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The sun is setting just as Jonas makes his way home, casting a warm orange glow on everything, and Jonas briefly wonders if he could try and make that particular colour with his lights. He had been hanging out with Mitch at the cove after school, the both of them trying to outdo each other’s powers with sharp shafts of solid light and large boulders glistening with seawater as they rise to the sky.
Jonas suddenly recalls Mitch tripping over his own feet when he had stepped forward to lift more rocks from the ground, and then planting face first into pebbly sand. A laugh bubbles out of Jonas, and he covers his mouth in case anyone catches him laughing to himself on the quiet street.
When he gets to his house, he’s in a completely chipper mood. Sidney rolls her eyes at him, because it’s obviously because of Mitch. He shoves her lightly in return. Sidney is just about to grab him to put him in a headlock, her hand curling around Jonas’ arm as he tries to jerk away from her, before Sue calls out to them for dinner.
They all sit down, Jonas and Sid at one table with their guardians and the rest of the younger foster kids at another.
The meal goes on without interruption, Sue amiably asking them about school, and even Dean’s stern face doesn’t bother Jonas as much as it usually does. Jonas takes another helping of food; he had been working pretty hard at the cove, trying to cut through with his bright golden lights the tall waves that Mitch brings up.
“Jonas, are you seriously having another helping? Don’t you think you’ve had enough ?”
Dean’s sharp voice wraps around Jonas’ throat and he chokes, his hand trembling slightly as he sets the spoonful back down.
“Oh, dear. He’s a growing boy!” Sue interjects before Jonas can stammer out a reply.
“He’s eighteen . He’s already hit his growth spurts,” Dean says pointedly.
Sue gives him a look, and Dean sighs heavily, but gestures to the food, his arm moving fast enough to make Jonas flinch the tiniest bit.
“Fine. Go ahead then.”
Jonas gulps. “Um – uh – no, you’re right. I should... I should be watching m-myself.” The words feel all wrong coming out of his mouth, like he’s choking out a part of himself. But Dean nods approvingly, and he feels himself ease away from the edge he had been on.
The tense moment is gone as soon as it had happened, yet Jonas can feel Sidney staring at him. He can’t meet her eyes in case she sees the watery tears that are filming over his own.
He stares into his empty plate.
You’re so damn weak, Jonas.
He and Sidney clear away the plates and they do the dishes in silence - Dean and Sue are still at the dining table, discussing things quietly.
Sidney wordlessly hands him the last plate to dry off before they both head up the stairs, Jonas trailing behind his twin. She goes into his room and he closes the door behind him.
“Sidney, I’m fine,” Jonas says before she can say anything.
“Well, he’s still a prick.”
Jonas sighs at her, looking behind himself to check the closed door. Nonetheless, he’s glad that Sidney agrees with the small part of him that desperately wants to stick up for himself, the one that wants to throw his plate to the ground and shout. But of course, he can’t do that.
Of course.
Sidney steps closer to him and puts her hand on his shoulder. “I love you, Jojo, alright? Dean is talking out of his ass. You don’t need to watch yourself.”
Jonas nods, his eyes burning slightly. He composes himself in the long seconds he leaves after she says the words, grinning at her. “You’re so sappy, Sid. I love you too.”
He knows that she sees through his shaky cover, but she doesn’t push, to Jonas’ relief. He doesn’t want to talk about this with her.
They say their goodnights, and Jonas switches off the lights before crawling under his covers. He doesn’t bother to try and go to sleep immediately. He needs to stop the choked up feeling in his throat, and so automatically brings up his text chat with Mitch, but his fingers still before he can type up a sentence.
What is he going to say, that Dean hurt his feelings for what, the millionth time, and complain about it to Mitch, who is probably sick and tired of his constant snivelling? Mitch wouldn’t do that, he’d deal with his feelings himself and get over it like an adult.
Deep blue lights start to seep from him into the darkness surrounding him, illuminating his room in a wash of sombre shades of navy.
Someday, he’s going to get sick of you, Jonas.
So he opens up Youtube and starts watching long video game play-throughs.
His eyes are tired and it’s almost 2am by the time he finishes his 3rd play-through. He turns off his phone and closes his eyes, but with nothing to distract him, the dark, sneering, intruding voices in his head start to snake into his thoughts, bringing up Dean’s voice again and again and again.
