xx. sugar honey ice & tea

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tag: @jonas // wordcount: 596

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The screeching of his alarm clock had startled him out of sleep early, toppling him from out of his bed to the floor. Swaddled in his comforter, he groaned and blindly reached for the clock to silence it. It was becoming abundantly clear he wasn't going to like this schedule one bit. He pushed himself to his knees, finally at eye level with the offending machine. With a little more force than necessary, he turned it off and grumbled, using the end table as leverage to pull himself to his feet. Mornings were always rough for him, even back in high school. Begrudgingly, he began to go about his morning routine, brushing his teeth, showering, and pulling on some semblance of an outfit. One of the great things about wearing mostly black was that everything you wore matched perfectly. [break][break]
After struggling to tie his shoes for a minute, he'd finally made it out of his dorm. He'd gotten lucky, his roommate had never showed up evidently, so he never had to worry about being loud. Well, within reason. He was sure the other students could hear him let the door slam on his way out through the paper thin walls. If he noticed what he'd done however, he didn't seem to show it. Fitz was only capable of a singular purpose at that moment, and it was obtaining some form of caffeine, preferably coffee. As he shambled forward mindlessly, the spitting image of a zombie from the likes of Dawn of The Dead, he did what he could to keep the sun out of his eyes. Shuffling into the student union, he queued for the cafe, fishing his wallet out of his back pocket with a certain silent desperation.[break][break]
It was way too early in the morning for him to be out of bed, much less attempting to go to class. Arguably it was his own fault, considering he was the one who had picked the nine a.m. public speaking class, but there hadn't been any afternoon schedules for it and he needed it for his gen ed requirements. Fitz nursed the cup of coffee he'd stopped for, trying to let it work it's magic on him as he stepped into the campus tech hall. As he made his way down the hall, he scanned the room numbers blearily, finally stopping when he reached the room at the end of the hall with it's door already ajar. [break][break]
He was sort of surprised to see that he was the first one here, as he looked for a place to sit. Generally he was always either tardy or close to it. Fitz decided on a spot in the middle of the room as a few other students filed in slowly. He sat the closest to the wall, and lazily leaned his temple and shoulder against it. With any luck he would fall asleep the minute the professor began talking. His body didn't wait that long. Despite the caffeine intake, his eyes drooped, and he became the picture of serenity without meaning to. Distantly he could hear the other students chattering together as more took their seats, but he was drawn in by the siren song of sleep. [break][break]
Jolting out of his half-slumber, he wildly looked around for the source of the interruption. Realizing he'd been shunted unceremoniously by a kick to his chair, he turned irritably around for the source. Hazel eyes meeting bright blue as every ounce of anger melted away to fearful surprise, Fitz came face to face with his estranged other half.

