Chapter Three

Chris had left hours ago, stuttering goodbyes in his crazy nervousness and even shaking a little. Despite the numerous times that Jonathan told him to calm down, Chris just couldn't help freaking out. It was a really important night for him.

So now, five minutes to eleven, Jonathan was laying in his bed and trying to go to sleep. He thought he nearly got there once, then his body kindly jerked him into consciousness again. His eyes flew open and he looked around for a bit before his mind cleared and he realized what was going on. Then he closed his eyes again and tried once more for sleep.

He thought he sensed a presence standing in his doorway, and he could hear faint sobs emerging from the same direction. Just as he peeked over, a tall, shadowy figure began to leave.

“Chris?” Jonathan called out. The shadow stopped and backtracked a little.

“Yeah?” Chris tried to inconspicuously reply, but his voice cracked.

“What happened?” A moment of silence passed before Chris decided to fully walk into Jonathan's room, and even go as far as to lay down next to Jonathan. He brought with him a sort of cold air, which seemed to be emanating from the jacket he was wearing. And now, having obviously been caught, he was no longer trying to hide his tears.

“Jay, it was awful.”

“I'm sure you're exaggerating-”

“No,” Chris forcefully said. “I know I get paranoid sometimes and make things sound a thousand times worse than they actually are, but I swear to you that this is not one of those times. It was awful.”

“OK,” Jonathan replied in defeat. “Well, why was it awful?”

Chris sniffed and tried to steady his breathing, quite successfully. “OK,” he began, “so everything was going all right... then James suggested we go to a bar. I didn't really want to, but he insisted and... I just couldn't say no. I mean, I didn't think it would be that bad.”

“A bar?” Jonathan quietly repeated.

“Yeah, but I didn't drink or anything,” Chris insisted. “That stuff's nasty.”

“Well, OK, but how did you guys even get in?”

“James convinced them we were old enough. Anyway, it was fine at first. We sat up at the actual bar... there were quite a lot of people there. But it was fine, and James and I talked a lot. And I thought we were getting along great.”

Chris went silent for a while. Jonathan listened to his uneven breaths, waiting for him to go on. But when he didn't, Jonathan asked, “What happened?” Through the darkness he saw Chris turn his head, his usually bright blue eyes just barely visible.

“I left to go to the bathroom- which, by the way, is an entirely different story- and when I came back out, I was just really tired and I wanted to go home. So I walked back to James, and he was talking to some other guy who was sitting next to him, so I waited a while and just kinda sat around. Then I finally got to ask him if he'd take me home, but he said he wasn't ready to leave yet. But I was getting really uncomfortable being there, and he was drinking quite a lot, and, I mean, I don't know how to drive and if he's too intoxicated... but I didn't want to say that, so I just asked him again to please bring me home. And then he,” Chris's voice was overcome with sobbing, but he still tried to finish his story, “then he told me I was ruining his night and he called me a stupid cunt and said that if I wanted to go home, I'd have to find my own way because he didn't want to deal with me anymore.”

Jonathan was temporarily speechless, but he eventually mustered up some words. “Chris, wh.... How did you get home?”

Chris gave a small shrug and in a quiet voice answered, “I walked.”

“You walked??” Jonathan incredulously iterated. “How long did that take you?”

“I don't know, like an hour and a half.”

“Weren't you, like, freezing?” Chris nodded his head in response, and Jonathan sat up. “Chris, why didn't you call? My mum could have gone and picked you up-”

“No,” Chris interrupted, leveling himself with Jonathan, “Jay, your mum already does enough for me just letting me stay here with you guys. I couldn't call her up at nine-thirty at night and ask her to pick me up from some bar!”

“But what if something had happened to you out there? It's dark, and cold, and who knows what sort of people wander around at this time of night?”

“I wasn't thinking about that, Jay, I was a little upset,” Chris slowly replied. “Besides, it's all over now. Everything's over. Tomorrow... I'll wake up, and it'll be like none of it happened.”

“Can you really do that?” Chris looked up at Jonathan and stared. “Just forget about it?” Jonathan clarified.

“It's what I always do when bad things happen,” Chris innocently replied. “You can't focus on the bad stuff, Jay, or else you won't ever get anywhere in life.”

Jonathan subconsciously nodded along. “Well, you're a much stronger person than I am, then. I wouldn't be able to get over something like that so easily.”

Chris gave a tiny and slightly unenthusiastic smile. Then he yawned and rubbed his eyes. “I'm gonna go to bed now, Jay. Goodnight, and thank you for... listening. But in the morning, none of it happened, remember that.”

“All right,” Jonathan agreed, and he watched Chris leave before he laid down and closed his eyes again.

