"Hello?" a voice answered.

"Frankie?" Jonathon pulled his cell phone away from his ear and looked at the screen, to make sure he dialed the right number.

"Yeah. What's up?"

"Is Timothy there? I called his number, right?"

"Yeah, but he doesn't want to talk to you."

"But what did I do?"

Frankie sighed. Hold on." Jonathon heard a door close and footsteps on stairs. A few minutes later, Frankie spoke again. "You didn't do anything."

Jonathon was confused. "Then why doesn't he want to talk to me?"

"He's scared. He told me what happened. He is completely fucked out of his mind because he thinks you hate him now."

Jonathon's voice broke. "Did you tell him the truth?"

"Jonathon, it is not my place to do that. You need to tell him yourself."

"How can I, if he won't talk to me?"

"You have to make him listen to you." There was a pause as Frankie let her words sink in.

Jonathon hung up the phone and sat back down on the grass. He had to do it. He had to tell Timothy how he felt. He had to let him know that he didn't hate him. He looked at the spot to the right of him, where Timothy had sat. He wanted more than anything for him to be back there.

He slowly got to his feet again. He walked out from under the branches of the willow tree and started for him. He barely looked over at the faint flicker of purple in the line of trees to his right. He broke into a jog, trying to keep his breathing stready. As he reached the edge of the park, he broke into a sprint, with only one direction in mind.

…...

He stopped running in front of Timothy's house. Dance music was drifting down from an open window on the second floor, the drapes fluttering slightly in the light breeze. He walked up the driveway, past Frankie's beat-up pickup truck and knocked on the screen door. A few minutes passed before Frankie appeared, looking out the mesh of the screen.

"Where is he?" Jonathon asked.

"Upstairs."

"Can you tell him that I am here?"

"I don't think it will make a difference. He is up there crying. He really wanted your friendship, if nothing else."

"That's just it. He can have it...and more!" Jonathon cried, exasperated. "That is what I want to tell him."

Frankie sighed. "That is Timothy's problem. He thinks everyone is against him. He even acts this way with Donna."

"Who's Donna?"

"His mother. His father left a couple years ago, after he came out. He blames himself for it. He feels that since his father left, that no one actually cares about him."

"But you do."

Frankie nodded. "He knows that. I am pretty much the only person he believes he has that is on his side. It's sad, really. That is why you need to tell him. No. You need to convince him of your feelings."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"I already told you. It has to be something big and romantic to get his attention. Use your head. You will think of something, I'm sure."

"Frankie!" Jonathon heard Timothy's voice call. "Get back up here!" Jonathon's heart ached when he heard the pain in Timothy's voice.

Frankie looked back over her shoulder. "I got an idea. Come in, but be quiet." She held open the screen door and stepped aside to let Jonathon inside. "Follow me. Stay completely quiet and listen. Don't say a word, no matter what you hear."

Jonathon nodded and followed quietly behind Frankie as she walked through the house, up the creaking stairs and to the second story landing. She pointed to the wall next to the first door on the left. She put her finger to her lips and pointed again at the wall. Jonathon tiptoed over to the wall and stood there. Frankie smiled and opened the door to Timothy's bedroom.

"Who was it?" Timothy asked.

"Oh. It was Nora Fay, looking for Donna." Jonathon heard the bed squeak as Frankie sat on it. "So, I still don't understand why you are so upset. You kissed him. Isn't that what you wanted to do?"

"I wanted it, but he didn't."

"How do you know that?"

"He is straight. He has a girlfriend." Jonathon stiffened. What was he going to do about Becky? The conversation on the other side of the wall brought his attention back.

"Hasn't he stuck up for you when some of the rugby players were harassing you?"

"Yeah. So?"

"Well, maybe hes gay-friendly. Maybe you should talk to him and explain what happened."

Timothy sighed deeply. "What happened is that I assulted him."

Frankie chuckled. "Assulted? That's a strong word, isn't it? You just kissed him."

"And kissing a straight guy is assult."

Jonathon smiled as he heard Frankie laugh out loud. "Why are you so worried about this?"

"Because he is the star rugby player. The big man on campus. How do you think other people are going to feel about the resident queer being in love with him?"

Jonathon's face felt hot. Had he heard him right? Frankie seemed to be reading his thoughts. "What did you say?"

"You heard me, Frankie." There was renewed sobbing. "I love him. I love Jonathon Cordon."

Jonathon heard enough. He slowly climbed down the stairs, stepping over the creaking steps. He hurriedly rushed out of the house and ran towards the school to get his car. One thought kept swimming to the front of his mind. Timothy loved him. Timothy wanted to be with him. Jonathon's face hurt from smiling so much.

…...

A/N: Yes, this was a short chapter. As you can probably tell, it is reaching it's conclusion. If you want more Timothon, please R/R and let me know. I have so many more ideas.