Following the news from the male that she had attended school with, Chris insisted that the next day would be when she finally saw her old friends properly again. At her invitation, the three of them gathered the following afternoon, her urgency not going at all unnoticed as she explained her plan; meet her immediately after she had finished running errands for her dad. It led them to a small café, located in a small corner of the supermarket, at which the red-haired girl had been shopping at her father's request.
'Get there by two,' she'd said to Jonah after planning the meeting herself, barely checking whether or not the two were available before she found herself informing the darker-haired male what was going to happen.
Jonah was the first to find her at the table she had chosen, tucked away in the corner, away from anybody else, seating himself down opposite her with a friendly expression on his face. It was the look that he got back from her that gave away, no matter how many friendly or joyful looks he gave her, it was obvious in his eyes that he wasn't smiling. Neither was she. He let his lips part, a greeting prepared for her already, he decided it best to stop. Neither of them particularly wanted to waste time on forced pleasantries, so he wouldn't be the one to start. Chris's pale lips were pulled into a tight line, her eyes on the boy sitting with her, staring with such intensity that he almost couldn't look away, intimidated by the fierce glare he had almost forgotten she possessed. Finally, after a few silent moments, the college student tore his gaze away, instead turning his attention to the table, but it was once again brought back to her when he noticed the way her hands were fidgeting, tapping the table, her fingers crossing and uncrossing over and over again. Then, he noticed her constant bouncing, suddenly hearing the tapping of her heel against the ground, alerting him to the speed of which she was bouncing her knee up and down.
"Are you okay, Chris?" were the words that he eventually settled on.
She shook her head, finally turning her gaze away, as though she'd been waiting for him to speak... just say something else instead. Although, this didn't last long, her eyes on him once again in a few seconds, her arm jutting out, and suddenly, Jonah had her hand in his face.
"Smell my wrist. Is it too strong?"
Jonah's initial reaction was simply a puzzled glance, confusion etched to his face. The ginger-haired girl simply edged her arm closer to him, insisting that he did as she said. Letting the confusion pass, he sniffed, a pleasant aroma lifting from her skin and to his nose. He found himself inhaling the light and flowery scent of her perfume.
"It's nice," he nodded, his expression then reverting straight back to the uncertain look he had been giving her previously, "but why?"
"I needed a strong smell," she began, once again drumming on the tabletop with her nails, "but not too sickly-strong. Apparently, it's relaxing." As Christine continued speaking, her voice gradually softened, becoming quieter and somewhat sweeter than the one she had used to greet Jonah with upon his arrival. Once again, her gaze became intense, staring directly at her constantly-fidgeting hands.
The male across from her inspected her fingers carefully, watching as, every so often, she hit the surface between them with the same finger twice, or missed one entirely and began again.
"Again, are you okay? I get that you're stressed out, but-" Jonah didn't get the chance to continue before he was cut off.
Again, Chris's voice was rough and loud once again. "I usually wake up and have a cigarette- it's a habit now. But, this morning, I forced myself out of bed without it," she admitted, her copper eyes finally meeting his once again, "I swear to god, I'll never smoke again. Not after what you told me yesterday. I risk making it worse if I do, don't I? Oh, god, I gave him cancer, didn't I?"
It was quite the statement, and Jonah needed a little while to let the words process in his head. Chris had decided after yesterday that she wanted never to smoke another cigarette again. It had been a thought that had struck him at some point, that being in the company of this young woman while she smoked must have contributed somewhat to Connor's condition, but surely, neither of them could hold her so responsible. She just didn't want to worsen it, it seemed.
He couldn't help but admire her; when she was clearly the most stressed out and worried about her dear friend, she'd turned away from her coping mechanism, stressing herself further, worrying that she'd only make it worse.
"Chris," Jonah reached out a hand, laying his palm gently across her shaky fingers, "don't blame yourself, especially when he gets here, don't worry about that. Things happen."
The look on Chris's face was still horrified, the concern obvious in her eyes, even if not on her face. "I still had some effect. I must've done! I was always smoking around Connor- I asked him to come and stand with me just so that I could!"
Both of them suddenly stopped upon hearing a loud sound nearby, both looking up to see a familiar, youthful face. Connor Price had been standing beside the table for a short while now and had decided to get their attention by lifting a chair and slamming the legs back down on the floor.
His face was an image of frustration, his lips pulled into a tight line.
"Chris, that is the single most stupid fucking thing I've ever heard," he almost spat as he sat himself down, immediately crossing his legs and folding his arms over his chest, "seriously, you think you're the only cause? Aren't you studying biology? You should know that's impossible."
"You were totally healthy, though!" she protested.
"Healthy people can still get cancer, Chris, don't hold it against yourself."
