Wrecking Ball (manxboy)

Chapter 9

It’s chapter 9 now! Honestly, I’m shocked at myself. I expected myself to cover this content in six chapters, if not five. But right now, we’re at chapter 9! I guess it had something to do with Jerron’s mind basically. He just have too much of all these monologues. Ah well, they're interesting to write anyway. By the way, I had fun seeing all of your comments. And that few hate/dislike comments towards Jerron… Well, let’s see if he redeems himself, yeah? XD

Oh oh. I went and change the cover, if you guy noticed. I realized that the previous one was... too light and fluffy for this story, so I decided to change it. And anyway, the cover is still credited to theCuppedCake (thanks to you again. I think your name appeared like three times in this story), because I'm horrible at covers.

 

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“Where were you last night?”

Jerron looked up from his apple he was chewing on and glanced over at the kitchen doorway. Sure enough, the boy was lingering there, his brown eyes uncertain yet firm. Caught off-guard, the older man forced himself to take a relaxed stance to hide his surprise, leaning against the kitchen counter comfortably. To see Ezreal anything where that was not on the couch was rare enough these days, let alone initiating a conversation himself.

He swept his glance over the boy, hoping it might offer him some sort of explanation. The dark circles under the boy’s eyes stood out against his otherwise pale skin and Jerron vaguely thought of whether this was how people dressed themselves up during Halloween or during work in the haunted house.

“Ah, it’s nothing much. I just went to patron a shop that I hadn’t gone in a while.”

He’d said it in a light-hearted, dismissive tone and proceeded to bite the apple another time, all the while observing the boy in the corner of his eye. He wondered why the boy only spoke up right now.

“… Did the shop need you to stay overnight?”

“No… Not really, no,” he answered, black eyes confused. “Why do you ask?”

“Shuffling his feet, he paused for a moment before speaking again. “… You’re still wearing the clothes you wore out yesterday.”

Jerron kept his glance carefully on the boy, not giving his outfit a glance to check before answering. “Ah well, I haven’t gotten a chance to change yet. I’ve only just came back a few while ago after all.”

“Oh…” The boy stared back at him, his eyebrows pulled together as if thinking of something. Ezreal winced suddenly (probably at some thought he thought up) and turned his head slightly to the side as if to avoid the man’s eyes. Silence quickly befell them.

Realizing that the boy wasn’t going to elaborate any further, he decided to probe. “Why, is there something wrong?”

Ezreal flinched, turning his head slightly to the side. “No, nothing,” he muttered. Turning around, he started to march back to the couch.

Jerron watched him as he went. When he came back early in the morning, he’d realized that the boy’s room was open and taking a step further, he had realized that the boy had fallen asleep on the couch. And the television was turned off. It didn’t make sense. What could the boy possibly be doing on the couch, if not watching the television? Jerron took note of the slightly tired way the small frame had moved and thought back to the dark eye bags.

Could Ezreal have been waiting for him last night?

 Jerron froze at the thought. It didn’t make sense. Why would he be waiting for him when he had obviously angered the boy and the latter had not forgiven him yet?