Saturday morning was the day that Jonah woke up exhausted, stirring, tossing and turning, further disarranging the covers that he hadn't pulled over himself the night before. His eyes finally opened, his gaze set still on the sloping ceiling above his bed, the light from his windows shining across the room, rays of sunlight falling across his face. The dark-haired boy finally turned his head to settle his gaze on his alarm clock, seeing that he'd woken up as early as nine in the morning. His energy was inaccessible to him, which lead the teen to his decision to remain in bed for longer. Although, when he found he wouldn't be sleeping again that day, after lying still for a few more hours, he decided to get up immediately. With a sigh, he sat up, rubbing his face as he placed his feet on the floor and slowly pushed himself into a standing position, his hand finding the desk at his bedside, holding his tired body upright while he regained the strength that he seemed to have lost overnight.
Now dressed and regaining total control over his body, Jonah ventured downstairs, tiptoeing as he passed his parent's bedroom, considering the possibility of them still being asleep. The teen had already become used to doing this having allowed it to become a habit over the weekend. Though, this Saturday morning, he felt surprised that he remembered to do so, having forgotten the weekend before due to them being in the process of settling into their new home in this new town.
Jonah sighed, arriving in the kitchen, silence filling the entire house, telling him that he was the sole person awake that day. He didn't blame his parents, considering that, while he had been at school, they had still been arranging their new home, settling as best they could and as soon as they could.
He peered into the fridge, his eyes flicking from one side to the other as the teen noticed the significant lack of food, thinking about the meals that they'd had over the past week; either a takeout or a very small meal made from the little food that they had the time to buy throughout the time that they'd lived there. Or at least, Jonah couldn't see anything that he could make a plentiful breakfast from. The boy thought about the nights in which he'd ask his parents to order a takeout meal because he had judged the shelves of the cupboards and fridge void of food, and yet, his mother Hazel was always able to prepare a meal for the entire family. He'd watch her cook them something that she could easily 'throw together', as she would say, and yet Jonah still didn't possess the same capability of making something out of nothing, or at least, very little, in this case. They'd run out of milk the day before, leading the teen to close the fridge, disheartened and hungry, having to settle for dry cereal until somebody ventured into the high street to buy more. Jonah considered doing this himself, planning to leave the house to get some as soon as he could, which would have been immediately had he not been startled by a sudden vibration against the counter, followed by a blinding flash. His gaze switched immediately to the origin of the flash, seeing his mobile phone resting beside him, the dark-haired male realising immediately that the sudden light had been his text alert. Jonah picked up his phone and checked the screen, suddenly feeling more appreciative of the late morning that he got, seeing his screen showing that it was eleven o'clock.
Jonah smiled to himself, seeing the name 'Connor Price' above the message that he had just received, which read, 'Are you busy today?'
Jonah responded quickly, his fingers roughly hitting the screen to type the words, 'No. Why?'
It took a few minutes for Connor to text back, allowing the teen to eat handfuls of his cereal at a time while he waited, leaning over the kitchen counter as he gazed out of the kitchen window. At last, five minutes later, his phone went off again, the screen displaying Connor's name again. His messages read, 'I'm sick and I'm lonely.'
'Do you want me to come over?' Jonah asked him, almost immediately receiving another message.
'Could you?'
Jonah told him that he'd be there very soon, already roughly stuffing the cereal box back into the cupboard that it had been kept in, taking some slow and quiet steps into the hall, where he quickly grabbed his keys and favourite coat; a denim jacket with a cotton hood and sleeves. As he quietly slipped out of the house, he was immediately hit by the cold breeze whipping past his front door.
It was a freezing cold morning, the teen who now stood in the wind immediately pulling his coat on over his t-shirt. He attempted to pull his sleeves over his hands and yet still search his phone for the note that contained the address belonging to the friend that he was visiting, having saved it previously in the week.
The air was thick and damp, although the sun shone and birds chirped from distant trees. As the teenage boy briefly looked up, he saw that the sky overhead was brilliantly bright blue. It looked as though it would be a perfect day in summer, and yet it felt as cold as a harsh winter night. He zipped up his coat and continued walking.
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.
"Are you okay there?" Simon called down from the top of the steps, having noticed that his guest had paused.
Upon hearing his question, Jonah looked back up at Simon, jogging the rest of the way up the stairs to join him, his movements still an indication of his dreaded feeling of awkwardness. As he arrived at the top of the steps, a quiet creak could be heard from the far end of the hall to their side. Both males looked over to see the furthest door, having already been left slightly ajar, now being pushed further open, the distance increasing by only a few centimetres before it stopped and out stepped a tiny, black and white cat. Jonah smiled as the small animal approached the two of them, meowing quietly as it stopped at his feet, rubbing its fur against his ankles. Eventually, Jonah laughed as he crouched down to stroke the cat, all nerves melting away as his fingers ran across the incredibly soft fur of the kitten.
"Who's this?" Jonah asked, the small kitten throwing itself onto the floor, lying on its back as Jonah's hand moved to the animal's stomach.
