Chapter Text
Brian closed the cupboard a little rougher than necessary. There were no hidden plates.
He hadn’t had much hope to find them there, to be honest. The cupboard was one of the higher ones, and Jonny couldn’t reach it unless he climbed on the counter, which he knew he wouldn’t do out of pride.
Brian had got him a small step, once, one of those that you could fold and keep wherever you wanted, without it being an annoyance. Jonny had thrown it out of the window (thankfully not hitting anybody, as Brian made sure to check), and refused to talk to him for the rest of the week, no matter how many reasonable arguments he gave him (please, Jonny, we can’t just keep stacking everything in the lowers shelf, we need the space).
Eventually they had reached a middle point. Any stuff Jonny might need was left on the lower furniture, all sense of order be damned. And if he ever needed something, he just angrily stared at the cupboard, until Brian left the room and he could do what was necessary (aka climbing whatever was in the way to get to it, doing his best not to fall).
Still, Brian could hope.
He had already looked everywhere, taking advantage of his roommate locking himself in his room, but hadn’t found anything. He had even inspected the freezer, and the bad shelf on the freezer that they should definitely clean but were too intimidated by its nastiness to even start. Neither did he found evidence on the space under the oven (well, evidence of Jonny’s crime. There were other things there that he forced himself to forget).
Normally, he would forget about all this. He had inspected the whole kitchen without result, after all. But. Last time he had made the dishes he discretely counted how many plates, knives, forks and glasses they owned.
Today, when Jonny finished “washing" the cutlery and gone to his room, Brian took stock of what they had. They were three dishes, two knives and five forks down from the day before.
And he had no idea of where they were.
It’s not like he could confront him with just that. Jonny would tell him that he must have miscounted, or that he was crazy. Those were the reactions he got when he told Tim and Ivy. Marius and TS had offered to lend him some of their plates if he needed them that much. Ashes and Nastya told him to tie Jonny up and torture him for answers, though only Ashes seemed serious about it.
Raphaela told him to get evidence, and that’s the advice he took.
He sat on the floor, looking at the small kitchen. It seemed to be laughing at him and his quest. He gave it the finger, because he was too tired to think of how dumb it looked.
There was a clock on the wall opposite him, indicating five past four.
That was weird, he didn’t recall spending so much time in here, had it stopped again? No, a glance at his phone told him. He had really spend two hours and a half looking for Jonny's hiding place.
Talking about Jonny, where was he? He would normally be up already at this time, annoying Brian and just being loud in general. Not only remaining hidden, but also in quiet was very out of character.
A worry came over him. What was he doing?
He got up, deciding to go to his bedroom and find out what had him so busy. He gave the god he sometimes believed in a quick pray for the house to survive it.
When Brian got to his room, he noticed the door was half opened. He peaked inside, not seeing much because the lights were off. Jonny had to be there, he couldn’t have gone out without him noticing, with the door next to the kitchen. Unless of course he had decided to go through the window. Again. But Brian doubted that was the case, it’s not as if they had been fighting for him wanting to avoid Brian that much.
Then he noticed a faint light from where the bed normally was. Jonny’s cell phone. And Jonny holding it, unless it had recently acquired the ability to hover.
“Jonny?” he dared to step in, letting the corridor’s light into the room.
It seemed that Brian had been right, and the old phone was still bound to the laws of gravity, as there was indeed an arm holding it, presumably Jonny’s. He could only presume that it was his, because the owner was covered in at least two bedspread, and one old grey blanket that Brian would have sworn he got rid of the last time they had a spring cleaning, but apparently Jonny had managed to sneak back into the flat.
There was a small hole in the shelter, (barely) big enough for Jonny’s face, who looked absolutely miserable. Or rather, gave the impression that anyone who approached him would become miserable. He had his jaw clenched, and was looking at the screen with an expression of pure hatred that left no option but to assume that it had wronged him in some personal level, just by existing.
Over all, not an exciting view for someone who wanted to engage with him.
Jonny groaned at him in acknowledge of his presence
“Should I call Marius?” Brian asked, sitting on the side of the bed next to him.
It wouldn’t be something unusual, for him to call his friend for things like this. The wanna-be-medic had expected when he decided to study medicine that friends and family (and people who he hadn’t seen in years but somehow believed that the fact that they still had his phone number was proof and only requirement of the minimum level of closeness needed for contacting him) call him for advice, and that hadn’t sound that bad. He liked being useful. But Marius had hoped that they would at least wait until he had passed his first year before calling about a possibly-failing-pacemaker.
On that particular occasion, he had yelled quite aggressively to Brian to get a real doctor for fucks sake. He was still learning how the ear worked, an advanced heart-machine was way out of his league.
Marius had heard Jonny from the background screaming that he was fine, and Brian threatening with torture if he didn’t give him his doctor’s number.