[attr="class","boxo-notes"]please god let this work

KAY

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"I'm headed out, 'kay?" Jonas scooped up his keys from the bowl by the front door with one hand, awkwardly shimmying his coat on with the other. Erin looked up from where she stood in the kitchen, attention split between the email she was answering on her phone and the coffee drizzling from the Keurig - none to spare for Jonas whatsoever. It was fine. "Oh-," she said, shaking her head, "cool. Yeah." Jonas smiled reflexively at his girlfriend, unlatching the door to their apartment. "See you tonight?" Erin managed to process what he said this time. "Sorry, won't be home until late. This-" Jonas butted in, finishing the sentence for her, "-internship. Got it. Have a good day." Erin winced, closed the distance between them and kissed the air next to his cheek - she didn't want to smudge her lipstick. "You too," she said in her most earnest tones, giving him a significant, tender look. "Don't do anything too crazy." Jonas shook his head, snorting in vague amusement. "I'll be lucky if I don't die of boredom with the classes I have today." But Erin was looking back at her phone, lips half-forming sentences of some text or email she was reading as she distractedly walked back toward the kitchen. Jonas sighed and pushed through the door. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  Standing in line at the café of the student union, Jonas fiddled with the one air pod he had in, digging his phone out of his light jacket's pocket to skip the song just starting on his playlist. He needed strictly upbeat ones that morning for risk of going completely brain dead. Students were milling all round him, most a lot less happy to be awake that early than he was. But a particular splotch of color in Jonas's peripheral and the way that splotch moved struck him like a slap to the face. Jonas looked up, eyes wide, but the person in question was already lost around a corner. Jonas took a breath, stomach suddenly unsteady. How long had it been since he thought he'd seen him? Used to be every day. Then every week. Now Jonas couldn't remember the last time his brain imagined that a certain young man was nearby. Jonas tried to push aside the nausea clawing inside him. He noticed that he was up in line, opened his mouth, closed it, mumbled an apology and bailed. The thought of putting anything on his stomach made his throat tight with bile. He trudged mindless and numb toward his first class of the day. Jonas hoped that the music throbbing into one of his ears would distract him. Instead, it only reminded him of the man whose memory plagued and hounded him. With a little more irritation than should've been, Jonas stopped the music playing altogether and jammed his air pod back into the side pocket of his backpack. Jonas pulled his bag further up on his shoulder, mad at himself and his stomach and his emotions, trickling into his classroom alongside other students. Then, eyes sweeping the room to single out a potential seat, they fell on a young man passed out against the wall. He felt like he'd just fallen in a winter lake. Coherent thoughts, even emotions failed Jonas. He felt like he was in a dream - or a cruel nightmare - and it was like he was watching from a distance as his feet carried him through the maze of seats. Jonas came to stop by the sleeping person. He'd been split clean in half, hoping it was him, hoping it wasn't. But no. There was no denying it. Jonas couldn't have been mistaken, because he'd know Fitz by just hearing the way he breathed. Fitz. His best friend. Fitz, his dead best friend. There was no way his heart or soul could make sense of the situation, it was just so far beyond the realm of reality or quantifiable understanding. Jonas had fantasized - usually in a foul, unhealthy way to inflict self-harm - thousands of times in the last few years what he would do, what he would say, if he could just see Fitz for a second more in this life. None of those imagined approaches were what actually happened, though. Somewhere through the blank, endless static of complete shock that'd shattered him to his marrow, a blood-curdling rage consumed him like a terminal disease. Jonas's foot hit the chair Fitz was in without him choosing to. Fitz started, bleary, baggy eyes searching for who had woken him, lips curled in some threat or profanity. Their eyes met and Jonas's mind and heart started to slowly, ponderously regain forward momentum again. He just stared, dumbfounded, confused and blood shrieking through his veins laced with righteous, paradoxical fury. Fitz blurred with the tears welling up unbidden in Jonas's eyes. One spilled over, charting a path down his cheek.

. . . if I was born as a blackthorn tree, I'd wanna be felled by you, held by you, fuel the pyre of your enemies ... jonas @fitz

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[attr="class","lyr6"]of the

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Fitz began working through every instinct he had in that moment, every half formed sentence, and most of them ended with one thing: Run. For Jonas' sake and his own. The threat on his life didn't bother him, it was the living hell that John could put Jonas through if he ever knew Fitz had even come into contact with him. Hell, even the fact that Jonas knew he still existed now was a threat and internally the younger of the two of them gave himself a mental beating for even thinking it was a good idea to come back, to think that he could make it go back to how it had been those weeks it was just the two of them. For being so selfish, like usual, like Jonas had reiterated to him on several occasions in another life.[break][break]
One of those half formed instincts decided to take the lead and act, however, seeing the tears welling up in those eyes. With a nearly cat like agility, he snatched up his backpack and hopped between the desks, putting himself next to his dear best friend. A simple gesture, one he never though he'd be able to do again, he grabbed the other man's shoulder, dragging him best he could out of the class before they managed to make a bigger scene than Fitz was already making. He pulled with all his strength, half relying on Jonas to just come with him like what used to be usual for them. It brought the taller of the two of them stumbling out of his chair, bag in hand and behind him. [break][break]
Out in the hallway, now mostly vacated as classes began, he released his death grip on the fabric of Jonas' shoulder, holding his hand up to signify he needed silence. His brain hadn't quite caught up to his body, and he still didn't know what he was going to say, even after going through the conversation in his head so many times before in the wee hours of the morning alone in his room. He finally opened his mouth to speak, "Shit. I know what this looks like Parker, but I need you to slow your fucking roll before you jump to conclusions. I can explain." Fitz said, his raspy and borderline monotone voice coming out in a harsh whisper. He eyed the tears once more and had to stifle the urge to swipe them away. "I had to stay away from you, I...Fuck. It's a long story, a really long story." He added, eloquently as ever.

