Chapter Text
He looked at the man in front of him. Tufts of faded red hair fluffing out from under a navy blue beanie. A leather jacket, slightly too big for the boy’s stature, hanging down on his frame. A red and white striped scarf tied loosely around his neck. Small hands clasping around a small, white cup, lightly pressed against cold, purpling thin lips– the warm coffee inside the styrofoam doing a little more to heat up the boy than the scarf is managing to do in this cold weather.
Jonny sighs at the sight. He observes around the bland street, cold trees and frozen grass. Laying before him is another attempt to cheer his sullen friend up.
Thom, who stands there a little more bitterly now, annoyed that his coffee is getting cold, has been worrying Jonny as of late… Well, worrying everyone lately, truly. Thom’s never really been super happy-go-lucky, as long as Jonny has known him– I mean, what optimistic person writes Street Spirit? Jonny shakes his head to himself. After the tour for The Bends ended, Jonny felt like the man standing to his right on stage was a completely different person from when they started in small, sweaty pubs, jumping with sparkling ambition in their eyes. Now, the shorter man before Jonny had no ambition in his eyes, quite literally nothing showed in his eyes at all. Jonny thought he could spend his whole life trying to make Thom happy, and for almost a whole decade now, he has. In a room full of 200 people who could claim to love the red-haired man, Jonny knew he’d be the last one standing if everything went to hell. And according to Thom, it has. Over time, Jonny has noticed how increasingly paranoid the other man has become. Thinking everything is all too much. Society is fucked, their jobs are fucked, no one fucking likes him, everything is fucking fake; if Johnny was asked to sum up everything Thom says to him on a daily basis, he’d say: ‘Everything and everyone is fucked.’
Thom has tried to isolate himself a lot lately because of it. Many after-shows Jonny played a not-so-very-fun game of ‘Have you seen Thom?’ to only find him usually huddled in a corner, hugging his knees with a drink at his feet, and maybe a couple few empty glasses strewn around him too if Jonny played the game too slowly that night.
Soon, Jonny thought, Soon we will be in the studio and I can get him to take his feelings out in song, and maybe it’ll save him. But for now, Jonny was left to purely his own devices, as Thom shut out literally everyone else in his life, except the younger boy– Though it’s not like he was given a choice to kick Jonny away anyhow, Jonny would never let him.
A soft voice snaps Jonny out of his trailing thoughts, “Do you love me?”
“You know I do, Thom.” Jonny smiles, a little weakly, too weakly for the insecure shell of a Thom.
“I know you don’t.”
“Thommy, really-” He sighs
The shorter man’s eyes bore behind the taller man, into the coffee shop window, “small shops like this might be one of the last things on this Earth that resemble realness. The baristas knowing the regulars’ names, their orders, their lives. It’s like a pit-stop of warmth in the cold succession tramline of meaningless greed and emptiness. I miss being able to even feel the connection of it, now I feel like I just watch as others get to say ‘Hey I know you, like really know you,’ while I go unknown because I’m too known.” He breathes out in some, very long, drawn out sentence Jonny can only grasp half of.
“Uhm, Thom?” Jonny tilts his head to the side, into the middle of Thom’s eyesight, waving his hand to break the boy out of spiraling trance. “I’m sorry if this is upsetting you.”
“You just wanted to make me happy, I know Jonathan.” he randomly snaps out of seemingly nowhere. He pushes his cold drink into the taller man’s chest, forcing the latter to take it before starting to storm off. For a second, when the boy’s cold knuckles pressed into Jonny’s jacket-covered chest, he felt a tiny break right where the light contact landed. He brushed it off, knowing right now that the red-haired boy’s words shouldn’t hurt him, because he doesn’t deserve to feel hurt. Thom is hurting, that’s what matters, he throws the half-filled cup into a nearby wastebin, starting to chase after the (for being shorter than Jonny) very fast receding singer, maybe we can just spend time at home to make him feel better.
The taller boy almost catches up to the other, his thin pink fingers reaching out to grasp onto his friend’s shoulder, “I’m sorry, I know it’s rather cold out here, not pleasant, we can go home!”
“Piss off Jon.” Thom shakes the cold hand off his shoulder. Jonny lessens his place, letting the gap fill a bit between the pair, his desperate smile turning into a frown as he watches the other boy continue to kick his feet away from the brunette.
—
They’ve been home for about an hour now. By the time Jonny had made it to the entrance door– not even having to open it because Thom had never closed it behind him– he heard a door slam from down the stairs, Thom locking himself in his own bedroom. Jonny laid on the sofa in the living room, mindlessly watching the television as he thought about a mere few years ago, when they were at Abingdon, and everything felt more in place…
“Jonny! That was brilliant! What are you so shy about?!” The blonde buzzed, chasing Jonny up the staircase. The younger one giggled loudly, running into his room, rushing to shut the door before Thom could catch up to him. A little too slow, he feels the door be pushed against his weight, pushing him into the center of the room where he quickly was attacked by his overly giddy friend, feeling his whole body recklessly thud hard onto the not-so-cushiony carpet. Thom landing on top of him. Shrieks and giggles filled the whole room. “I wish you were in the band sooner,” the boy on top of him said once their laughter died down, still catching his breath.
“Colin had me under the impression it was up to you?” he laughed
Thom smoothed back the brown hair messily strewn on Jonny’s forehead, he rolled his eyes playfully, “Colin says plenty of things that are nonsense. Believe me, all the other guys were protesting,” Thom sat up against Jonny’s bed, pulling his knees up comfortably to his chest, “and besides, Colin’s just jealous.” He added, grabbing Jonny’s hand, caressing the boy's bony knuckles.
Jonny sat up too, eyes widening, “What’s Coz got to be jealous of?”
“Phil told me he’s all mad that his ‘baby brother wants nothing to do with him now’” he mock-sobbed, earning a little laugh from the brother.
“Hey, he can’t help that you’re cooler”
“Well, I’d hope you’d find me cooler. It’s not like you want to snog your brother, I’d hope” Jonny immediately swatted his chest at that. Thom mischievously snickered in return.
Jonny, now returning mentally to the present, felt a soft kiss planted on the top of his head. Looking up, he sees tear stained blue eyes looking down at him, a broken smile forming on the sad face. “Jon Jon,” is all he softly speaks
He smiles at the broken boy, but he feels almost sour that he could not be back in the reality of his painfully pleasant memory from a few seconds ago. Thom circles around from the back of the sofa to in front of Jonny, laying almost entirely on top of the taller man, snuggling into him to compromise the lack of space on the short cushions. Jonny feels the weight of Thom’s head on his chest, a bare t-shirted arm snaking around his stomach, Thom’s legs entangling with his. Jonny tilts his head forward slightly from off the pillow below him, trying to look at the boy upon him. While most of his vision is utterly taken over by messy, auburn hair, he can see the pale skin of Thom’s thin arm. He smiles lightly to himself, relieved that he still has yet to have to be worried about any of that yet. Greenwood, you need to be a little more grateful. Being so worried and mopey won’t solve any problems… Any of Thom’s problems.