His Tiny Sun

Chapter 13 - Crumb Trail

CHAPTER 13

Crumb Trail

Alan was thankful that Jonah’s hand had healed enough for him to drive. Had Alan taken the bus and arrived here first, he would have struggled not to flee back home. Jonah had warned him about Isabel’s obsession with snacks, but Alan had been convinced it was mostly a joke. Apparently not.

Isabel stood at her door with her hands on her hips and a severe look on her face. She looked like a bouncer at a club—or so Alan assumed; he'd only seen them in movies. She was nearly as tall as Jonah, making Alan feel tiny and vulnerable as she stared at the container he was holding.

“Entry tax,” she demanded.

Alan handed her his offering. “I made cookies.”

Isabel gasped, her entire demeanor changing in a flash. Her eyes grew wide and sparkled bright with excitement as she carefully took the container, like it was some kind of rare artifact. She held it over her head andvocalized a triumphant jingle, reminding Alan of that one video game where the hero was all dressed in green. “Coo—kies! Coo—kies! Sean! We have cookies! Homemade coo—kies!”

Jonah’s other friend ran down the corridor and slid on his feet, halting right in front of the door. “I knew you’d be cool,” he addressed Alan with finger guns, making him feel all happy inside.

Success.

“Unlike Mr. Crudités here,” Sean said with mock-disdain.

“Vegetables are good for you,” Jonah said as he shooed them out of the way and stepped into their apartment, followed by Alan.

“Shut up,” Sean retorted. “You’re not my mom.”

Jonah put his plate down on the entryway table, then took off his shoes. “Suit yourself if you wanna be constipated for the rest of your life.”

Alan’s eyes widened as he bent down to remove his own shoes. He had not been expecting that sort of conversation to happen mere seconds after walking through the door.

“My poop is none of your business,” Sean said .

Isabel took Alan’s arm and pulled him away from the door. “Bleurgh. They’re so juvenile when they’re together.”

Alan let out a small chuckle as he followed her, internally reminding himself that he had no reason to be scared of being alone with her. Her long ponytail swayed as she energetically led the way, brushing against Alan’s cheek as she wrapped her arm around his shoulder. The fabric of her oversized sweatshirt was smooth against Alan’s arm, and she smelled incredibly good, like a strawberry shortcake with an extra dose of vanilla. Alan would have to ask her about it later.

He filed that away in his list of potential conversation openers.

The room she led him to was eclectic and cozy—Alan’s favorite type of decor. There was a red sofa taking up most of the space, a yellow rocking chair, and a large brown leather chair with a mismatched ottoman—in which Alan instantly imagined curling up with a good book. Although it was still bright out, they’d shut the blinds and turned on a few lamps with lampshades of different shapes, colors, and motifs, casting various patterns of light against the walls. It looked as though they’d gone to a thrift store and bought whatever was in stock at that moment to furnish and decorate their living room. The ambiance was perfect. Alan loved it.

What had definitely not been bought at a thrift store was their TV. It looked brand new and was at least double the size of Eric’s, which Alan didn’t even know was possible. It was sitting on an old, rustic-looking TV stand that was filled to the brim with all sorts of game consoles, including most of the super retro ones.

Alan could see himself spending a lot of time here. He hoped they would become good friends.

He smiled as he cast a quick glance at the multitude of pictures covering the walls. He recognized the younger versions of Isabel and Sean who, interestingly, used to both have the exact same haircut. It was some sort of chaotic pixie cut, which looked pretty good on the both of them, Alan had to admit. They seemed to have always been remarkably close. Perhaps they were cousins?

There were pictures of Jonah and the freckled boy Alan had seen in those old videos, too. They didn’t seem to have any recent pictures of him, but there was a large frame with his portrait in it, from which was dangling the same stained-glass unicorn Alan had seen in Jonah’s car. Its design was very similar to their video channel logo. It piqued Alan’s curiosity.