The three of them fell silent, Jonah removing his hand from Christine's, now laying it across Connor's knee, gently stroking him with his thumb. Turning to look up at the dark-haired man, Connor was able to show a gentle smile, taking a breath and making an attempt to calm himself down.
"How're you doing?" Jonah asked him, his voice calm and soothing, smiling back at his boyfriend to try and ease his mood a little more, "did you sleep last night? Have you eaten today?"
Connor nodded, sighing. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm healthy, just angry after hearing that," he assured his lover, turning his attention back to Chris, "I'm sorry. Just-" he took a pause, in his head the same sentence formed once again "-Don't hold it against yourself. Don't hold yourself responsible for my condition. Please."
The redhead's expression softened, her raised brow resting lower now, her face calmer, but no more pleased at the conversation.
It was only as she allowed her eyes to leave his that she saw the direction of which Jonah's arm was going, the comforting hand still lingering on the shorter male's knee. In her head, she considered just how affectionate the two seemed in this moment alone, wondering just how sweet their relationship had remained despite them being together for over a year now.
However, it seemed another 'they' not too far away had come to the realisation that, in comparison, their once young love, affectionate, full of gentle touches and passionate kisses, was inexcusably inert.
Or at least, he noticed, only wondering whether or not she had.
Simon had opted to clean the kitchen of the mugs from which they had just drunk their coffee, silence between them as he had searched his emails while Nina noted down multiple calculations to determine what money they would have and where it should be going. Many aggravated sighs later, after her husband had stood up, the short, brunette woman placed her head in her hands and spoke out, her voice laced with irritation.
"So, if we want to keep the house, we need to cut down on food," she began, bringing her hand down onto the table, "if we want food, we need to buy less petrol. If we don't buy petrol, we have no way of getting Connor to any treatment centres. Why can't there be one closer to here?"
Hearing her voice, Simon turned to listen as closely and as carefully as he could, saddened to hear the statement she delivered.
"We'll sort something out, Nina," he promised her, leaving his place by the sink to stand behind her chair, placing his gentle hands on her shoulders and rubbing them to soothe her. It worked as she seemed to sigh in some form of relaxation immediately. To accompany this, he leaned over her, placing a kiss atop her head.
She responded to his words in a much softer tone. "I can only hope. Let me do the rest of the cleaning, I can't spend another second looking at all those numbers or I'll go mad."
The shopkeeper stood hurriedly, her husband jumping away from behind her, partially upset that he was once again away from her, physical contact broken, even if the distance was only two steps of his long stride.
Nina stopped at the sink, picking up one of the obviously-already-clean mugs and scraping at the insides with a sponge.
He couldn't stand it; how she placed the weight of their entire world on her own shoulders. There was not a shadow of a doubt within either of them that their son was struggling, but the additional stress wasn't going to produce any positive results from either mother or father, and so, he returned to standing behind her, placing his gentle and comforting hands on her waist, moving them slowly until he was embracing her from behind.
Nina froze immediately, suddenly eased just a bit more by his touch; a comfort that grew as she leaned back against the man she had married.
"You don't need to work so hard. You're not taking care of yourself, you're stressed, and it's definitely not healthy for you." Simon's voice was low, but soft, the sound reaching her ears, the meaning and sentiment reaching her heart, bringing a smile to her face. After a short while, she found herself swaying, leaning to each side along with him as he rocked her calmly, the soft and sweet tingling of his lips meeting her cheek startling her at first. He repeated, kissing her now flushed face, swaying left. Another kiss, swaying right. Another kiss, swaying left.
"What's gotten into you?" she questioned, breaking away from his embrace to turn, their eyes meeting, gentle smiles exchanged between the couple, "this is nice- extremely nice, but it's not happened in years."
The blonde nodded, slowly, his expression falling gradually into a more serious look, a certain despair in his eyes. "That's exactly why," he began, "you're not in the best position and I want to do whatever I can."
Nina only raised an eyebrow in response to his answer. "That doesn't answer my question exactly. Why are you suddenly so touchy?" As she stared back up at him, he seemed to recognise the small and analytical smirk she wore.
Simon shifted, slightly embarrassed by what it was that he was about to say.
"I noticed that we don't act as affectionate anymore, like when we first did. Time has changed how we interact and I don't think it sits right with me anymore," he began to trail off, shaking his head and focusing back on the matter that he had brought up, "like, I've noticed how Jonah's been acting around Connor recently- and even before he was diagnosed, too. I miss when we were like this; I miss how it was like when we first fell in love."
Nina was beyond touched, somewhat confused, however. "You're sweet," she murmured in response, her smile softening into a small tug of her lips, "really, but I don't-" she paused, unable to formulate a coherent sentence to deliver her message; that just the thought that they were still together was enough for her. But she couldn't deny that she was happy- ecstatic, even- that they'd both eventually come to similar conclusions, meaning it was something else that they could work on together.
