the morning

Het: and we can figure out what to do next tomorrow

Slut: he cant just stay home forever and he will turn his phone on eventually

Slut: he will be okay

Slut: even if something bad happened, he’s got two great moms and all of us. he’ll be ok and we’ll help him with whatever happened.

Mom: Scotty’s right. We’ll just wait and see what happens.

sPunk: … okay

sPunk: thnks for msging me

Mom: Thanks Evan.

sPunk: i’ll let you guys know in the morning

-

He slept. But not well. He picked up his phone for the first time earlier in the afternoon. Though his agony continued to press down on him, he managed to reach for it with a focus of muting the incessant buzzing.

He ignored all the texts, not wanting to read them, not wanting to know if he was hurting his friends with his silence or if they simply just didn’t care.

But with his finger on the off button, he noticed the voicemail notification.

Stinging eyes felt aflame as he listened, the grainy voice of Evan hurting him more than the winded feeling of his lungs and the ache of is ankle. He listened to it through, pulling apart each word. But he didn’t let it play a second time. He deleted it. His phone went black, not another sound from it.

Throughout the following hour, he heard the boy’s words relay over and over again in his head, heard the sound of slight confusion and the touch of concern, heard him wonder where the boundaries of privacy versus worry laid between them? When his phone fell back to his bedside table, his stomach churned.

Worry. Worry. Worry.

A cry for help left his lips as he lurched upward, twisting at the side and feeling his skin burn with bruises. He emptied his stomach over the side of his bed and collapsed.

The door opened and he was out.

Another bed held him when he awoke next, the darker room of his parents’ surrounding him with dusk light eager to push through thin curtains. About ten seconds of relief, ten seconds of relaxation as he came blinked back to reality. Then the pain rearose and his taste buds shrivelled at the stinging taste of stomach acid.

Dropping his hand off the side of the bed, his fingers met wood and he rapped his knuckles on the bed frame as loudly as he could. Sure enough, his door peeked open and Riley leaned in.

Worry. Worry. Worry. Worry.

“Hey Jon.” Soft whisper, gentle against his pain. He watched her move to his side through swollen eyes and whimpered gratefully to feel the glass of water cool on his bottom lip. Water pooled in his mouth and washed down the sickly taste in his throat. “How are you feeling, love?”

He managed to shake his head. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

“Try get as much rest as you can. Do you want food?” Another small shake of the head. There was no way he would be able to keep anything in his stomach. So she smiled a tiny smile, weak with concern, and left him to sleep.

He tried.

Drifting. That’s how he would have best described it. For hours and hours and hours, he drifted. Waking countless times, no light peeking through the curtains. Where his parents slept he didn’t know but guilt laid around him with his every conscious moment.

The guilt of being a burden.

No sense of time, no awareness of anything but his pain. He jolted awake once with an aching headache and lungs that weighed him down. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. He couldn’t breathe. His lungs were too small. He could only weep until it hurt too much to even stay awake.

Only then did he fall asleep.

-

“Jon?” He peeled his eyes open, feeling heavy and sick, but relieved to finally see dawn rays shining through the curtains. Cautious blue eyes peered into the room and his mother walked in with cereal and water. His stomach churned at the mere idea of eating. She moved in, putting the tray down on the bedside table and sat by his legs. Smile gentle. Eyes calm. “How are you feeling? How did you sleep?”

His blinks were slow and tired, heavy heart full of lethargy more than anything. It took him a couple of tries to have his voice working again. “Not great,” he croaked and nothing showed in her eyes about how she was feeling. Even as a mother she held the qualities of a lawyer. She tried her best to be expressive about her love.

He appreciated that.

“Spend today trying to get some sleep to. Want me to help you get some food down?” she asked, rubbing his arm. He nodded and allowed her tip the glass of water up at his lips. When she put the bowl of cereal aside it had been barely touched after agonisingly long minutes.

Swallowing food was too much, despite his rumbling stomach. Riley took it away with a promise to return with more water and did so.

She helped him drink, and then brought up the questions hovering eagerly in her thoughts. He expected them. “Now I need you to tell me who hurt you, Jon.” He just blinked, savouring the cool water slipping down his sore throat. “I need you to tell me so we can do something about it and get this student expelled. It was a student, yes?”

He ground his teeth together. “I can’t.”

Her face fell, finding his hand and squeezing it. “You need to, honey, we can’t let you go back to school with the same student who did this to you!”

“I can’t.” Shaking his head hurt but he had to ingrain his point into the argument between them. “I don’t want to… t-to make this worse…” Every single word was like swallowing a mouthful of sand, scraping down his throat.

Riley wore a look of helplessness. “Honey-”

“Mom.” He cut her off and closed his eyes, focusing on getting sounds from his throat as smoothly and gently as possible. “I don’t want to make a fuss.” Breathe in. Breathe out. “I just want to heal and go back… Please. Expelling him won’t do anything.”