“You can sit here,” Isabel said, gesturing at the sofa, where a gigantic teddy bear was already seated.

Alan suppressed a shiver as he instinctively sat close to it. The room was surprisingly cold. He regretted wearing a summer outfit.

Isabel sat in the brown chair and opened the container he’d brought, the look on her face bordering on comical fascination. “They’re beautiful,” she whispered fondly as she took a T. rex cookie and cradled it in her hands.

Dinosaur-shaped cookie cutters were all Alan could find on such short notice—well, apart from penis-shaped ones, but he doubted he’d have made a good first impression if he’d brought edible genitalia.

“Wait! Before you eat one…” Alan said as he looked through his backpack. “Jonah told me you like trying new things, so I got a set of unusual icing flavors. Here’s the list.”

Isabel took the slip of paper from his hand and squealed. “This is so epic . Sean! Stop arguing and come here! I’m about to eat a fried chicken-flavored cookie!”

“You know I’m right!” Jonah shouted from the other room.

“I can’t hear you!” Sean shouted back, then once again made his entrance by sliding on his feet across the floor. “Did you say fried chicken?” He gasped, then pretended to rip out the hair he didn’t have. “ Dinosaurs? ” He looked at Alan and gave him a nod of approval. “ You are my new best friend.”

Alan chuckled nervously. He wasn’t used to getting so much attention, and had no idea what to do with himself. Still, things were going remarkably well, so far. He was proud of himself.

Isabel snapped the cookie in two and gave Sean the smallest part. He didn’t comment on it—his instinct of self-preservation kicking in, probably.

“Why is it so cold in here?” Jonah complained as he joined them.

“Sean forgot the A/C—”

“—I’m not perfect , alright?” Sean interjected.

“No shit,” Jonah said as he put his veggies and dip down on the coffee table, alongside the bowls of chips, gummies, and chocolate-covered pretzels. He took a seat next to Alan, who had to use all of his willpower not to snuggle against him. The room was really cold. “And why is that thing here?” Jonah asked, jerking his chin toward the teddy bear.

Sean took a blanket from underneath the coffee table and threw it at Jonah’s head. “Don’t hurt Commander Bear-hugs’ feelings!”

Oh.

Alan barely managed to suppress a giggle as everything clicked into place: the cold room, the blanket, the gigantic teddy bear taking up most of the sofa. Sean had done it all deliberately to make them sit close to each other.

I’ll bake you all the dinosaur cookies you want.

Alan brought his knees to his chest as Jonah unfolded the blanket. He gratefully wrapped half of it over himself, pulling it up to his chin with a quiet sigh of delight. It was cheap and ugly—the sort that were often found in beer cases—and smelled like the inside of a deep fryer, but it was warm, which was all that mattered at the moment.

“Sorry,” Jonah whispered.

Alan smiled. “It’s okay.” He did his best not to look directly at Jonah’s hands, which were both resting on top of the blanket. Alan had a glimmer of hope that they’d be doing some sneaky handholding, but it was probably a good thing that they wouldn’t. Alan could feel the warmth of Jonah’s thigh against his right foot, and that sensation alone was almost enough to make him dizzy.

Slow. We’re taking things slow.

“Gimme that,” Jonah said, pointing at the list of icing flavors.

“Aren’t cookies bad for you, Mr. Perfect Consistency Stools?” Sean mocked.

“Ew. Sean,” Isabel said as she gently pushed him toward the rocking chair, then handed Jonah the slip of paper. “You can have one .”

“Then I’ll pick the best one—what the hell? Mac and cheese? Spicy tacos? Caesar salad?”

Alan chuckled. “Yeah, most are pretty weird.”

“You mean delicious,” Isabel corrected, before taking a bite of a triceratops’ tail.