[attr="class","boxo-notes"]hooo boy, let him have it Jonas xDD

KAY

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Jonas may have been past complete disassociation with his body. But his mind still stalled and guttered like a candlewick struggling in a draft. It couldn't latch two discernible thoughts together, let alone more than that. Jonas was left in an unresponsive black hole of shock. His emotions had recovered a lot more quickly at seeing Fitz. The anger licked the inside of his skin. He wouldn't have been surprised if he was smoking, about to combust. Fitz hurtled to his feet and suddenly had one hand digging into Jonas's shoulder. One large part of the young man wanted to punch him, instinctively and with everything he had. Flashes of so many times before that Fitz had snatched Jonas's shoulder buffeted him like a strobe, though. Between that painful flip book of memories and the fact that the physical contact meant Fitz was there, not a cruel figment of his imagination, kept Jonas's curled fists from lashing out. If only just. Before Jonas could so much as remember how to breathe, they were in the deserted hallway outside of the classroom. Fitz all but shivered with anxiety and nerves. Then he was talking and the sound of his voice milked another tear out of Jonas without him so much as blinking to send them out. He was scared to blink, actually. That'd let the floodgates down. Fitz's voice tore Jonas's heart into throbbing, primal soul dust. The content of the words had a different reaction. "'Jump to conclusions'?!" Jonas echoed, another tear falling, face contorting, the muscles there seized in the vice of his emotions and twisting in ways he couldn't repeat by choice if he tried. "You were de-" Jonas's raised voice snuffed out, smothered by the word he'd been about to say. A truth he'd taken years of heartache and crippling grief to confront and accept. Jonas continued in a quiet voice, still choked with emotion, sounding like he had a cold because of the way his nose was starting to clog and run. "You were dead, Fitz. F**king dead!" Jonas's gathering momentum wavered again. Saying it out loud sucked all the air and energy from him. His pained expression slackened. His legs faltered beneath him and Jonas stumbled backward until he firmly connected with the hallway's wall. His feet slid forward, his back down, until he was sitting in a despondent heap on the floor, knees bent. Jonas rested his skull against the painted brick behind him. He couldn't stop looking at Fitz, but he didn't want to. Jonas thought he might throw up. "It sure as hell better be a good f**king story." And Jonas's maelstrom of emotions took another unexpected turn. A sob shuddered out of him he only barely managed to stifle. Now he finally looked away from Fitz, pulling his arms up and pressing the sleeves of the inside of his wrists to his eyes to let the fabric soak in the tears there. Jonas's lips peeled back from his teeth in an ugly grimace. He gasped, once, through his open mouth. The anger found him again. Jonas lowered his wrists and glared up, eyes red and swelling, lower lip quivering, channeling in that glare all the hurt he was feeling. "Well?!" he demanded, volume jumping again.

. . . if I was born as a blackthorn tree, I'd wanna be felled by you, held by you, fuel the pyre of your enemies ... jonas @fitz