It turned out that it hadn’t been as much of a life or death situation, but more of a “Jonny not following with the restrictions his doctors had given him and was now facing the consequence situation”. That had been the first time Marius had stayed on their flat to keep an eye on his “patient”, as well the first time he called himself a doctor (he thought he deserved the title, after almost dying of worry).
The point was, were Brian to call Marius right now, not knowing exactly what was wrong with Jonny… it wouldn’t be the first time, and definitely not the last.
That was why Brian was already looking for his contact, even after hearing Jonny’s no.
“I’m not dying yet” Jonny groaned. “I’m just expelling an organ from my genitalia, you don’t need to call Marius for that”
Brian sighed. It… wasn’t the best situation, true. A Jonny on his period was twice as likely to engage on violence as a normal Jonny, if such thing was possible. But at least the idiot wasn’t dying.
Jonny was looking at him with eyes full of hate. He would have taken offense for that, except that he knew by now that it wasn’t anything personal. That was just Jonny for you.
Still, he took pity on him.
“Did you take anything for the pain yet?” he asked, putting a hand on his head to try and see if he had a fever.
“No", Jonny snarled at him.
He didn’t have a fever, but surely a headache, by the way he hadn’t even tried to bit his hand off when he took his temperature.
Brian got up. “I'm getting you painkillers, do you want anything else?” he offered.
“No", he said, in the same tone than before.
Right. Better to get on it.
He went to the kitchen, and got a glass of water. Remembering that they also had one of those hot water bottles, he put the kettle on, making a mental note to turn it off before it started to boil.
Logically, the bottle should be on the bathroom, in the cabinet with the towels, or maybe with the meds. If it wasn’t there, he would have to ask Jonny. He really hoped it was there, not wanting to get snarled at again.
The painkillers were easy to find. Given Jonny’s… lifestyle choices, they were careful to be always stocked, with them being in an accessible shelf behind the mirror, clearly labelled inside a plastic box.
He had taken a pair of Jonny’s, as his were hidden on his room (just in case!), with the main difference between them being that the first wouldn’t make his heart explode.
But the water bottle, the thing he had really hoped to find, was nowhere to be seen. He looked in the towels cabinet, and in the one that they shoved everything else that belonged to the bathroom but was not a towel or meds. He found a rubber duck (Brian’s), a hair dryer (Jonny’s), and a military hat (the Toy Soldier’s?), but no bottle.
He takes a moment to accept his faith, and goes back to the bedroom. Before, he makes a stop on the kitchen to get a glass of water to give Jonny with the painkillers, because he didn’t want to enter the place without some kind of offering.
“Jonny?” he said, with a glass of water and pills on hand.
Brian noticed that Jonny had left his phone to the side, and was now plain, by the book, sulking on bed. Staring up to the ceiling with a zombie expression, he looked like he had decided to go on his mind trough every single person that had wronged him before taking his last breath.
He was glad he brought the med.
Jonny turned to him, and he sees the glass of water on his hand. Brian follows his gaze, and shows him the pills, too, and is rewarded by being promoted from his hate focus to a tolerable annoyance. He extend his hands towards him, asking for the drugs and its sweet, sweet release.
“Where’s that hot water bottle?” Brian asked while he drank the water.
Jonny all but growled at him. “It's mine"
He was quick to placate the beast. “I know, I know, it's not for me. I thought that it might help, I just started to warm the water”.
He just eyed at Brian suspiciously, trying to see if he was lying to steal his precious bottle. “Wardrobe, third drawer", he told him, when he didn’t find anything.
Brian tries very hard to ignore the knives that are thrown to his back.
Had Jonny really thought that he would try to steal the bottle? (Still thinks, probably, by the way he was observing his every move). What on earth would he want it for?
He had said it was on the third drawer, but the thing was a mess. He should have guessed that the man’s lack of order would translate to every aspect of his life, but his wardrobe. He already had the drawers, why couldn’t he use them right? There were socks in there, as well as a green highlighter, a torch, a knife, chewed gum that he decided not to think much about, another knife…
Finally, he found it. It was on the bottom of the thing, under a fifth knife.
Maybe Jonny wasn’t hiding the knives they used for eating to make Brian wash them. Maybe he had stolen and saved them in another drawer, as a different collection of knives than the one he had seen in there.
Bottle in hand, he makes his way to the kitchen and the kettle full of now hot water. He turned off the fire, and started to clean the so searched object (it had been on Jonny’s drawer, with chewing gum and socks and knives of dubious precedence).
Midway through the action, he started to wonder if perhaps the water was too hot. He had left it for a good while on the fire, after all. Not enough for it to boil, apparently, but still. Maybe he should take a rag? So Jonny could wrap the bottle if he wanted. Yes, he should definitely take one.
When he goes back to the room, he finds Jonny in the same miserable position than before, but with his eyes closed. Brian was about to leave (it was a good thing that he was sleeping, he didn’t want to wake him up) when he opened them, analysing his figure, probably in search of the bottle. He resisted the urge to apologise for waking him up, only because he knew that he would only tell him that he had in no way been sleeping, just resting his eyes, bloody hell what are you? The sleep police?