Alan, who had sampled every single tube of icing, didn’t quite agree with her opinion. In fact, he’d almost thrown them in the trash, but Jonah told him to bring some ‘weird shit’, so he decided to trust him. It had apparently been a good call. “French toast is good,” Alan said. “It’s the yellow one. ”

“French toast it is!” Jonah leaned forward to pick up a yellow pterodactyl from the container Isabel was holding out for him, his shoulder pressing against Alan’s knee and turning his brain into a pile of happy mush. It would be a delightful but torturous night. “You worked hard,” Jonah said.

“It was fun,” Alan said, his face feeling much warmer than it should have, considering the refrigerator-like room temperature. He watched Jonah’s reaction closely as he took a bite, then broke into a wide smile when Jonah gave him a nod of approval. Jonah didn’t seem to be a fan of sugary foods, so it made his opinion all the more precious.

Sean suddenly burst out laughing—reminding Alan that there were other people in the room—and held out his headless dinosaur cookie for Isabel to see. “Reminds me of one of our videos.”

Alan knew exactly which one he was alluding to. “The one in which you two rate snacks from which you can bite the head off?”

“Yeah!” Sean exclaimed. “You watched it?”

Success.

“I did. It was really funny.”

Isabel chuckled and leaned back in her seat with a big smile on her face. “We were sooo high when we recorded it.”

“Speaking of!” Sean said, slapping his thighs and getting up from the chair. “You smoke?”

Alan shook his head. “No.” Even if he did, he definitely wouldn’t want Jonah to know.

Sean shrugged. “More for me!”

“Close the windows,” Jonah said, to which Sean replied by displaying two middle fingers behind his back as he walked away. Jonah sighed and got up. “Be right back.”

Alan watched Jonah’s enticing backside as he walked out of the room. Once he was gone, Alan turned to Isabel with a smile. It was the perfect opportunity to ask her one of the questions he’d prepared beforehand. His first pick was obvious. “I was wondering: what’s the meaning of your channel logo?”

“Honestly? I dunno. Jonah just thought it looked cool.”

“He made it?”

“Yeah.” Isabel smiled, an apparent wave of nostalgia washing over her features. “He was always so talented. He made individual ones for us too. Mine’s a crow,” she said proudly. “Sean’s is a rottweiler, and Jonah’s is a stallion.” The word stallion was accompanied by a hearty eye roll.

“What about the unicorn?”

Isabel looked like she was suddenly hit by thunder as she stuttered, “Oh, uh, that was for, uh, our friend Elliot—would you like something to drink? We have beer, lemonade—”

Was.

“—orange juice, grape juice, uh, some water maybe?”

No recent videos of him.

“I’m good, thanks!” Alan said.

No recent pictures of him.

“You sure?” she said with what sounded like a hint of desperation. “Don’t be shy!”

Jonah doesn’t have a stallion in his car.

Alan smiled. “Grape juice sounds great. Thanks.”

He has a unicorn.

Isabel all but ran out of the room, allowing Alan to gaze at the large portrait of young Elliot. It was obvious now; Jonah didn’t stop making videos with him because they’d simply grown apart. Something had happened—

Perhaps he just moved far away? No. His unicorn wouldn’t be in Jonah’s car if that were the case.

—something bad.

It’s a memento.

“You alright?” Jonah asked as he sat back down next to him.

“Yeah. Where’s the bathroom?”

“Second door to your left.”

“Thanks.”

Alan stood up and made his way to the bathroom as casually as possible. He closed and locked the door, then pulled out his phone as he sat down on the edge of the bathtub and typed, ‘elliot death elkvale’.

Alan slapped his hand across his mouth as horrifying headlines appeared on his screen.

'15-year-old beaten to death in Elkvale’

‘Teenager found dead in Elkvale, friends and family wait for justice’

‘Elliot Wilson’s murder: what we know so far’

‘Elkvale police have no suspect in Elliot Wilson’s tragic death’

‘Motive remains unclear months after 15-year-old Elliot Wilson’s murder’

Against his better judgment, Alan opened the last link.