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At his actual funeral, whenever that came to pass, he was sure it would be said that he had a hell of a lot of nerve. He bristled at the volume change, eyes narrowing at Jonas with a silent fury. He gritted his teeth to keep some harsh comments back, knowing it wouldn't help his situation, knowing Jonas had a right to be angry with him. Hell, all of this was a valid response to finding out your best friend was alive after years of thinking they were dead. It didn't stop Fitz from taking it personally though, especially coming from Jonas of all people. [break][break]
Simultaneously, he felt the urge to both kiss Jonas and wrestle him into a headlock until he said "uncle". Which, if he thought about it, was pretty par for the course of how Jonas usually made him feel. He felt a stabbing guilt simultaneously, twisting and tearing his heart to a million pieces watching the love of his life sink to the ground in tears, crumbling apart because of him. That haunted him more than anything, knowing that all this pain was because of him. He struggled for words again, knowing what he needed to say but stalling out whenever he actually tried to put them into a coherent sentence. Part of him was just so happy to even see Jonas again, it was causing all kinds of turmoil within him.[break][break]
He squatted down to be eye level with the other man, trying to meet him in the middle. "I...They thought I was dead. Everyone did. The hospital didn't think I was gonna make it, but when I finally pulled through your dad was the first one to visit me." He started, remembering the moment like it was yesterday. That scum bag, sitting in the chair next to his hospital bed with a bouquet of flowers and a card that said "get well soon!". "He said he'd drop the charges and sweep everything under the rug if I stayed away from you. I was seventeen Jonas. I was a kid! Of course I said yes, you know how he is." An angry tear streaked down his cheek and he wiped it away furiously. Turning, he slumped next to Jonas, back against the wall. Their knees brushed and he struggled not to get distracted by it. "I didn't get back to Astaria until just recently, and everyone I talked to said you'd moved on with your life. You had a girlfriend, you were in college, you were...happy. I didn't want to fuck that up for you. You know how good I am at fucking up." He said, adding a little laugh at the end like it was an in joke between them. Exhaustion weighed him down and he hung his head shamefully. "I'm sorry. You have a right to be mad. I'm an asshole, like you said."

[attr="class","boxo-notes"];A;

KAY

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Despite everything - all the paradoxes and mysteries and deceits and complications - hanging in the air between them, when Jonas looked at Fitz's face and saw it pulled in five different directions by five different emotions? He'd seen it waking, sleeping, in dreams, in nightmares, in memories, in despair for years now. He'd accepted that he wouldn't get to see Fitz's face until the next life but here it was. Just as he remembered. Fitz crouched down, features finally resting in a chosen attitude. Jonas looked into his eyes now and fresh tears stung in his. Fitz started to speak and Jonas's fierce glare lasted for all of two sentences. "... your dad was the first one to visit me." The words shifted through Jonas's heart like an avalanche of razors shaped, welded, honed and tempered in a life's worth of abuse. He managed, somehow, maybe as a coping mechanism to keep from unravelling into the void, latched onto Fitz's words and turned them over in his head. But his eyes were glazed and unseeing. His whole being felt numb. And not for a moment - not for a moment - did Jonas doubt his father's capability in doing exactly what Fitz said he had. His father - his father. Of course he did. Of course he did. Jonas's glacial wasteland of comprehensive loathing began to melt, sizzling into a molten magma. It mounted in the background, starting in his bones and seeping outward. Tears pricked his eyes for an entirely new reason. And Jonas held onto Fitz's words like a lifeline to avoid blacking out in his rage. "I didn't," Jonas heard himself say from far, far off. Fitz was sitting by him. Their knees brushed, and at that point of contact Jonas's anger was soothed. But it wasn't enough to bite back the tide. "I didn't move on with my life. I tried. I thought I had but just seeing you-" Jonas glanced at him sidelong. "I was kidding myself." The admission was like a battering ram that punched through that gurgling volcano of hatred in him, hurling it into full eruption. There was a chain reaction in him that seized his brain like a pincer. Memories hit him, slowly at first, then in a hailstorm of dots connecting themselves quicker than he could comprehend. All the words, all the lies, all the manipulations that Jonas's father had spun since the day he'd told his son that Fitz was dead. How John Parker had comforted him there in the beginning, soothed him, used the tragedy and Jonas's unfeeling grief to pose and prod him like a doll or a pawn on a chessboard. His hatred for his father had by now become a third helix to his DNA. Even the lengths of the treachery and depravity that this grand lie painted wasn't quite enough by itself to push Jonas over the edge. It was when he instinctively thought of all the ways his father's blackmail must've twisted Fitz; cut into Fitz; dangled Fitz from strings. It was those thoughts that made Jonas's world start to spin. "Oh sh*t," he gasped. Jonas clambered clumsily to his feet and started sprinting down the hallway. Fitz found him in the nearest bathroom, bowed over a toilet as he finished dry heaving into it. Jonas shuddered with the chills and weakness that came after vomiting, his face beaded with fast-cooling sweat. Jonas embarrassedly flushed and didn't have the energy to stand back up. He slumped to the floor, back against the floor-touching stall's wall, no doubt looking like death itself. "I'm sorry," and his voice was thick with emotion and the remnants of his getting sick. "I hate him. I hate him so much and I'm sorry." Jonas pulled his knees against his chest and burrowed his head there in a fetal position.