"That's Dennis," Simon watched as the kitchen rolled over, hearing him purring in delight due to the teenager's attention, "he's Connor's cat."
Jonah couldn't help but let out a small 'aw' as he gently scooped up the kitten, a smile spreading across his face as Dennis pressed his paw lightly against his nose.
"He's very friendly. He learnt from his carer," Simon smiled, stroking Dennis's head, tickling behind his ears as he rested his paws on Jonah's shoulder, meanwhile Jonah looked up at the man at his side with a smile.
"Are you a very close family?" he enquired without thinking, mentally cursing himself as he heard the question escape his lips.
Simon let out another low chuckle, turning and approaching the door that Dennis had just emerged from, addressing his guest as he walked.
"I'd love to think so," he said, simply, "I love my son and my wife. Why wouldn't we be close?"
Jonah followed him to the door, letting go of the kitten when he began to jump from his arms onto the carpet before the kitten followed the two males entering his owner's bedroom.
Simon knocked lightly on the open door, peering into the darkened room through the tiny opening. His son stirred, still lying in bed with the covers pulled up to his chest, pushing his head up to meet the eyes of his dad. Connor squinted as he looked out into the light of the hallway, his own room void of light as his curtains prevented the daylight from flooding in through the glass of his windows.
"Did I wake you up, kid?" Simon asked, his voice quiet and his expression an image of concern for his only child, as he opened the door slightly further to see Connor more clearly, seeing him shaking his head slowly, some of his messy hair falling in front of his face. He was met with a small smile, which still harboured some worry as his father continued to speak.
"Jonah's here to see you. Do you want him to come in?"
Again, Connor pushed himself up, now sitting upright as he nodded, his movements still slow as he brought his hands up to his face, wiping his eyes. Simon turned to nod to Jonah, moving aside and allowing him into the darkness of Connor's bedroom.
It was a small room, smaller than his, Connor's bed against the far corner, nothing but a small dresser at its side. Directly beside the door was a desk, on which a closed laptop, a lamp and an untidy stack of crumpled paper sat, the black desk chair also being used to carry papers and books. On the other side of his door, there was a set of wooden shutters, spanning the entire length of the wall. One set of shutters were pulled over a window, whereas the others were pulled down over the glass door that Jonah had noticed lead to the balcony he'd seen from the outside of the house, some thin strips of light squeezing their way through the cracks in the wooden sticks, reaching in to desperately try to illuminate the bedroom.
At last, Jonah's focus landed on Connor, seeing his hair that was somehow twice as wild, if not more so now that he had just woken up, his eyes were dark and tired and, even in the darkness, he now seemed paler. He gave Jonah a tired smile, the other boy taking a few more steps into the bedroom, followed and soon overtaken by Dennis, who jumped straight onto Connor's bed and lay down on the mattress beside him.
"Are you alright?" Jonah finally asked as he sat down, although seeing soon after that Connor's face displayed misery. He was clearly tired and, not only ill but, tired of being ill, which added to his pre-existing exhaustion. However, despite this, he gave a small nod, his change in expression barely visible, leaving Jonah unable to see the slight hint of a smile that tugged at Connor's lips. In truth, it barely lasted either. The teen looked down at the covers that remained draped over his legs, his hands placed on his lap as he picked at his nails, being the only disruption to the stillness of the room around him.
After a silence that was neither awkward nor comfortable, Jonah seemed to finally think of something to say. He shuffled closer, getting the attention of the other male immediately. Connor's head snapped back up as his gaze fixed on Jonah, who placed a hand on Connor's forehead, muttering to him, "don't you think some fresh air would be good for you? It's really stuffy in here."
"I would have opened the window by now," Connor finally spoke for the first time that morning, showing Jonah just how rough and hoarse his voice was, "but I haven't gotten up at all this morning." He ended his statement with a sigh, just as Jonah moved his hand away from his face, Connor throwing the covers off himself, disturbing the kitten at his side to sit with his bare feet on the ground, beside Jonah. As his shoulder, bare and uncovered by the loose vest that he wore, touched the other male's, the fabric of Jonah's jacket soft against his skin, the slight chill that lingered on his clothes from the cold air outside sent a small shiver through his body. However, once it had passed, Connor felt himself cooling down somewhat. Eventually, using what Jonah noticed was too much effort, Connor pushed himself up and off the bed. He seemed to stagger as he took his first few steps towards the covered window on the opposite side of his bedroom, lifting up the shutters and reaching underneath to open it. Jonah watched as he turned around, hearing the rustling of trees and passing of cars coming from outside, the sounds of the street no longer muffled by the glass panes. Connor returned to his place on his bed, sighing again before suddenly choking, his breath caught in his throat. His sputtering eventually became a violent coughing fit, like the few that Jonah had witnessed at school that had made him question Connor's health a few times, leading the darker-haired teen to raise his hand to Connor's back, slapping him roughly, causing his friend to let out one much louder cough into the palm of his hands before he took in a deep breath, his eyes watering. Jonah's hand lingered on his back, concern written all over his expression, moving in circular motions against his vest.