Simon took his chance to continue, the same feeling he got upon seeing her on their first date years ago sparking in his chest; that panicked, 'this-is-finally-happening' feeling. Suddenly, he saw her youth again, the young and fresh face he'd fallen for, noticing for the first time that, of everything about her, her eyes still carried the brightness of those days. Her youth and freedom still shone in them.
"Would you let me Am I allowed to fall in love with you again?"
A beam as wide as her entire face and as bright as the sun appeared on her face, his words reaching her, enlightening her to the love that she'd almost forgotten. Throwing her arms around his neck, Nina Price embraced her husband, his arms wrapping around her waist to hold her just as tightly.
"Of course, four-eyes," she giggled over his shoulder, bringing a smile to both of their faces at the sound of the first nickname she'd given him when they'd first met.
Over their shoulders, hanging amongst the plethora of photographs on the wall that lead the way upstairs, were two old photographs, taken at least thirty years previously. At opposite ends of the wall, a photograph of Nina on one of her primary school photo days, mirrored by a photograph of Simon on one of his primary school photo days- back in the years they first met.
Nina was a popular girl, the prettiest girl in her year group, many of the boys in her class developing silly, immature playground-crushes on her. Soon, it became known that, if anybody had the guts to dare her to do so, Nina would place kisses on the cheeks of any boy in her class. That was, except the glasses-clad blonde that everybody seemed to ignore. Simon was another of the boys who found himself developing this immature crush on the girl with such a reputation. He was deemed 'too quiet' for Nina to dare approach; that was until the day he decided he wanted to speak with her first, only to offer her a pen on a day she had forgotten to bring her own, to which she showed him a smile and offered him a pleasant 'thank you.'
Memories flooded the couple as they stood together, swaying once again, rocking to the rhythm of the silence that filled the kitchen, as though trying to dance to a ballad that wasn't even playing. Memories of their childhood, back in those days, how they never thought they'd become so much as friends. Marriage didn't even cross their mind in general at such a young age, but if told back then that they'd not only get married but would remain that way for up to eighteen years and even bring a child into the world, they both knew that the reaction of the little girl would be that of disgust.
She didn't like Simon very much at that age. It was nothing that he said or did, as if that had been the basis of her judgement, he'd probably have been given the chance to be her best friend at some point much sooner than when he actually did.
She would insult him; his glasses were too big for his face, the fact that he wore glasses in the first place, that he was a few centimetres shorter than her at the time, he had a 'strange' face, or even that he was so quiet.
Nobody had been given a reason to dislike Simon Price so much, but the popular Nina Lovell seemed to. She'd give any one of these as excuses if asked why she targeted him, which seemed to be enough for an eight-year-old. Still, Simon got on with whatever he could, even if it meant ignoring the girl he liked.
And so, his shy ways saw him through until age thirteen. By now, he had found himself in the same secondary school as Nina Lovell, who chose to ignore him for the most part, but the damage was already done. People had already chosen to pick on the short blonde, which had continued up until the bullying became serious, often resulting in him returning home with physical injuries. Eventually, his parents drew the line when he returned with a broken nose. Nina had heard about it the following day, her sympathies going to the boy she used to pick on too. In fact, the young brunette had decided to then finally try to talk to him and try to make amends for the negative impact she'd already had on his life. But by then, he'd already made his mind to move schools.
And eventually, Nina forgot about him.
It wasn't until their university days that they reunite. After so long, when the now matured blonde watched a girl he recognised very well enter the lecture hall, he didn't expect her to recognise him as easily as he had her. He was right. Nina sat right beside him, the only thought she had of him at the time was that he looked like a very serious guy, albeit a very attractive young man.
As soon as his name was mentioned, she heard the bells ringing in her head- no, they were alarms ringing in her ears.
And he rejected her kindness. She thought she had deserved it, but even so, he began to feel guilty for not giving her a chance. That was why he'd decided to befriend her properly.
The flashbacks of their entire lives together were drawn to a close as they thought then of their first date and how that escalated to a proposal, a wedding, and then eventually, the best decision they'd ever made together; Connor.
But now, as they knew, Connor was struggling, suffering from a life-changing illness that was already shifting their perspective daily.
Simon had observed Jonah's interactions with his son; how he comforted him, how he held him, and how he looked at him. It reminded him of those university years before he'd married the woman he now held so close to him, both physically and emotionally. And now, he needed to be a father and a husband. He needed to be there for the both of them.
Thus far a group of young adults, unaware of the similarity of their situations, all seem to have met the struggles of 'coming of age'.
