His Tiny Sun

Chapter 12 - Invisible Wounds

CHAPTER 12

Invisible Wounds

Warmth filled Jonah’s chest as the uncropped version of Alan’s new profile picture appeared on his screen.

? Jonah: Pfft. Photoshop.

He zoomed in on it to take a closer look at Alan’s face. He had the cutest awkward smile, the kind that made Jonah want to both compliment him and scold him for being insecure. He got it; society’s expectations were fucking insane. Jonah might have won the genetic lottery, but he’d seen his friends get bullied more times than he could count when they were in high school. Sean had had the curse of being one of the shortest boys in their age group—until he’d had a sudden growth spurt over one summer and joined the average-height-teenagers club. Isabel had never shown romantic interest in either boys or girls, which was unacceptable, according to prepubescent assholes. As for Elliot…

Jonah opened the Lovable Dorks group chat and reread his friends’ last messages.

? Isabel: I know! Why don’t you invite him to our party?

? Sean: unless he likes john then hes not welcome

? Jonah: He’s smart. I’ll have converted him by then

Jonah sighed. It was tempting, but he couldn’t ignore the loud alarm in his head telling him it was much too soon. He also couldn’t disregard the fact that he really wanted Alan to be there. He wished he could talk to someone—he was that desperate—but he knew exactly what sort of rehashed motivational bullcrap they’d slap him with: “He would want you to move on and be happy.” As though Jonah didn’t already know that.

He switched back to his conversation with Alan, the sight of his selfie once again filling him with warmth.

Do it.

? Jonah: BTW my friends are having a viewing party for the premiere of season 7

Fuck .

? Jonah: Well not so much as a party, it would just be us 4 if you wanna come

Bad idea.

? Alan: The same friends you were with the other day?

Too fast.

? Jonah: Yeah. It’s totally fine if you prefer watching it at home though

Say no.

? Alan: I’d love to!! They looked fun!

Fuck.

? Jonah: Nice! I’ll confirm the time and get back to you

Jonah put his phone down and glanced at the clock on his computer screen. Still eight minutes to go—during which he would undoubtedly accomplish nothing productive. His focus was shit. He couldn’t stop thinking about Alan. One minute he was elated, and the next he was terrified. It didn’t help that he still wasn’t getting any good sleep. Luckily, his annual performance review was a month ago, so it didn’t really matter. He just had to be an excellent employee for three months a year. It never failed to earn him his maximum bonus.

‘Your productivity has doubled in the past quarter; well done!’

Jonah cast a murderous glare at his screen as he clicked on the ‘next’ button with more force than necessary. Browsing stock photos was what he hated the most about his job. How the hell was he supposed to make anything innovative out of pictures of middle-aged white men shaking hands in front of an empty meeting room? It was as though those websites were stuck in the fifties: stereotypes upon stereotypes, topped with a generous dose of sexism and heteronormativity.

“Why don’t you head out early today?” Jonah’s boss said from right behind him. Cubicles were the fucking worst. “Go enjoy the sun, it’s a beautiful day out there.”

Jonah spun his desk chair around and faked a smile. “Thanks.”

His boss slapped Jonah’s shoulder with a big grin and walked away .

So generous of you to let me leave five minutes early.

Jonah grabbed his phone and looked at his conversation with Alan, anxiety squeezing his throat at what he’d just done. Alan had been surprisingly understanding about his needs, but it hardly mattered. Jonah found himself incapable of telling him no. Their date wasn’t supposed to end with them walking hand in hand, sharing a meal, and going to the grocery store together like a goddamn couple.

What if Alan asked for permission to kiss him on Saturday? Or worse, what if he asked to come over to his place?

Jonah sighed as he looked at the clock. There went his five minutes.

———

“You’re not listening.”

Jonah rinsed the plate he’d just washed and put it on the drying rack. “I am.”

“What did I just say?” his mom asked.

“Ann’s daughter had her name legally changed to Penelope,” Jonah repeated with the enthusiasm of a lamppost.