. . . if I was born as a blackthorn tree, I'd wanna be felled by you, held by you, fuel the pyre of your enemies ... jonas @fitz

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All the while he was talking he'd expected at any moment to be wrestled to the ground in a fist fight, like they were back in high school again. The punches never came, and if anything, it seemed that for once in his life telling the truth and being honest from the get go did wonders for him in repairing their relationship, if at least just a little. A part of Fitz's soul was soothed at that, and he felt some of the tension from the situation release it's hold on him. Only now it'd moved to Jonas and was tormenting him, and that wasn't any good either.[break][break]
"I didn't move on with my life. I tried. I thought I had but just seeing you-"[break][break]
Something in Fitz's heart jumped at that, in a desperately hopeful way. It was quickly tamped down by the rational side of him, who reiterated for what felt like the thousandth time that Jonas was probably straight and had been since High School, dating girls the entirety of the time he'd known him. Just like that, the hope that fluttered was quashed and replaced with the usual cold, numb feeling. He chewed his lip unconsciously, listening for any other bits of Jonas' familiar voice. Good lord it was so good to see him. Now that the initial fear and loathing had withered away he was blindsided by the nostalgic and altogether touchy feely bullshit that Jonas somehow made him capable of feeling. He longed to bite all that back as well, but was distracted by a curse, and the source of his affections scrambling to his feet. [break][break]
Like a lost puppy, Fitz followed after, eventually finding Jonas hurling into a toilet in the men's room. A well trained reaction, he held the wavy brown hair out of his best friend's face until he'd finished. As soon as he'd finished, Fitz went to retrieve a paper towel, soaking it with water and wringing it out just a bit before returning to the other man, who looked like death warmed over. Fitz would know. Crouching once more, he nodded his head affirmatively, cooing in a softer, raspy tone. "I know. I know. Don't apologize, what have I told you about that shit. You don't owe me anything." He gently took ahold of Jonas' face, raising it up to look at him so he could wipe away any remains of sick and sweat with the cool paper towel. Once he'd finished he tossed the balled up wad in the general direction of the trash can, missing by a long shot but not really caring. Fishing a pack of mint gum out of his pocket, he handed Jonas a piece, taking one for himself as well. "Here, this should settle your stomach and get the taste out."

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KAY

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Fingers - long and smooth and somehow always damn freezing - found his chin and pulled it out of his burrow. Jonas didn't know how it could be possible, but he thought he'd know that touch in a coma. Fitz wiped his face clean while he spoke. Jonas opened his mouth, instinctively wanting to argue, to insist that he did owe Fitz - owed him so much. But he didn't. Partly because Jonas didn't have the energy to argue, partly because he knew it was useless. Fitz was using that voice. Jonas accepted the piece of gum, unwrapped it and popped it in his mouth automatically. He gave it a few chews, looking at the metallic paper wrapper and smiled in a rueful way. "God," he sighed at himself. "Back from the grave, haven't seen you in years and what're you doing in the first five minutes? Taking care of me." Any semblance of self-loathing or guilt at that fact (what right did Jonas have to be the one coming apart in this situation? Fitz had at least the same level of entitlement, if not more) was overwhelmed by a soft emotion taking root in his stomach. The anger and disbelief and other cocktail of volatile emotions were still there, just steady enough for others to fight their way through. Jonas struggled onto his feet, shook his head and clapped both hands on Fitz's shoulders. "Some things-" he said, letting the common saying trail off. He pulled Fitz into a crushing, desperate and rough embrace. Jonas rocked him slightly back and forth. He didn't care Fitz's opinion on the contact. Jonas's voice sounded smothered again, mumbling, "They told me you were..." And he remembered the name of that soft feeling welling up inside him: joy.

