FALL - "All thieves and lovers are faithful admirers of sin."
Drama/Romance
[Jonathan Crane x OC]
T for Teen: Violence, Mild Suggestive Themes, Mild Use of Coarse Language.
Summary: High School. Society's bright idea: put all their aggressive, naive youth into one terrarium to torment and emotionally scar each other for life. How anyone can come through that well-adjusted on any level is an absolute miracle.
Chapter Two: L – anguage/etters
Four more transfer students had come later into their school, three girls, two of whom were freshmen, and one senior that would skip class to constantly smoke in the ladies' washroom. One junior boy transferred out as they moved upstate with their family and taking his place was another boy from upstate moving in with his uncle. Jonathan kept up with the latest gossip lest he became the subject of it by mistake – he was already a topic among his peers for being that weird kid. He did not need anything else added to it that could blindside him.
Speaking of gossip. Leonard may not have been on the football team but now had the reputation for hanging out with the quote: cool kids. In truth, he hung out more with the cheer squad than the guys. This was working out in Jonathan's favor to be honest. Daniel's girlfriend broke up with him and boldly asked Leo out. It was the hot gossip of the week that Leonard turned her down saying he already had his eye on someone else – but refused to say who. Claiming to be too shy to ask. He reminded Jonathan of the cowardly lion from The Wizard of Oz in that regard.
Why was this good for Jonathan though? Because it meant the football guys were paying less attention to him to keep watch on their girls. The new male was decent by social standards to look at, made the girls smile and laugh often, and was strong enough to not get outright bullied like Jonathan was. It was a point proven when Leonard lifted a whole cafeteria table - connected sixteen-seater benches and all - like it was nothing so Mindy-Lea could retrieve her dropped hair scrunchy and not be forced to crawl on the gross floor. And it did not seem like Leonard had any interest in bullying Jonathan either, he'd ignored his very existence after their first encounter. He hoped this trend kept up all year.
"Mister Broussard," their teacher, Mrs. Williams, had stopped what she was explaining to the class looking towards Leonard in the back of the room, "since you seem so bored," he had obviously flipped ahead many pages, "care to join us back on chapter six and read the first paragraph aloud." She wasn't asking and trying to make an example out of him for seeming lazy.
"Yes ma'am," He stood up flipping back to the right page and held the book in one hand, "La maison qu'il habitait se composait, nous l'avons dit, d'un rez-de-chaussée et d'un seul étage: trois pièces au rez-de-chaussée, trois chambres au premier,"
This was French I, right? Jonathan picked up his eyes from the book to look behind himself along with the majority of the class at that moment. He was having a hard time reading at the pace this young man was speaking. Something about his French was not traditional either – it sounded familiar and Jonathan realized Leonard was probably raised on Cajun French. Could it have been his first language? Not that they sounded exact, Leonard still stumbled on a word here or there but there was no reason he should even be in this class. The school might have just shoved him into the only language course that they could with him transferring in.
By the time Jonathan looked back down to his book, Leonard was finishing off the paragraph, "aux curés de campagne que des affaires ou les besoins de leur paroisse amenaient à Digne." Then he scooted back into his seat without another word.
"… Uh. That was, good." She was the type of teacher to never admit anyone did anything above just good, "Clara Beth you can read the next sentence." Jonathan nearly scoffed aloud – no one was going to follow that up with any kind of dignity.
He got to watch amused as Clara Beth paled then flushed bright red as she tried to sound out the words.
The rumor that Leo knew the language of love was the next hot gossip about him to weed its way through the school. He had all kinds of trouble his way from it, girls trying to write him love letters in French or asking him to help them 'study' was the new fad for the following month.
Jonathan got to witness Leonard's first fistfight with Daniel over it because 'his girl' was still fawning over the guy. While they both came out of it bloodied, bruised and battered Leonard had in the end physically picked up Daniel and thrown him like a haybale across the dirt courtyard. Leaving the smaller halfback runner of the football team on the ground in a cloud of dust groaning. He was done.
"Wrestlin' my sister is more a challenge, boy." He spoke the insult then spat blood from his mouth. Clearly, his nose had been broken, he had a busted lip and likely had a dislocated or brok–CRACK – no longer had a dislocated finger. He just pulled it back into place, "Fu- Holy hell that smarts!" He yelled out fighting the urge to shake his hand from the pain. His eyes squeezed shut as his head bobbed down then opened as he looked towards the sky with a cringing scowl, trying desperately not to tear up. It did not fit his features well. As his head came back down he caught Jonathan staring. And Leonard stared back, the scowl melting away.
Daniel had not been done. He saw his chance and took it, getting up like a silently rising zombie and sucker punched Leonard in the temple. Knocking the young man out cold.