She still had fight in her, unwilling to leave it be. Riley lived her life controlling the law and manipulating it to her benefit. She had the power to deliver whatever punishment she deemed worthy to the boy she didn’t even know the name of. But her son didn’t want that, her son wanted peace and quiet.

And her love for him and his wants and needs were far more important than her desire to punish the teenage boy who hurt her little boy. She needed to take care of him first and he didn’t want to do anything other than heal. So she would sit quiet and do her best to help him.

-

Wednesday, 7:46.

Evan -> Jay.

Evan: am i taking you to school?

-

Wednesday, 8:21.

Evan -> Jay.

Evan: i’m assuming something just happened to your phone?

-

Wednesday, 8:33.

Evan -> Jay.

Evan: im at your house, are you here?

-

Jon didn’t have the courage to open his messages, let alone answer them. He read them from his lock screen and didn’t even bother glancing at Thirsty Hoes or texts just from Brock. What would he say?

But with the thin walls of his house he heard the unsure knocking from below him. “Hi Alice, I was wondering if I’m taking Jon to school? Is he home?” A voice that made his heart ache.

“Sorry honey, he’s asleep right now. He’s not feeling well.”

Silence. Jon’s ears strained.

“Is he okay?”

Hesitation. He knew how his mother wore her heart on her sleeve. He knew she couldn’t lie.

“He’ll be okay, he just needs some time at home.”

“Can you… can you ask him to call me please? I would like to talk to him.”

“I will, dear, I will. Thank you for caring about him.” Door shut. Motor bike engine. Gone.

-

Wednesday, 8:53.

sPunk -> Where’s Jonny?

sPunk: not coming to school

sPunk: alice said he was sleeping and he was “going to be alright.”

sPunk: she said she’d tell him to turn on his phone so maybe he’ll listen

Mom: Thanks Evan.

Mom: I’ll see if I can get through to him sometime today while I’m home.

Dat Boi: let us know if you do

Mom: of course

Bitch Boi: ^^

Mom: Have a good day at school you guys! ^-^ <3

-

There were two empty seats at the pastel kids’ table on Wednesday. The break periods left the table relatively glum, conversation unsurprisingly drawing back to their missing friend.

“We really should just wait until we hear from him.” Craig’s statement was obvious. It made sense. It was logical. There was no reason for them to continuously worry and wonder where he was and what his absence meant. They’d find out eventually.

But it was frustrating. “I just want to know that he’s okay.” Lucas’ hands were pale in his hair and he huffed.

Brian felt sour. “Ye know he’s not.” Negative and unwanted words spilt on the white table and Suni gave him a look. He raised his hands. “We all know he’s not! ‘He’ll be okay’ means ‘e isn’t right now. I’m fockin’ worried about ‘im and it’s frustratin’ that I can’t- that we can’t do anything.”

They stared at their uneaten food, no one at the table having any sort of appetite. They’d messaged Brock earlier during the recess period but he told them he’d had no luck. Everything felt grim.

Thankfully though, the day sped through. Each class seemed more insignificant than the last. Sooner than they’d expected, the bell was going and they were heading for buses or pick-up areas.

-

Wednesday, 9:32.

Evan –> Jay

Evan: please text me today

Evan: ill be checking

Evan: im worried about you and i know something happened but i just want to hear from you

Evan: your friends are just as worried

-

Wednesday, 11:02.

Evan -> Jay

Evan: if youre sick I hope youre feeling better

Evan: i can see that youve read my msgs too

Evan: i hope you can text me soon

-

Wednesday, 13:39.

Evan -> Jay

Evan: make sure youre drinking water and eating right

Evan: and getting enouhg sleep

Evan: i have sport next so i cant text u but take care of yourself

Evan: miss you xo

Evan: <3

-

Wednesday, 14:27.

Jay -> Evan

Jay: <3

-

Jon remained in bed the whole day. The most he did was hobble into the bathroom connected to the bedroom and pee. The pain of his bruising continued to eat away at his energy and sitting up was the limit of his ability.

It was good enough.

“Please.” Alice had spoken softly when she’d come up to see him in the morning. “Think about talking to them. Evan’s worried, and so is Brocky. You’ll be going back next week and it’s better to talk to them now rather than have them hound you for explanations next Monday at school.”

Fortunately, he had the entire day to think about it; to think about everything.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t rid his thoughts of the sickening voice that accompanied the violence he endured the previous day.

“You’re a burden. A waste of space.”

“They can’t wait to get rid of you.”

“He hates you.”

“Who would bother with someone like you; with a faggot like you?”

He bit his lip until it bled,

But a message from Evan every hour or two kept him grounded, kept him breathing and alive and reminding himself that he wasn’t a burden, his friends didn’t hate him, Evan liked having him around. He wasn’t just a nasty slur.