Christine Scott attempted to finally settle; her smoking habits were things she desperately tried to let go of, and she'd found herself in a relationship that seemed to change like the seasons with every tick of a metronome. Although he'd made it very clear that night, at prom, that he was serious about liking her beyond platonically, Daniel still had his problems with Chris, very much like in any relationship.
The first time he voiced any concerns to her, it was regarding her voice. She spoke loudly, her whisper a rarity that only seemed to occur later in the day, as though the absence of the sun was her volume reducing. He'd mentioned to her that she needn't be so loud whether they were in public or not, and after she made minimal effort to remedy this problem, he grew frustrated, finding that her shout was much more overpowering than his own naturally low tones.
Daniel had also brought up her smoking after she had paid a visit to his family's home. Upon taking a step into his garden, he saw it as suitable to offer her the opportunity to light a cigarette if she felt she needed one, though he mentioned at the time that he disliked the smell of cigarette smoke. Chris had soon found that his issues regarding her smoking were incomparable to the urgency displayed by his mother as she proceeded to make her leave when she saw what she was doing. In what was almost an act of rebellion, Daniel left with her, walking the redhead to the closest park, where he encouraged her to finish her cigarette. Later that week, he asked her about whether or not she would ever stop. Chris only promised to refrain whilst at his home.
The first time they decided to break up, Chris had suddenly lashed out regarding something so simple as how little Daniel seemed to show interest in kissing her,
One thing that Chris had now noticed was that, despite his humour, Dan was hesitant and shy, much like how he had seemed while asking her to prom in the first place, and so she could understand the first few times he backed away from her instead of closing the distance between them. However, following their first kiss, she had expected it to be easier.
Upon being questioned about it, he responded simply.
"I told you already; I hate cigarette smoke."
Christine had 'cut down', which was obvious on her breath. It had taken some time to get used to fewer of her 'coping mechanism' every day, however, Daniel then noticed immediately that something wasn't quite right about her when she appeared at his door a week after her meeting with her other friends. She was shaking slightly, a darkened expression on her face. Thus, Daniel found out about her concerns; her worries for her friend overpowering her need for the cigarettes that she'd relied so heavily upon, now discarding them entirely.
She was struggling with stability. He kept her grounded.
And she thought, after so long, that she was in love.
Hazel Lane was a married woman. Her husband, Dominik, was incredibly disconnected.
As a student, he was barely considered social, having made contact with little to no other students in any of his classes. Other teens avoided him, ridiculed or bullied him until they got bored following the realisation that they wouldn't be getting a reaction out of their methods.
It was his interest in the outside world that kept him grounded at first, finding amusement whenever he attended a weekly photography club on Saturdays. Taking photographs of the garden and parks around his hometown became a relaxing pastime for the dissociated, young man, and eventually, he spoke more frequently to the members of the group around him once per week.
The manager of the group was an older woman in her early fifties, her face always graced with a smile, a look of enthusiasm that seemed to shine even brighter when she introduced her teenage daughter to the group. Young Hazel was an open and bubbly girl, approaching all existing members and offering them aid if they ever found themselves in need to anything. As she approached the isolated Dominik, a smile mirroring her mother's perfectly, he initially felt his heart sinking- somebody else trying to befriend or even bully him, only to be met with the same detached attitude that everybody else had chosen to avoid. He almost felt bad for her. But he was shocked when she sat down, hearing the first thing that she decided to say to him.
"You have a nice smile," she began. Dominik hadn't noticed that he had been smiling back at her as she had sat down. The detached boy had found happiness upon seeing her approach... Strange.
"Thank you." He barely knew what else to say.
"Can I see some of your photos?"
Hazel became another reason he attended the photography club and they would talk about their personal lives every day, sharing secrets and their innermost thoughts. Upon learning of his dissociative detachment, she didn't change. He was confused; they all changed. Hazel just didn't. She acted the same around him as she always had done, giving him hope and the chance to feel something real again. He was happy with her; free, alive, and eventually, he was in love. Dominik fought to show her how he felt every day, finally not being such an outcast because of her acceptance.
Dominik Lane was sweet to her, caring for her and showed his interest in Hazel clearly. His biggest battle was against himself; he had to show her, even with his condition. He had to be with the woman he loved. When he was, he continued to fight- fight his feard and his doubts that they'd separate.
He fought for stability. She kept him grounded.
And he knew, after so long, that he was in love.
It was as Connor voiced his concerns to Jonah about his worried, regarding the apartment, his treatment, his studies, and their relationship, that the darker-haired male at his side could assure him truly that he was working to help them both. Neither could protest, it was true, and neither could deny that they were both putting in much effort to secure themselves.
They both worked for stability. They kept one another grounded.
But they worried, after so long, that they'd fall apart.
They worried because after so long, they were in love