His dream was a blurry swirl of visions: he vaguely recalled a horse- or perhaps a unicorn, who knows?- something having to do with the Italian mafia, and he thought he even saw Chris in there at one point. But none of that was entirely unusual; at any given time he could easily rattle off at least three dreams he'd had in the past year, all involving those three things.

There was the first one, where he was riding a horse through what he assumed were uninhabited woods. But as he rode deeper and deeper in, he began to hear voices. At first he thought he was just going crazy, since the voices grew louder, but never amounted to anything. Then he finally ran into the source of the noise. Hidden among the trees was a small gang of people, gathered around one man laying on the ground. They were all laughing at him. Jonathan came closer, and soon identified the man as Chris, but he didn't know who the others were. Somehow he had made the connection in his conscious state the next morning that it was a group of mobsters. In any case, he felt the need to save Chris from this unfortunate scene, but before he could he either woke up, switched to a different dream, or he just couldn't remember the rest.

The second one was similar, except that he wasn't the one riding the horse. He was one of the mobsters, and Chris was riding the horse. In the dead of night, Chris traveled to Jonathan's small apartment in the middle of New York City, all the while carrying an intensely important document. But somehow during the trip, the document had been destroyed or lost, and while Jonathan wasn't so upset about it, he knew the others would be. And he knew they'd go after Chris, even if they went for Jonathan first. Jonathan realized that the mistake had been Chris's fault, but he still felt this urge to protect him. The dream never really concluded in any manner other than abrupt, though.

The third one was probably the oddest one. He and Chris were both the horses, as were the mobsters. They had just been two innocent colts who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. But the mobsters didn't care, and soon there was a contract out for both of their lives. They ran and ran, but their hooves never moved them fast enough to escape their awful fate. Jonathan woke up in a panicked sweat after that one.

Once the sun rose and decided that it was going to be a new day- a Saturday, in fact- so Jonathan rose and decided that he needed to stop having such weird dreams. Of course, this was not something he could really control, and he knew that, but regardless he decided it needed changing.

Downstairs, Chris was already awake and perky as usual, despite that which Jonathan had been told to forget regarding the previous night. Jonathan observed Chris's seeming carelessness as he poured himself a cup of tea, feeling just a little jealous that Chris could so skillfully move on with his life.

Minutes later Penny joined the boys, still donning her light pink bathrobe and matching pink hair curlers. She had long ago stopped caring about her early morning appearance, as Jonathan had always been her son, and as of late Chris had become part of their family. If they were to ever have another guest stay overnight, then things would be different, but with the boys Penny felt comfortable enough.

“Morning, dears!” Penny cheerfully sang as she glided across the tiled floor to the counter to grab a cup of tea.

“Morning, Penny,” Chris replied in the same chipper tone. “Sleep well?”

“Yes, I did, thank you.” Penny quickly took the seat next to Jonathan and gently set down her cup. “I think I only woke once during the night. I can't remember if I had any dreams, either. You know, I've heard that if you don't recall dreaming, it means that you've had yourself a deep sleep. Of course, I'm not sure how true that it, you know how people are nowadays.” Penny gave a small laugh, then tilted her head slightly. “How was your date last night, hmm?”

“Oh,” Chris instantly said, and Jonathan held his breath. He expected Chris to break down at any moment. “It was... well, I mean, I really liked him, but... sometimes two people just aren't meant to be together. It happens.”

Chris shrugged a little and Penny nodded her head sadly. “I'm sorry to hear that, but you're right. It'll probably happen more times than you'd like, but I will tell you one thing: that doesn't mean you should give up, because one day you will find that person who you're meant to be with. I can promise you that. And when you do find that person... well, you'll just know.”

“Thank you,” Chris sincerely said, then turned to Jonathan, who was in a state of total disbelief at Chris's nonchalance. “Hi, Jay,” Chris awkwardly said.

“Hi, Chris,” Jonathan returned, coming to his senses and turning his focus to his cup of tea. But he was still shocked that Chris could act like that when less than twelve hours before he'd been spilling tears onto Jonathan's pillow. “Do you have any plans for today?”

“Nope.”

Jonathan looked up at his mother and squinted. “Do you have any plans for today?”

“Are you kidding me?” she laughed. “After the week I've had, there's no way I'm doing anything except laying on the sofa and watching TV all day. You boys should go out and do something, though. Make use of your youth while it's still there.”

“Well, then, what do you say, Chris? Should I haul out the old game console, or is that not a youthful way of spending our time?”

Chris crinkled his nose, trying to stifle his laughter, and rolled his head around as if he was searching for the answer in the air. He looked a little like a slowed-down bobblehead. “Eh, I think I've had enough of video games to last me another... month or so.” He returned his head to its normal position and stared down at his hands resting on the table. “I... um, I think I'm gonna go up to my room. I probably have some homework to do.”