Brock also messaged him rather frequently, Jon receiving and ignoring five total phone calls from him throughout the day. He didn’t respond to his best friend. He ignored the guilt that settled in his gut, refusing to see it as anything more than sickness that boiled beneath his bruising.

There was no way he could face Brock.

Yet he found himself replying to Evan. Waking up from a pain-riddled nap with a throbbing headache and no sense of logical thinking, he sent through a heart with a fond smile on his lips. The punk was a pretty distraction from the pain in his throat and he only realised he’d done what he told himself not to do when the school day came to an end and his phone was vibrating against his arm.

His heart jumped in alarm, seeing Evan’s name with a green and a red button. A sound of panic left his swollen throat when his thumb flew to touch the green and he froze dead still, hearing a voice that soothed his pain but inflamed his fear.

“Jay? Jay, are you alright?” Surprise at the fact that the brunette had picked up, surprise that he’d messaged the punk at all. Jon did not say a word. His voice was croaky and strained and thick with pain. His problem would be evident in seconds. “Jon?” Worried, uncertain. “Are you there?”

His fingers shook as he opened his messenger app over the phone call.

-

Wednesday, 15:19.

Jay -> Evan

Jay: i cant speak

-

A small murmur of surprise and the sound of a text-tone from Evan’s phone. “Oh. Why not? Are you alright?”

Lie. Lie. Lie.

Jay: yes im ok

Jay: just sick

“Why did you go home? What happened?”

Liar. Liar. Liar.

Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.

Jay: threw up at lunch

Jay: mom picked me up

Jay: sorry

He believed that maybe if he gave short, simple responses, it’d be easier for him to hide behind his lies and ignore his guilt. Technically, he did throw up, though it wasn’t at school and that wasn’t the reason he went home. Maybe it could only be counted as a half-lie?

“Why didn’t you call?” He could tell Evan was cautious, toeing lines he wasn’t sure of. He didn’t know where boundaries lay, he didn’t know what he was allowed to ask.

Jon hesitated.

Jay: phone dead + acting weird

Jay: been sleeping a lot

There was no way Evan would believe such a thin lie, no way he was that oblivious.

Unsurprisingly, he didn’t pretend either.

“I know you’re lying.” The mention was blunt and Jon closed his eyes. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. “You would tell me if you wanted to so I’m not gonna push it. I just want to know if you’ll be okay.”

His response was immediate. Thankful for the respect, and eager to reassure.

Jay: i will

The smile in Evan’s words could be heard.

“Thank God. When will you be back at school do you think?”

Jay: probably next week

There was a moment of silence where Jon’s eyes fell shut and he tried to breathe as evenly as possible.

“Will you text me later? Please? I-” Evan caught himself. Jon was curious to the words he bit back but more caught up in wondering if he was going to agree or not. “If I’m not gonna get to see you for the rest of the week, I’d like to still talk to you. Even just texting.”

His busted lips stung as they pulled up into a weak  smile.

Jay: yes okay

Jay: I can try

A soft sigh, a breath of relief. “Good. I’ll leave you be now.” He heard the rev of an engine in the background and Jon nodded slightly to himself. “Take care of yourself, Flower Boy.”

Jay: be safe

Jay: <3

The call ended and a sadness spread through his chest at the knowledge that the cute nickname no longer applied.

-

Weathered hands pulled at black plastic bags. Wednesday was rubbish day for the high-school and the cleaner wanted nothing more than to finish his job and get home to his wife. He emptied each small bin into the bags. The English classes, History classes, the three Music bins… A small frown pulled at his lips when he watched an amount of pink and yellow shapes flutter out of one bin. He caught one, rubbing it between his fingers curiously.

Some kid’s art project? It seemed so. Though it was odd to see in a music class bin. He didn’t care much though, too tired to be curious, and finished up his job, emptying the rest of the bins; sheets of music, a thin plastic chord and a few random tissues that looked to be used to aid a blood-nose.

-

parts: [ i ] - [ ii ] - [ iii ] - [ iv ] - [ v ] - [ vi ] - [ vii ] - [ viii ] - [ ix ] - [ x ] - [ xi ] - [ xii ] - [ xiii ] - [ xiv ] - [ xv ] - [ xvi ] - [ xvii ] - [ xviii ] - [ xix ] - [ xx ] - [ xxi ] - [ xxii ] - [ xxiii ] 

art credit: @pastel-trashtel​

-

note: what the.... im...... on time...? exactly seven days???? since my last update!?!?!? im insane wow im so good at this 

:D hope you guys liiike it - answered question of “what about the flower crown!??!” (probs not how you wanted me to) anndddd ive got like 5 fics im gonna be trying to write writing over the next week so honestly....

if i continue to not pay attention to school, i might have this update out next weekend. otherwise it might be a little longer. thanks for your patience! i’m slowly getting more on time and organised with all this shit :)

hope you enjoy!

gi