Haven’t you had enough ?
Seriously, Jonas?
Why are you such a failure, Jonas?
Tears spill out of his eyes, clearing warm, salty tracks on the sides of his chubby, rounded face. A sob wracks his body, and Jonas covers his mouth to prevent more from spilling out.
He tries to think happy thoughts. He tries to stand up to the scathing voices. But he can’t. Because they’re all true, aren’t they? They’re what everyone thinks of him, despite what Sidney and his friends and Mitch say. They just see the semblance of a decent person he manages to pass himself off as, because they obviously, somehow , can’t see the overwhelming flaws that define him.
His phone jumps with a text message, unexpectedly.
It’s one from Mitch. Jonas opens up the chat, and Mitch has sent him a picture of a smiling seal, along with the text “hahahdjs lol its u spotts”.
Jonas can’t bring himself to even smile at the photo, salty tears still very much running down his face. He searches for the words to thank Mitch for the photo, but any happy-sounding texts he comes up with sounds like a lie, both to himself and Mitch.
Jonas | 2:36 am:
“Thank you, Mitch.”
Mitch | 2:37 am:
“ha”
Mitch | 2:42 am:
“joey u ok?”
“whats rong”
Shit.
Jonas | 2:45 am:
“I’m sorry, I’m not feeling too good right now.”
Mitch | 2:46 am:
“wat happend”
“r u hurt????”
“was it that fuckfn pece of shit dean”
“waht did he fuckidn do to u ill brek his legs”
Jonas feels ready to burst into tears again at Mitch’s protective anger, because he cares about him, and that’s enough to set Jonas’ heart clenching in his chest.
Jonas | 2:48 am:
“It’s okay Mitch.
Jonas | 2:49 am:
"I mean... It kind of is because of Dean...”
Mitch | 2:49 am:
“fuckign shit i hate tbat fucing cop prick”
Before Jonas can text out a reply, Mitch has another text waiting for him.
Mitch | 2:49 am:
“do u want me to com ovr”
Jonas stills, and he knows he shouldn’t make Mitch go all the way to his house just to console him, but he texts out a “Can you?” to Mitch before he can stop himself.
Mitch | 2:50 am:
“ofc i can joey”
Jonas | 2:50 am:
“No, I mean, would you mind if you did? It’s almost 3 am.”
Mitch | 2:50 am:
“ofc i don fucking mind il l come ovr anytime u need”
Jonas | 2:51 am:
“Okay then... It’d be nice if you did. Thank you.”
Mitch | 2:51 am:
“omw. sit tite joey”
Jonas takes in a deep shuddering sigh, and hope sweeps through his entire body. But it doesn’t last, because he actually made his boyfriend walk all the way at 3 am to his house, and Jonas, Jonas is such a fat, whiny, annoying cry-baby, why couldn’t he just have texted Mitch like a normal person?
Jonas fists his small, useless hands in the sheets, and tears of frustration wash away the previous ones; his pillow is already damp and cold from all his pathetic crying.
He waits in the darkness of his room, the oppressive silence weighing on him like heavy bricks.
There’s a sharp rapping sound against his window, and he jumps. He sees Mitch’s angular face, outlined by his dark hoodie, peeking out above the window sill. Jonas quickly jumps out of bed and opens the window, and Mitch clambers in with a huff.
Jonas helps him up with hands on Mitch’s biceps, and Mitch gives him a crooked smile.
“Hey, Spots. You okay?”
Jonas pauses for a beat, and honestly shakes his head no.
Mitch frowns deeply and reaches down to wrap his solid arms around Jonas’ waist, bringing his face in closer to Jonas, but he pulls his face away, instead burying it in the warm cloth of Mitch’s plaid sweatshirt.
He breathes in the scent of the fabric, inhaling the faint smell of cigarettes and beer interlaced with pine-y deodorant, the smell of Mitch.
Mitch buries his face in Jonas’ dark, soft curls and strokes the back of his head so lovingly that Jonas’ chest heaves with a sob. Jonas hears Mitch breathe out a soft “Shit, Joey ”, and Mitch holds him impossibly closer, crushing him gently into his chest.