“On a Saturday?” Penny asked. Then she quickly changed her mind and waved her hand. “Never mind. Enjoy your homework, then.”

“Yeah, I'll try,” Chris said in a slightly sarcastic tone. But he smiled at Penny and Jonathan as he left, anxiously climbing the stairs and flying down the hall to his room.

He closed the door and hopped onto his bed, pulling open the only drawer his nightstand contained and reaching inside for a large stack of papers. He also grabbed the pen that was floating solo under the papers, then sat back against his pillows. Of course, at that exact moment, a knock sounded through his door.

“Come in!” he shouted as he stashed the papers under his pillow and quickly shut the drawer. He returned to his former position as fast as he could, trying to not raise any suspicion. Jonathan inched into the room, and the instant image of Chris smiling at him, hands clasped and resting on his lap, did nothing to assure him that everything was normal.

“I hope you don't mind... I wanted to talk to you.” Jonathan stood at the foot of Chris's bed, scratched the back of his neck with a burning nervousness, and looked down at his feet.

“About what?” There was a hint of fear in Chris's voice. Jonathan sighed and let his hand fall to his side.

“Uh...” He tried to find the exact words, and while doing so he raised his eyes to Chris. It was almost as if Chris knew what Jonathan wanted to say without him even needing to vocalize it, which seemed to be happening an awful lot as of late. Jonathan was nearly glad for this, since he found that he just couldn't say what he was going to and risk making Chris feel bad. “Forget it. Is it all right if I stay in here?”

“Yeah, of course,” Chris replied with a smile. “Jay, are you sure there's nothing bothering you?”

“It's nothing, don't worry.”

“All right,” Chris said after a few moments of silence, his tone wrought with disbelief, “but if you need to talk, I'm always here to listen.”

“Thanks.” Jonathan thought it very strange that Chris would be so willing to help other people with their problems when he had problems of his own that were what Jonathan estimated to be ten thousand times worse than any he'd ever faced. But he never brought it up to Chris, because he didn't want to interfere with the way Chris handled his own life. After all, he wouldn't like people prying into his affairs all that much.

“Well, I think we should at least talk about something, then, if you're going to be staying in here.” Chris patted down the mattress, beckoning Jonathan to sit next to him. Then he reached over to his nightstand and grabbed the book that was laying on the top of a large stack. “I know, I will read to you.”

“Works for me,” Jonathan said as he made himself comfortable. He watched as Chris tried to locate his spot in the book.

“Ah!” he exclaimed when he finally found the page he was looking for. Then, after clearing his throat, he continued, “OK... Winthrop placed his hat carefully on the coat rack. All was silent in the hall, but in the distance he heard the faint sound of Rosalia shuffling about the kitchen. Rosalia is his wife,” Chris explained, and Jonathan nodded his head. “She must be preparing dinner, he thought, because it is nearly five o'clock. I should tell her to make enough for three. Emilio should be here any moment. He glanced back at the door, hoping that it would suddenly burst open with Emilio's bright image...” Chris paused for a while, then looked up at Jonathan. “He's in love with Emilio.”

“I probably could have guessed that,” Jonathan replied. A silence hung between the two boys, and Chris looked back at the book in his hands, the enthusiasm to read to Jonathan beginning to die.

“I remember when I first read this book. It was... strange... Jay, can I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

“I got this book when I was twelve. It was one of the ones that I bought by myself- I think it's obvious that my parents didn't buy it.” He laughed, but Jonathan thought he saw a tiny wince as well. “I didn't know what it was about when I got it, but anyway, I read it, and... I just felt this really, really deep connection to it. I thought it was the best piece of literature I'd ever read. Of course, I was twelve, and what did I really know about literature?” Chris flipped the book over and ran a finger down its spine. “Last summer I reread it, and I realized that it's actually not written as well as I had thought.”

“That's happened to me before,” Jonathan said to fill in the sudden gap in conversation. “I've read books that I thought were great when I was younger, and then it turns out their awful. Kids like to praise bad things, I think. It makes for a terrible world.”

Chris watched Jonathan with thoughtful and polite eyes, but it was obvious that he had meant something more. “Jay, I knew when I was twelve. Twelve. My parents started setting me up with all those girls when I was thirteen.” He set the book down beside him, rested his chin in his hands, and just stared at it.

Jonathan wasn't really sure how to respond. He didn't even know if he should respond, or if he should just keep quiet and sit still. It saddened him much more than he'd expected that he couldn't help Chris. What made it worse was knowing that it was nothing compared to the pain he knew Chris felt, even if Chris never showed it.