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Jon's teeth ached from clenching them to hold back the constant, frightened sounds of being sure that every breeze that ruffled his hair was Daisy about to catch him. There was no reason for her to look for him in Ipswich, but Jon didn't know why she'd bother with Bournemouth aside from what she would up doing there, kidnapping him. Clearly, the expectations he'd have of someone rational didn't carry through here. It didn't seem real that he was out here, free, no convenient stopped trains or gullible neighbors to help Daisy reel him back in.
It was terrifying. He was constantly afraid-- would Daisy show up, would someone try to steal what little Jon had, would someone realize he was underage and land him exactly where he didn't want to be? The security of feeling he'd successfully judged an area safe for the moment only lasted that long: a moment.
Sleep felt dangerous. It meant leaving himself vulnerable, when he could get out of sight somewhere where it was actually quiet enough for him to fall asleep at all. Staying awake felt like even more of an advantage when he caught sight of his reflection in a window and realized how much his dark circles aged him. Jon knew it wasn't sustainable, but he didn't know what else to do. Most things he figured out how to handle a little bit better every day. This, he couldn't pin down.
The lack of sleep and lying on hard ground made his bones ache.
He curled back into the tiny gap he'd found blocked off a bit by a stack of empty wood pallets every time he heard someone walk by. It was barely past noon, but his eyes felt dry and crusty, begging to be closed. Jon didn't want to sleep. He couldn't, it wasn't safe. But he had to, maybe daylight was better? Any bit of safety he could snatch was vital, and Jon's eyes got more difficult to open with every blink.
He missed his bed.