“No, I told you that five minutes ago. Jonah, have you been having trouble sleeping again?”

Jonah let out a sigh as he scrubbed melted cheese off their forks. “I’m fine, mom. I just had a long day at work.”

His mom placed her hand on his arm, instantly making him grit his teeth. “You would tell me, right?” she said with that tone of voice he couldn’t stand anymore. “If, you know…”

“I said I’m fine!” Jonah spat out, then hissed as a glass broke in his hand. “Fuck!”

“Jonah!”

“I’m fine. I don’t need your help!” He rushed to the bathroom and slammed the door with his foot, then put his hand in the sink and turned on the faucet. “Fuck.” Of course, it had to be his right hand.

The cuts didn’t look too bad, but they hurt like a bitch, and he’d dripped blood all over the floor from their kitchen to the bathroom, which meant his mom was now on her achy hands and knees to wipe it off. He had to get his shit together—and fast—before he ended up hurting someone.

Jonah turned off the faucet and crouched to grab the first aid kit from underneath the vanity, making sure to keep his right hand over the sink. He dried it with the darkest towel in sight, then started working on his bandages.

He wasn’t completely useless with his left hand, at least. When he was younger, he’d often practiced drawing with both hands at the same time. His goal was to become skilled enough to record himself and post the videos on their channel, but he dropped the project. He dropped everything. Except his promise.

Putting bandages on with just one hand was still a slow and frustrating process, but he eventually managed something acceptable. The cuts weren’t severe enough to require medical intervention. However, Jonah would still have to avoid using his hand for a while.

Jonah couldn’t help feeling a sense of relief. All the projects he was currently working on bored him to death. Sometimes it felt as though his brain was atrophying from understimulation, but the pay was good and the job was easy, so he had no other choice but to endure. He only had a few months left anyway. He would soon be too busy to work full-time.

Jonah took his phone out of his pocket and put it on the counter, then composed an email with his left hand to let his supervisor know he wouldn’t be showing up to work tomorrow. He put his phone back into his pocket before opening the door, predictably finding his mom on her hands and knees. He sighed. “Mom. You didn’t have to.”

“It’s no big deal,” she said dismissively.

No wonder he was so stubborn; the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

Jonah held his left hand out to help her get on her feet.

“How bad is it?” she asked, studying his bandages.

“It’s minor.”

His mom gave him a heartbreaking look. He hated when she did that. “You know you can talk to me about anything.”

“I know, mom. I have nothing to talk about.” It was a lie, but he just couldn’t sit at the kitchen table with a nice cup of tea and tell her about Alan.

You see, mom, there’s this boy I really like. Don’t get too attached to the idea of meeting him, though, because I’ll inevitably find a way to ruin it.

She nodded, even though he could see in her eyes that she didn’t believe him. “You can go downstairs,” she said as she walked away. “I finished cleaning the kitchen.”

Of course she did .

Jonah made his way to his room, where he threw his phone on his bed and let himself crash next to it. He glared at the spiderweb he still hadn’t removed. There wasn’t much he could do with just one hand, but dusting his room would still be manageable. Not tonight, though.

Jonah perked up as an idea hit him—maybe he could tell Alan he had to cancel their plans because he couldn’t drive safely? Not to push him away. Just to slow things down a bit.

No. That’s a stupid excuse.

Sean and Isabel lived a walking distance from Jonah’s home, and Alan was used to getting around without a car. He would know right away that something was up.

Jonah stared at his phone for a moment, then picked it up and reread the texts Alan had sent him the day before.

? Alan: I’m excited for Saturday!

? Alan: Do you think John will steal the show?

Jonah had never taken this long to respond, which meant Alan had probably started worrying already. Jonah couldn’t reasonably delay any longer.

? Jonah: Sorry I didn’t see your messages

? Jonah: John always steals the show

? Alan: Can I call you?

Shit.

