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Chapter 6- The Kindest Carer

Every breath he took appeared before him, a white puff of steam emerging from his lips and nose each time, the biting cold and constant breaths causing his lips to dry quickly, though it seemed not to bother him at all as he crossed the road ahead of him, checking the signs that separated the streets as he searched for the name matching the one that he was searching for.

Finally, he found a house that matched the address, stopping just outside the garden to admire the exterior.
It was a two-storey building, large windows patterning the front of the house each side of the front door, looking out across the garden. His gaze travelled up, leading Jonah to catch sight of a small balcony, the door to which being glass, and seemingly covered by shutters on the inside, a white bench against the wall beside the door.
The male took a single step into the garden, the stones on the path grinding together under his feet as he approached the front door to the house, knocking three times before waiting patiently for an answer. While he stood, taking another deep breath, he felt confident, straightening and brushing down his jacket before anybody came to the door to let him in, the time he spent waiting allowed him to think of what he may say to Connor when he saw him that day. It seemed like a sudden realisation that Connor had told Jonah that he was ill, the memory of witnessing his sudden and violent coughing fits also returning to the student, which built concern for him. However, he now considered ways of making him feel better, even if it was just by making him smile or laugh during the time that he would stay there, further building his confidence. This sudden confidence brought a smile to his face, his waiting prolonged by a further few seconds before he heard the click of the door being unlocked from the other side. However, as it opened, all confidence that had appeared so spontaneously, just as spontaneously drained away as he laid eyes on Connor's father. He'd forgotten that small detail. He stared up at the face of his English teacher, a blank look plastered across his face for a few quiet seconds. Simon eventually shifted and spoke first, recognising Jonah quite quickly and allowing a small smirk to play at his lips when the teenage boy said nothing.

"I hope you're not here to try and prank your teacher," he started, a low chuckle escaping his lips, "because you're doing a terrible job if you are."
Jonah smiled awkwardly, once again straightening this jacket, though this time it was in obvious embarrassment, as he struggled to look up once he tore his gaze away.

"Is Connor here?" he eventually questioned, quietly. Jonah immediately cursed himself after hearing his voice crack due to the sudden nerves he felt. Once again, the older male chuckled, smiling at the teen at his door.

"Jonah, while you're here, I'm not your teacher. I'm just your friend's dad, okay?" he said in a manner that seemed oddly kind, Jonah's only response being to nod, "and yes, he's in his room, but he's not well today."

"I know," Jonah responded quite quickly, "he asked me to come over and see him."
Simon nodded back, moving aside and gesturing to Jonah through the doorway, inviting him into his home.
Stepping into Connor's family home was strange and new; something unfamiliar but homely and welcoming, to a degree that made even the more new environments far from unsettling.
There was no hall, the door opening up straight into a wide-open room acting as both a kitchen and dining room, decorated with dark tiles and brown paint that complimented a very rustic appearance. It was warm inside, Jonah immediately being hit by a very particular scent as he stepped inside; the natural smell that he'd noticed lingering on Connor, mixed with what seemed to him to be washing detergent. Straight ahead, against the far wall, he saw the stairs, the majority of which was followed by photographs hanging from the wall, each one tucked in beautiful frames with intricate carvings. To the other side of the front door was a wall, separated by two open doors. Through the one closest to where he stood, he saw a large bathroom, and as he took a quick look through the second doorway, he saw the back of a sofa, the far wall and a television that had been left on, playing a movie or tv show that Jonah couldn't identify.
Simon lead him straight to the stairs in silence, Jonah's focus mostly on the photos hanging on the wall. As he took the first few steps, Jonah stopped to gaze upon one of the images, in particular, depicting a young boy, appearing barely older than three or four years of age, a small smear of something purple on his cheek as he clutched a paintbrush in one of his tiny hands. Crouching behind him, dressed in dirty and paint-stained clothes as he lay a hand on the boy's shoulder, was a much younger, much happier Simon. It seemed obvious to Jonah, simply by seeing the small boy's wild curls, held back by a hair clip, that the child was Connor. There was a wide smile on both of their faces, Connor's eyes bright and his cheeks slightly chubby. He looked sweet, posing happily with his father, the closeness between them making Jonah smile, slightly.