Simple//Tradley:Jonnor

Strong

^I changed it to a Jonnor one because this chapter is Jonnor asf^

Get the tissues ready

~

Connor and James were in their shared room, lying on James' bed in silence. They were turned towards each other, staring at each other, taking in all of the things that they hadn't noticed before. A freckle here a there. A mole. A scar. Small things which you could only see up close. Connor loved the sandy-blonde's eyes especially, how they were a mix of blue and green, like a tropical sea. The colours danced around in his eyes, making them - to Connor - the prettiest things he had ever seen, the eighth wonder of the world, the deepest ocean which held secrets beyond imagination. But now they shone with tears, tears which flowed down the boy's defined cheeks and splashed onto the pillow. Tears which held tales of sorrow and pain, tales which had never been told to anybody else by the boy with the ocean eyes. Connor frowned and reached up a hand, gently brushing away the tears which fell down the older boy's face. "Do you wonder if we'll ever get better?" James whispered the question, but the shorter boy still heard it. He nodded in reply, searching the older boy's eyes for something to answer why he was crying. "Do you think we will?" The sandy-haired boy whispered again, causing the younger boy to hesitate. Would they? He knew that Tristan and Brad would - he could see the progress they made every day, watched as they helped each other heal themselves. But Connor and James? Would they get better? James seemed to be sinking further into himself day after day and Connor certainly had no intentions of speaking to anyone other than the angel lying in front of him. It was only when the ocean eyes disappeared from his view that the brunette realised he had taken too long to reply and the taller boy now knew what he thought. "I get it." James whispered, sounding completely vulnerable. Connor frantically shook his head but the other boy still had his eyes closed, so he placed his soft hand on the sandy-blonde's tear-stained cheek to get his attention. James still didn't open his eyes. "I don't think I will, either. I've never told you about what happened to me, about why I'm like this. I've never told anybody." He paused, giving himself another chance to back out of what he was about to do, but he didn't. "I think I should, if you want to hear it" The ocean eyes opened and Connor could see a storm brewing, the light greens fading to dark blues. He simply nodded and waited for James to start his story, not wanting to pressure the older boy to speak. It was memories like this one that people remembered as much as if it happened the day before, but the sandy-haired boy had spent so long drowning in the memory and having nightmares about that moment, he didn't know what was definitely real and what was just his mind. He tried to get the story straight in his mind, as Connor's thumb stroked his cheek, before he started to recall what had happened.

It was cold on that night, so cold that it had started to snow. Seven-year-old James had ran to the window with a bright smile on his face, watching as the white clumps settled on the snow-covered ground. It was late for James to be up, around 11 at night, but he couldn't sleep, he didn't know why, but now he knew it was snowing he didn't bother trying to go back to bed. The boy wanted nothing more than to play in the cold snow, seeing as it hadn't snowed the year before so he didn't get a chance to. He figured, why not? His parents and sister were asleep so there was nobody to stop him from playing for as long as he liked and when he was done, he would simply slip back inside the house and get back into bed.

With this idea in his mind he crept out of his room, down the stairs and to the front door. He cracked it open and peaked at the snow outside, which looked orange from the glow of the streetlamps, letting a grin take over his face. He quickly shoved his feet into his shoes and slipped out of the house, before running out into the street and starting to dance around in the snow. It was cold, but the adrenaline of sneaking out of the house and the excitement of the snow made him ignore it as he threw snowballs at houses and wrote things on the windows of cars. The whole time he was playing, he didn't notice a dark figure stood at the corner of the street, watching James like an eagle would watch a mouse.
He walked towards the little boy, the hood of his black hoodie sheltering him from the snow. "Hello, little boy, what's your name?" James dropped the snowball in his hands and whirled around to see the man, his heartbeat picking up.