? Alan: It’s okay if you’d rather not

Jonah groaned. That was the thing; he’d been yearning to hear Alan’s voice ever since he got back home after their date. He even came close to calling him at one point, when he was hit with that suffocating feeling that preceded all of his restless nights. Jonah had resisted, though; talking on the phone was something couples did, not…whatever it was they were.

Maybe something came up.

? Jonah: Yeah

His phone rang almost instantly, a happy Alan hugging a grumpy cat showing up on his screen. Jonah would have to update Alan’s contact picture later. He liked his recent selfie better.

He took a deep breath, then answered the call. “Hey.”

“Hii! ”

Jonah felt his heart melt. His apprehension melt. His fear melt—then come back full force.

His stomach feigned expelling the butterflies that had taken residence uninvited, then relaxed, but not without leaving behind severe heartburn.

He wished Alan were here. He wished he didn’t wish he were.

“You sure you don’t mind me calling?” Alan asked. “It’s just that I hurt my hand so typing is really difficult.”

Jonah sat up. “You hurt your hand?”

Alan groaned. “Yeah…I did something stupid. It’s embarrassing.”

“What kind of injury? Can you move your fingers?”

“I’m fine, no worries! I just uh…burned it.”

“While cooking?”

Alan stayed silent for a moment, then offered an unconvincing, “y-yeah,” before blatantly changing the subject. “So, I was wondering about Saturday.”

“Hm?”

“You said you’d get back to me?”

Right. He’d forgotten. Jonah’s focus really was shit. “I don’t have the exact time yet, but they said they wanted to rewatch the last two episodes of season six first, so I’m thinking maybe we could get there one hour early, unless you prefer—”

“—Okay! Do I need to bring something?”

“Snacks,” Jonah said with a smile. “You need to bring snacks. Otherwise, you can’t get in.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s a stupid rule they came up with. They call it their entry tax.”

Alan giggled. “That’s funny! What will you bring?”

“A plate of crudités just to piss them off. They both hate vegetables.”

“Okay, but let’s say I don’t want to piss them off, what should I get?”

“Just bring anything. It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh. Okay,” Alan said, audibly disappointed.

Jonah mentally kicked himself. Alan wanted to make a good first impression—like any normal person would—and he wasn’t helping at all. “Isabel likes trying new things. If you really wanna make her happy, bring the weirdest shit you can find, as long as it’s composed of carbs. Sean never matured beyond fourteen years old, so anything with a funny shape, really. But carbs.”

Alan chuckled. “Funny shape. Okay! Do they live far away? What time should I be ready?”

“About that…”

“Hm?”

“I might not be able to pick you up.”

“Oh! Oh, that’s totally fine. Sorry I assumed…”

“I mean I want to. But I also injured my hand.”

Alan gasped. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I broke a glass while I was washing the dishes. It’s no big deal, but it might not be safe for me to drive.”

“Does it hurt a lot?”

Jonah was about to downplay it, but changed his mind. Alan would wonder why it wasn’t safe for him to drive if he lied about the pain. “Yeah. It just happened like twenty minutes ago.”

“Aww. I hope it heals fast. No worries about the ride, though. I can ask Eri—I can take the bus.”

Jonah wrinkled his nose. He would never say it out loud, but having an automatic car would have been convenient in this case. “I might be fine by then. I’ll let you know.”

“I really don’t mind taking the bus.”

Jonah cursed himself for mentioning it. Now, Alan would always insist on taking the bus whenever they went somewhere together. It would be a pain in the ass to have to convince him every time…

Jonah’s eyes widened.

Oh.

Then he exhaled a long, silent breath.

It wasn’t Alan’s fault if things were going too fast; it was his own. Jonah had been subconsciously including Alan in most of his summer plans. This hadn’t happened to him since…

Jonah looked at the picture on his desk with a heavy heart. He still recalled the teasing spark Elliot had in his eyes when he told Jonah truths he didn’t want to hear. It annoyed him so much back then, but now, Jonah would give anything to see it again.