. . . if I was born as a blackthorn tree, I'd wanna be felled by you, held by you, fuel the pyre of your enemies ... jonas @fitz

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A short laugh escaped him, and he smirked. He fiddled with his own gum wrapper, shoving the pack carelessly back into his pocket as he popped the piece in his mouth. His eyes found Jonas' as he spoke, glimmering with amusement, "Well yeah. What the hell else is new, Parker." He snorted, jaw working as he chewed. "I think whenever I actually do shuffle off the mortal coil, it'd be hell wherever I was if I wasn't babysitting your ass." There wasn't any harshness to his words. It was a familiar banter that felt as natural falling back into as riding a bike. The meaning showed through though, and what he meant was I missed you too, jackass.[break][break]
In an instant, Jonas was back on his feet and pulling Fitz into a bear hug that threatened to squeeze the air from his lungs. Hesitantly at first, he returned the embrace best as he could. He didn't have the kind of strength Jonas managed, but he was there in flesh and bony form, and that seemed enough. As much as he wasn't the touchy-feely sort, he didn't struggle out of the grip. The hope was there, threatening him at knife point in a dark alley, but he managed to fight it back down once more. He was nothing if not consistent. At the mumbled words, he hummed in acknowledgement, hand reaching up to ruffle Jonas' hair playfully, convincing himself it wasn't just to savor the feeling of the whole moment. "Dead. I figured. What's that quote by Mark Twain? Ah fuck that'd be perfect right now wouldn't it." He joked, squeezing once before carefully backing out of the embrace, more for himself and his heart than anything, selfish self preservation instincts kicking in.

"Let's get out of here. As painfully on brand as it is for us to have our reunion in a men's room, I really need a drink, and I'm pretty sure I forgot my coffee in class. I'll tell you what happened. What really happened." [break][break]

It was like picking up where they'd left off, almost surreal the way they fell into their old ways. Fitz dragging Jonas around behind him by the wrist as he tore through buildings and walkways like a natural disaster. They ended in a secluded patio that stretched out the side of the student union, with Fitz retrieving two sodas from the vending machine and sitting on top of the picnic table rather than at it. He opened one of the colas, setting it in front of Jonas, as he fished a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket. Technically Astaria College was a no smoking campus, but he showed no concern with that as he lit the end of the cancer stick and took a long drag, blowing the smoke behind him and out of Jonas' face. "They were 95% certain I wouldn't make it. Head on collision, most people die on impact, all that. I know your dad didn't look too happy to see me when I woke up." He laughed at that, taking another long drag and blowing the smoke away. Looking to Jonas once more, he pulled some of the dark hair out of his face, revealing an almost star-shaped scar at the edge of his forehead, nearly breaking into the hair line. "I pulled through though, guess I'm one tough son of a bitch to kill. We already knew that, though." He let the conversation fall off naturally, finishing his cigarette and flicking it away. [break][break]
A few moments passed, and he sipped loudly at his soda, almost obnoxiously. After a moment he set the can back down and shimmied to the side more, to face Jonas more directly. "Enough about me though. How have you been? Breaking hearts with that pretty boy face of yours?" Fitz smirked, his teeth peeking through his lips as he did. A moment passed and his expression became more severe, realizing that as well as he knew Jonas, he was probably stewing inside about his dad. Setting the sodas out of the way, he moved closer, planting his hands on Jonas' shoulders as he forced their eyes to meet. "Whatever you do Parker, you can't let your dad know you know I'm alive. He'll make my life hell, but more importantly, he'll make your life hell and I'll be responsible for that. You have to promise me."