Jonas cries, even harder than he did before, so hard that he almost thinks he’s going to throw up on Mitch.
Mitch holds him until his sobs eventually turn into quiet sniffles and hiccups. Mitch pulls back and gently grasps Jonas’ damp chin with his long fingers, making him meet Mitch’s amber eyes. Jonas is surprised to see Mitch’s eyes glinting with a thin layer of tears, and he’s just about to apologise because he has no idea what would make Mitch Mueller cry except Jonas completely screwing everything up, when Mitch asks him, “D’ya wanna lie down, Joey?”
His rough voice is low and gentle, so Jonas nods dumbly and they make their way to Jonas’ bed. Jonas lifts the covers as Mitch shucks his sweatshirt and shoes, the both of them crawling into the warmth of the bed together.
They face each other, the inky blackness of the room interrupted by the outlines of each others’ faces, barely illuminated by the streetlights outside.
“Do ya wanna talk about it?” Mitch asks, his breath puffing over Jonas’ face.
Jonas shrugs slightly. He doesn’t know how to formulate the right words to explain the way he’s feeling right now. Mitch lets Jonas be silent for a bit, waiting patiently for a response as he strokes over Jonas’ back with a large hand.
Jonas takes in a deep, shuddering breath and says, his voice cracked and hoarse with left-over tears, “I think... I don’t know. I’m just over – overreacting at something – at something really small.”
“What did that fuck say to you, Joey?” Mitch’s voice is low, but it’s hardened with anger.
Jonas chokes on the words he’s trying to force out of himself, his voice stumbling and stuttering. “He just – I don’t know, he basically said that I shouldn’t eat so much, and I should – I should watch my weight, he says it a lot, and he’s right, I guess, but I made such a big deal out of it because I – I’m so sensitive, I’m so sorry, I’m being stupid - ”
“Y’re not stupid,” Mitch interrupts, “And it’s not your fault that you feel bad because of what that dick fuckin’ said.”
“But - ”
“No, Jonas, you don’t – fuck, I mean, you shouldn’t have to feel bad about yourself just because some dickhead doesn’t see how fuckin’ perfect you are. An’ there ain’t nothin’ wrong with being a little chubby – as long as you’re fuckin’ happy, and healthy, then who gives a fuck about anyone else?” Mitch pulls him closer into his arms as he says it, his forehead pressed against Jonas’.
Jonas’ heart eases out of the vice it had been in.
He looks into Mitch’s fierce, beautifully amber eyes, and actually starts to believes him.
“Y’re perfect,” Mitch murmurs to him again. Jonas curls his fingers into Mitch’s ratty shirt, and their lips meet for a gentle kiss. Jonas sighs into it, Mitch’s arms encasing him in a tight hold that makes him feel so, so safe.
They part slightly to breathe, and Jonas mumbles out another “I’m sorry”. Mitch shakes his head insistently.
“Don’t be, Joey. Ya got nothin’ to apologise for.”
Jonas buries his face into Mitch’s neck whilst he rests his chin on Jonas’ soft hair. They breathe each other in for a few more minutes, Mitch occasionally pressing kisses into Jonas’s curls.
“You feelin’ better?”
Jonas nods up at him, his voice barely a whisper, “Thank you.”
“Mm. You don’t gotta thank me, Spots.”
Jonas presses a kiss to the tip of Mitch’s nose in response. Mitch smiles at him, and Jonas smiles back.
Eventually, Jonas turns over to the other side, letting Mitch curl around his small form and press his face into the nape of Jonas’ neck. Jonas tangles their fingers together, his hands resting over Mitch’s as they wrap around Jonas’s mouldable belly. Soft, rosy pink lights diffuse into the air around the both of them, barely bright enough to illuminate the folds in the thick blanket covering their forms.
“I think you’ll have to leave pretty early in the morning, Mitchy.”
Mitch grunts. “Yeah, I know. I’ll be careful. You locked the door, didn’t ya?”
“Mhm.”
The soft sounds of their breathing and Mitch’s foot rubbing gently against Jonas’ under the blanket envelops them, the darkness no longer smothering but rather soothing to Jonas’ heavy eyes.
“I love you,” Jonas says, wrapping Mitch’s arms tighter around him.
“I love you too, baby.”