Jonah held Elliot’s static gaze for a moment. He knew exactly what he would say if he were here, “ You’re scared because he matters to you. Otherwise, why would you be? ”

“Are you still there?” Alan asked.

Jonah squeezed his eyes shut. “I like giving you rides, so you better get used to it.”

“Aw. I like it too,” Alan said with a timid voice. “You drive really well.”

Better than that maniac, for sure.

Jonah lay down on his bed and held his phone with his shoulder to give his hand a break.

“So, um…” Alan said after a short silence. “Did you have a good day?”

Jonah spent most of it attending meetings that could have been emails, during which he was too distracted to pay attention, as he was actively trying not to think about the man he was currently on the phone with. “It was fine.”

“You’d tell me if you wanted to hang up, huh?”

“I don’t,” Jonah said earnestly. “I just had a really boring day.” He took a silent breath, willing his palpitating heart to slow down as he made himself say more words that scared him. “But I’d like to hear about yours.”

“You promise to tell me if you wanna hang up?”

“I promise.”

“I had a really nice day,” Alan said cheerfully. “First, I went to the Goliath Café. I didn’t forget to eat breakfast this time.” He chuckled. “I wrote for a little bit—I don’t believe I ever told you I write?”

“No.” It wasn’t a lie. “What do you write?”

“Promise you won’t make fun of me?”

“I promise.”

“I write fanfiction.”

Jonah smiled. “D’you like it?”

Well duh.

“Yeah! I love exploring characters’ hidden depths and motivations, their thought process when having to make a difficult decision, and their emotions when faced with the resulting consequences.”

And the way Alain would suck John’s cock in great, great detail. “That sounds interesting.” Jonah took his phone in his hand again, then turned to lay on his side. “What else did you do?”

“I took a walk in the same park we went to last Sunday. It was a lot less crowded this time. I found a perfect spot in the shade and sat down to read a book. It was really nice— oh , and a butterfly landed on my knee! I wasn’t quick enough to take a picture, though.”

“Did you look like a flower?”

Alan chuckled. “What?”

“The butterfly. It mistook you for—”

“—Oh!” He laughed. “My shirt was yellow. Maybe that’s why.”

Or you just smell too good.

“Ah! I gotta go!” Alan said in a rush. “But I uh…” He lowered his voice. “I really enjoyed our call.”

Say it.

“Me too.”

A faint squeak came from Alan’s end. “Byee!”

“Bye.”

Jonah let his arm drop and stared at his dresser for a moment, sorting through the cacophony of thoughts colliding in his head.

He matters to you.

It wouldn’t be easy, especially when the time came to tell Alan about Elliot, but Jonah didn’t have to think about that now. He wouldn’t be bringing up the topic any time soon.Jonah had to focus on the present, or specifically, on the way Alan made him feel. The future was unpredictable—that was something Jonah had been painfully aware of since he was fifteen—but denying himself the right to get attached to someone wouldn’t protect him from anything. It would only make him lonely and miserable.

Jonah rolled out of bed, put his phone into his pocket, and made his way upstairs. Predictably, his mom was sitting at the table, doing French crossword puzzles like she always did at this time of the day. She didn’t look up, but he could see in her body language that she was in attentive-mom mode, ready to offer her help at a second’s notice. Jonah walked to the counter and reached for the kettle, making her get up from her chair instantly. If her knees didn’t hurt so much, it would have been funny.

“Let me help you with that.”

“Thanks.” He usually refused, but he resisted the urge this time. Now was not the time to argue with her. Instead, he pulled out a chair and sat at the table .

Jonah’s mom hummed a soft melody while she scooped some tea leaves into the teapot. She was obviously aware that he wanted to talk to her, but she pretended not to have noticed, giving Jonah some time to focus on his breathing while they waited for the water to be ready. A few minutes later, she placed two cups on the table, followed by the teapot.

Jonah took a deep breath. “Mom,” he said as she sat back down. “I may…have met someone.”