The police are still investigating the murder of fifteen-year-old Elliot Wilson, whose body was found in a residential area of Elkvale on the night of May 16 by a passerby. The suspects are still on the loose, and a motive has yet to be identified. The community demands answers and justice, but the police have no leads.

According to friends and family, Elliot was a kind, generous boy with a heart of gold and a mission to make the world a better place. His brutal murder was a shock to the community and weighs heavily on his loved ones’ hearts as they try to find meaning in the gruesome act of violence.

On May 16, the teenager left his home at approximately 10 p.m. to meet with a friend at a park, but never made it to his destination. An unknown number of suspects intercepted him and beat him to death in an alley, leaving his body for a passerby to find. The boy had already succumbed to his wounds when the police arrived on the scene. The autopsy report concluded that he suffered multiple contusions before getting his skull cracked open—

Alan dropped his phone and reached the toilet just in time to avoid vomiting on the floor. The pressure in his stomach spread to his chest and throat, making him feel like he was suffocating. He choked and retched as tears streamed down his cheeks.

Breathe , he told himself, breathe .

He held on to the toilet seat as he stared blankly at the pieces of partially digested food floating in the water, a trail of spit hanging from his gaping mouth. He focused on his breathing for a moment, eventually managing to regain control of his lungs, but failing to keep his emotions contained as words from the article replayed in his head.

He was just a boy.

He was all alone.

He must have been so scared.

He died alone.

In horrible pain.

Why would someone do that?

“Everything okay?” Jonah asked with a soft knock on the door.

Oh, no.

Alan took a deep breath and willed his voice to stay even. “Yeah. I’m okay!” He got up, then gripped the counter with both hands as the room started spinning. He mentally listed everything in sight, even though the method had never really worked before. He was desperate.

Faucet, sink, soap, box of tissues, toilet.

“You sure?”

Toothbrushes, comic book, broken tile, spider, dead fly.

“Yeah!” Alan said as he flushed the toilet. He turned on the faucet to rinse his mouth, then looked into the mirror. There was no way Jonah would believe him; his face was all red and puffy. Jonah would ask him questions, which would inevitably lead to Alan breaking down crying, and then their night would be ruined.

Alan picked up his phone from the floor just as he received a notification.

? Jonah: We can leave if you’re unwell

Jonah’s concern about his well-being made new tears threaten to spill out, but Alan couldn’t just hide in the bathroom forever. It would only worsen Jonah’s worry. Alan had to get out. Now. He could do this. It would be okay.

Alan wiped the tears from his cheeks with the first towel in sight, then put an apologetic smile on his face and opened the door. “My stomach is a little upset.”

Jonah narrowed his eyes, making Alan’s anxiety ramp up. “A little upset?”

“Well…”

“Coming through! Gotta pee!” Sean shouted as he rushed down the hall. Before Alan had time to react, Sean had shoved him against Jonah’s chest and closed the bathroom door behind himself.

Jonah’s scent and warmth were all it took to make Alan cry again.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Jonah murmured as he wrapped his arms around him. “Is it because of Sean? Don’t mind him, he’s—”

“—No.” Alan shook his head. “I-it’s nothing.”

“Clearly, it’s not nothing . Come on, let’s go outside. I’ll tell Isabel we’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Alan nearly whimpered when Jonah released him from his grounding embrace. Pull yourself together , he ordered himself as he quickly made his way to the door, making sure to avoid looking in the general direction of the living room. Alan barely registered his surroundings as he put on his shoes and walked down the stairs, somehow finding himself standing outside the apartment building with Jonah, who was looking at him with deep concern.

“What happened? Can you tell me?” Jonah asked.

Alan stared at Jonah’s chest as he tried to come up with a story that would justify his emotional state. But all he could think of was a freckled boy with his skull cracked open.

“Is it something Isabel said?”