"Are you alright?" he asked again.
"Yeah," Connor whispered, trying to avoid using his voice to a degree that would result in another outburst. "I have a sore throat a lot. I'm used to it by now."
"That's not good, used to it or not," Jonah observed, "so, instead of doing nothing, let's take your mind off it, yeah?"
"Okay," Connor laughed, grateful for Jonah's help, having not had a friend to aid him through illness previously. After all, he couldn't bother Christine Scott with a matter such as his poor health. "What do you want to do?"
"It's a matter of what you want to do, Connor."
Connor thought for a moment before smiling to himself, an appealing idea in his head.
"How about we watch Netflix?" His hoarse voice seemed as full of life and enthusiasm as it had done when Connor had laughed, as though he was still totally healthy, Jonah smiling to hear the happiness in his friend's voice.
Jonah nodded as he stood up to go and collect Connor's laptop from the desk against the wall, Connor let to crawl and huddle up back under his duvet, Dennis still lying next to him as he pushed his pillows up against the wall and leant back. When his taller friend sat beside him, opening the laptop and passing it over to Connor to enter his password, the male at his side turned to him with a smile.
"Take your jacket off, it's too warm in here," he told him, his voice still quiet, but as soft as he could manage.
Jonah did so, draping his coat over the dresser and then kicking his shoes off, pushing them underneath Connor's bed and leaning against the same wall as Connor, both now slouching on the bed as they watched the laptop turn on.
As his desktop loaded, the background was a photo, taken in a dim room with the flash on, of Dennis sitting on the back of a sofa, as he lightly nuzzled the person sitting in front of him. Judging by the mess of curly hair, despite the fact that the image cut off before the person's face was revealed, it was obvious that it was Connor. Jonah chuckled.
"You love your cat a lot, don't you?" he smiled, reaching behind the boy to lightly stroke the kitten, who raised his head unto his palm with his eyes closed.
"He's cute," Connor responded, "and a reliable alarm clock, too."
Jonah chuckled again.
"Could you pass me my phone?" Connor requested of Jonah, pointing to the dresser, where the darker-haired male spotted it, sitting beside where he'd just put his jacket. Doing as Connor said, their fingers brushed together as the device was handed from one boy to the other, Connor using his other hand to pass the unused half of his duvet to Jonah, covering him too. He opened up the text messages that he had exchanged with his father and typed the words, 'can we order food for lunch or dinner?' This had been another part of his 'appealing idea'.
"Jonah, you look for something to watch," Connor handed his the computer with a smile, staring at his phone screen as three dots appeared, showing that his father was already typing his response to his question. Jonah scrolled through his options slowly, checking everything that he could whilst he waited for Connor to finish whatever he was doing on his phone.
Connor's phone vibrated once, very quickly, as he got a response from his father downstairs.
'Ok. As long as it's not too hard on your throat.'
Connor immediately knew what he wanted; he had the whole time.
"Do you like Chinese food, Jonah?" Connor enquired.
"Hell yeah," Jonah responded, laughing quietly. He sounded happy, and yet still so focused on his search through the contents of the streaming site.
Thus, Connor asked for his dad to bring them up a menu from his favourite Chinese takeaway.
"What about this?" Connor heard Jonah ask him, turning the computer to show his friend his choice.
"Anything's fine, honestly," Connor smiled, "I just don't want to be extremely bored all weekend. If we hate it, we'll just rant about it later. How does that sound?"
"Magical," Jonah chuckled, earning another smile from the boy at his side.
The two, about to begin watching the movie, were suddenly stopped by a knocking at Connor's door. The sound came three times before the one waiting received a response, the voice that called out belonging to Jonah, who responded immediately upon seeing Connor opening his mouth, as though he was going to try and shout for their guest to enter the room. Out of concern for his friend, he'd beaten Connor to it.
As the long-haired boy had initially thought, as the door opened with a prolonged creak, the light from the hall flooding into his room once again, he saw his father standing in the doorway. Simon took a few steps into his son's room and leant over to hand the teenage boys the menu that he clutched tightly.
"You two pick whatever you want, okay?" he told them
"I'm getting food?" Jonah smiled, partially joking as he smiled up at Simon, who seemed to laugh at his joke as he approached the open door, preparing to leave again. He smiled at the boy as he turned back around.
"While I'm feeling nice, yes, I'll buy you food," he informed them.
"Thanks, dad," the shorter teenager also smiled, unfolding the menu and holding it between Jonah and himself.
Simon let out a sigh upon hearing his son's hoarse voice and, as he continued to speak to him, he spoke softly, much calmer and sweeter.
"I'll bring up your medicine in a few minutes, okay kid? Then you can tell me what you're getting."
"Yeah, that's fine," Connor smiled, "thanks again, dad."
With that Simon left, Jonah watching as the door closed behind him. He thought once again of how close the two were, especially compared to his relationship with his relatively detached father. Jonah placed his arm around Connor's shoulders and looked back to the laptop.
"Shall we decide what we're going to eat first?"