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Something as trivial and slight as ruffling his hair made Jonas feel at home in a way no one before, or after Fitz could. His eyes smarted again at how the world felt suddenly right after four years walking through a grey, lifeless imitation. Before any of Jonas's rampant emotions could sink their teeth into him again, Fitz took him by the wrist and lead him out of the men's room. Jonas was disconcerted at first. His face was still gently swelling, discolored and altogether ghastly from his sobbing and vomiting. But, halfway down the first hall after leaving the restroom, Jonas's thoughts caught up with him. His being focused on the cold, iron grip of Fitz's hand around his wrist. Jonas smiled dazedly, stumbling along after his best friend. By the time they'd settled in an empty patio Jonas had regained control over himself enough to not feel like a disaster. He smiled in reflexive thanks at the soda can given to him, sat down on the bench, his shoulder brushing Fitz's knee. He held the can between his hands but couldn't touch it. The hardly-chewed gum in his mouth he collected and stuck in a gob on the side of the can. Fitz started to talk, then. Jonas couldn't have survived another moment in the dark, but he equally wasn't sure if he'd survive what Fitz was going to say. Jonas pitched toward that latter opinion when he saw the scar his best friend revealed rooted in his hair line. He inhaled, sharp but soundless, upon seeing it. He wanted to touch and test the tangled knot of tissues there - as some kind of self-harming penance, and as if he could gently smooth them away. "I pulled through though-" Fitz's confession came to. Without warning a pang of selfish, petty, petulant pain scorched through Jonas, immediately countered by guilt and self-hate for having it in the first place. This was all John Parker's fault. All of it. His father was evil, that much Jonas had known most of his life. Something this despicable seemed very like him, unfortunately. But Jonas couldn't keep himself from feeling hurt - betrayed - by Fitz for a microsecond. Surely Fitz would've known what letting Jonas believe that lie would do to him? That it'd unravel him - it had, it'd shattered his world and, only now, looking at Fitz, did Jonas know he hadn't pieced it back together since. He'd just pretended. Fitz didn't have a choice. He couldn't have gone against John's blackmail and threats... But... Fitz snapped the clasps of their serious, intense conversation together like shutting a suitcase. Off he shoved them to more mundane avenues. And when he asked nonchalantly and with that sh*t-eating grin what Jonas had been up to, what hearts he'd been breaking, another Chinese puzzle box of emotions thudded like a rock in his chest. Erin flicked in front of his mind's eye and Jonas winced without choosing to. He realized he didn't want to think about her. Not here with Fitz. Just forming her name in his mouth gave him a bitter, guilt-ridden, disappointed taste, and the prospect of seeing her at their apartment later that night filled Jonas with an inexplicable urge to go anywhere but. He opened his lips, not quite sure what he was going to say. No, that's not true. He knew he was going to lie. To try to shrug off Fitz's question without answering it and change the topic of conversation. But Fitz, swiping aside their sodas and grabbing his shoulders, saved Jonas from one peril by pushing him into another. Jonas's former look of pain transformed into a new kind of hurt. Anger, even. "No, Fitz, you won't be responsible for that. Just like you weren't responsible for the last four years, playing dead. I'll be. I was. I am. It's my dad that's the f**king devil and stole you from m-" Jonas caught himself, his words tumbling out in a gnarled mess quicker than he could screen them. He paused, took a shuddering breath, closed his eyes, shook his head in frustration at himself and smiled bitterly. There he was, going off and making it about him again. "You're my best friend, Fitz. No one's ever known me like you do. These past few years have been so f**king lonely," Jonas realized how sensitive and vulnerable his words were turning. Knew that Fitz wouldn't be comfortable, their conversation getting that close to Jonas's heart. So he added, trying to push them away from that territory, "For me at least." Jonas looked away from Fitz. He bit his bottom lip to keep it from quivering, gnawing on it to sculpt his thoughts into more words. "I can't lose you again, asshole." Those worked well enough.

. . . if I was born as a blackthorn tree, I'd wanna be felled by you, held by you, fuel the pyre of your enemies ... jonas @fitz

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