Alan shook his head. “No. It’s not…it’s…” He looked into Jonah’s eyes, and then his heart broke into tiny little pieces as everything suddenly made sense. The rides Jonah had insisted on giving him, even when they barely knew each other. The self-defense classes Jonah had suggested he take when they were discussing Alan’s unimpressive physique. The pain in Jonah’s eyes when Alan said he’d curl up into a ball and cry if someone attacked him.

Jonah had been worried about his safety.

Alan took a step forward and wrapped his arms around him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry .”

Jonah returned his embrace. “Please,” he implored, “tell me what’s wrong.”

“Your friend.” Alan squeezed him hard. “Elliot. I’m so sorry.”

Jonah’s arms dropped to his sides, releasing Alan from his embrace. His whole body became rigid, like a lifeless statue. He stood still. Completely still. Too still. Too silent .

Alan dug his trembling fingers into Jonah’s back and tried to keep his anxiety under control, but no matter how much he wished for this situation to sort itself out, he knew it wouldn’t. Jonah’s reaction was not a good sign.

“I’m uh…” Jonah began, his voice barely recognizable. “…getting a migraine. We should leave. I’ll go get your bag.”

Alan let go of Jonah and barely had time to see the fury in his eyes before Jonah disappeared through the apartment building door. New tears formed in Alan’s eyes and rolled down his cheeks as he stood alone, shame and regret constricting his airflow. Jonah had told him he needed to take things slow emotionally—why did he have to go and stick his nose where it didn’t belong?

Alan ruined their night. It was entirely his fault. He ruined everything. Jonah would never trust him again.

It didn’t take long before the door flew open, but even when Jonah physically joined him again, Alan wasn’t any less alone. Not once did Jonah’s gaze cross Alan’s as he exited the building and handed him his backpack, or when he started his car and backed out of the parking lot. Not a single word left Jonah’s lips while he drove all the way to Alan’s home and ignored his vibrating phone in the cupholder between them. Even as Jonah parked in front of Alan’s door, he kept staring right in front of himself, stiff and silent. Painfully, agonizingly silent.

Alan wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand and unbuckled his seat belt.

“Listen…”Jonah began in an unsettlingly detached voice.

Oh, no.

“I’m not an easy person to deal with.”

Alan put a smile on his face to try to convince his rising panic that he wasn’t dying. “I’ve been friends with Eric since we were kids,” he said. “I happen to have a lot of experience in the matter.”

Jonah smiled, but it faded almost instantly. He was still staring right in front of himself, his hands firmly wrapped around the steering wheel of his car. “You’re a great guy—”

No. No.

“—I don’t want to hurt you.”

No. Please, no.

How many times had Alan heard those words before? Would he have to become a monster to be deserving of a chance to be loved? “You can’t hurt me more than I’m already doing to myself,” Alan joked in desperation. “I’m very clumsy.”

“I’d appreciate it if you made it home in one piece. Please be careful.”

Alan swallowed around the painful lump in his throat. “I’ll do my best.”

“Good night.”

Alan didn’t reply. He couldn’t. Words wouldn’t form anymore. He got out of Jonah’s car, forcing himself not to look back as he dragged his feet toward the door. It was over.

It was over before it even started. It was over.

“ Stop calling me! ” Alan heard Jonah shout in his car.

Alan pressed his hand against his trembling lips as he climbed the stairs to his apartment, holding back his sobs as best he could while he tried not to hyperventilate. He opened his apartment door and bit his finger hard when he saw a pair of shoes he didn’t recognize. Eric was home, and he had company.

A loud hiccup broke out of Alan’s lungs. He didn’t have the time to take off his shoes. He could no longer hold it in. He rushed to his room and closed the door, dropped his backpack on the floor, and climbed into his bed, where he curled up into a ball and pressed one of his pillows against his face to absorb his sobs and cries.

In moments like this, the emptiness his parents had left in his heart felt agonizingly heavy.