Brian gave him the water bottle. “I’ve got a rag, if it’s too hot" he mentioned.
The person who had definitely not been nodding off moved to lay on his back, and extended one arm to grab the bottle, ignoring Brian’s offer of a rag, and put it over his stomach, under the covers.
Jonny sighed. For all the troubles it had caused, the thing did feel nice. He could feel the muscles on his stomach relax a bit, and, who could have guessed, not being all tense over a bleeding part of his body actually helped with the discomfort. He closed his eyes for a moment, relishing on the feeling.
He does look better, Brian decided. His job was over (Jonny probably couldn’t wait until he left him alone right now).
However, when he turned around to leave, he heard a small ‘wait'. He looked back at Jonny.
“Can you get me my computer?” he asked. Jonny d'Ville. In an almost kind tone. Hell must be freezing, Brian thought.
“Sure.”
The laptop was probably the only easy thing in the room to find, apart from the bed, if only because it was next to it, as its owner was in a habit of using it on over the sheets before sleeping (even after being told that it was bad for the computer and the bedsheet, with the risk of it being burned. This were obviously lies, and should not be listened to, even if the fans on the machine do seem to be running a little faster than normal). Brian gave the thing to Jonny, and searched for the charger. He would probably use it for a while, after all.
He was definitely not looking for a reason to stay.
Unfortunately He was quick to find it, still being plugged into the socket. He handed the other end to him, watching him put it on the computer.
“Do you need anything else?” Brian asked him, because he was that good of a roommate.
Jonny fidgeted a little with the cursor, moving it in circles as Netflix loaded. “I’m going to watch Nailed It,” he actually managed not to grumble at him.
The drumbot smiled, recognizing an invitation when shoved at him.
“Care if I join you?” he said, though he really, really hated the program.
“Do whatever you want", Jonny answered, but moving to the right to make space for him.
He didn’t need to be told twice. Climbing on to the bed, he got under the covers, not bothering with any extra pillows. It’s not as if he would be watching that stupid ridiculous show anyway.
When Brian settles in, gaze on the screen, waiting for a show he is not going to watch, no matter how bored he gets, he feel something. Jonny’s left leg had settled next to his, touching only barely that it could be passed as just an accident, if he thought too much into it. He looked up to his roommate, who was a little red on the face, and had apparently found his new passion in watching the percentage bar move as the video loaded.
He smiled and cuddled next to him, lying on his side now with his head over Jonny’s shoulder, still watching the computer. Brian felt him tense a bit, for a moment almost long enough for him to retreat, but eventually he relaxed, and moved his legs to be partially over his, leaning slightly to his left.
Jonny d'Ville did definitely not, on any moments, not even in your wildest dreams, rest his cheek on top of Brian’s head, or whisper a small thank you as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of the soft curls on his face.
Anyone who said something like that would be a liar, and should not be believed on anything ever on their life. Period.
At some point during the afternoon Brian had fallen asleep, probably out of boredom, even when he had Jonny’s magnificent comments to keep him entertained. It was fun to see people overestimate their ability to recreate masterpieces cakes, but after a while it gets just… sad.
He wakes up to the sound of a bag of chips being opened next to his head.
“Where did you get those?” he ask, sleep still on his voice. He was still half over Jonny, and would have woken up if he had gotten up to get food. He hoped.
“Not sharing,” was his answer, intoned with a surprising lack of aggression. At least he seemed to be on a better mood than before.
Brian looked up. Jonny had the bag over his stomach, and was trying to shove a considerable amount of the snack into his mouth. After a moment of just staring, he found what was wrong with the picture.
“Where did you get those?” he questioned. “I didn’t get any last time I went for groceries”. That had been a few weeks ago, and neither of them had gotten out, except on emergencies.
Had Jonny faked one just to get a bag of chips?
“Found them in a box under the bed”
He sat up and yes, on the floor, next to the bed, was an old shoe box, containing more snacks, candy, and was that a pack of cigarettes? There was, of course, another, smaller, knife inside. Brian had a rat of a roommate.
“Are they green?” he asked referring to the chips that were, in fact, of a worrisome shade of green.
“They do come from a vegetable, you know.” Jonny shoved another into his mouth.
“Barely,” Brian replied. “I’m not sure you should be eating those.”
“Well, I’m sure I didn’t ask for your opinion”
“I can’t believe you.” He shoved his head into his hands, grasping at the lack of common sense of the person next to him. After admitting to himself that it must be his fault for having hope in the first place, he searched for his phone between the sheets, and looked at the time. It was getting late, might as well get up and do something. “I’m making dinner,” he told Jonny before leaving. “Let me know when you start dying of food poisoning.”
If Jonny remembered that it was his turn on cocking, he didn’t say anything.