Everyone knew Daniel had taken the cheap shot to win too and it changed the pecking order only a little – not that it mattered for Jonathan who was always at the bottom of it. When Leonard returned to school he was still in with the cool kids, the girls dotted on him like he was a wounded kitten. And Daniel? When Daniel got back from suspension he took his anger out on the only wimp they could easily get away with, Jonathan.
He really should think about keeping a flashlight in his locker. Perhaps non-perishable snacks too. This time his books were neatly stacked out of the way and ready for his eventual return. Unfortunately, his growth spurt had caused him to achieve a now six foot two inches and he was still gaining stretch marks on his back and legs. The locker was more cramped than ever. He wondered if there would be a day that he'd not fit in here – would they break something to make him? Jonathan groaned at the idea of being folded like bad origami.
He heard the combination lock of the locker next to him spin and the metal door open, "… Leonard?" His voice was tentative, unsure of who was there as it was impossible to see out of the locker in the position he was in. Jonathan just hoped it was so he might be let out again before the day got too late.
The grate was blocked by someone peering in and he heard the spin of his lock before the fluorescent hall light flooded into the locker. Jonathan backed out stumbling over his spindly legs, Leonard looked like he wanted to catch him but the hard tile floor came up faster than the blond moved. Instead, Jonathan was presented with Leonard's hand extended toward him.
The offending hand was backhanded away, "I don't need your help to stand up." There may have been no one in the halls but the kids that had extra circular activities as the school day was over, even so, he did not want anyone to see him being so weak and useless.
"Aight then." The blond moved his hand back to his side and waited for Jonathan to get up, "Oh yeah," he turned and grabbed something out of his locker holding it in his hands for a moment while Jonathan got up, "I, uh… was in my locker…" he was failing to complete full sentences, "to uh…"
Normally Leonard knew he sounded like a backwoods country bumpkin that barely had an education, far from the truth, but this time. Good lord, he sounded stupid. He could hardly speak. He wanted to tell Jonathan the letter was for him, from himself. The words that would come out, came out a dumb-sounding jumbled mess. Finally, he just said, "Here." And held out the letter.
Jonathan eyed it suspiciously. It did have his name on it, elegantly written in pencil with cursive. He snatched the letter.
It became the first of many to appear in his locker.
The first one he had brushed off as a prank – it was not the first time Bo and his gang had tried this tactic. He read it out of curiosity and tossed it in the trash. The second one caused him to look around before he read it and crumpled it into a waste bin. The third he read while inside his locker having found it stuck slightly to the inside of the grate. The next few he had taken home, read then burned just to make sure his grandmother would not see them. He then got one that included a tiny sampler bottle of primer and concealer with instructions on how to cover his most recent shiner. The little treasure was kept but not used for some time. He had lost track of how many he'd gotten at that point. Some of them were short and simple, others had been longer, each one flattering in its own way. A couple had been poems and another held well-taken notes he'd missed from a class. They were all certainly love letters anyway he looked at them. Yet not a single one of them had been signed nor spoke to any volume of who may have been writing them.
His peers thought he was the creep… this individual must have watched him day in and day out at least during school hours. He could not convince himself after three months of this that it was some elaborate prank. No one on the football team had that kind of patience and he was losing confidence that it was one of the cheer girls trying to pull something. Perhaps one of the transfers that did not know his rumors well enough… could it be one of those girls actually liked him? It felt uncomfortable to think about.
Jonathan had brought another letter home; the plain envelope was sealed with nothing but a single square piece of tape. His chipped nail scratched at it. The attention was something he did not know what to do with. The most frustrating part was he could not do anything with it without knowing who was sending them either. He refused to ask anyone if they knew who, if his bullies found out he was getting love letters – he did not want to think about it. He closed his eyes and tapped the letter's edge to his forehead as if the action would clear his head of those thoughts.
The letter was unexpectedly taken from his digits, "What's this?" He'd not heard the old crone shuffle towards him at all.
Jonathan's eyes popped open, "N-nothing grandmother." His voice had trembled which caused her to look from the back where he'd peeled away the tape to his name on the front of it written so neatly. Please don't ope—she was opening it. Her face after reading the first line told him all he needed to know about how his night was about to go. He never got to see what the letter read before she thwacked him with it, "What is this!?" She demanded with vile, "Who is this from, some whore in your classes hm? Exchanging daring wanton notes, does it excite you? Something to wickedly fantasize over in the darkness under your covers with?" All answers he could not rightly give no matter how many times she tried to beat it out of him.
Jonathan,
Your voice sets my heart to flutter, you are my deepest fairy-tale. Because you are the only person I wish to speak with about the shade of a cloud, debate the song of thought, and how when I walked by the winter withered sunflower fields, your visage made them bloom for me. Will you ever speak to me like this, to give me a letter in return? Your silence on the matter has my heart on edge, it speaks volumes to a disinterest, yet I cannot bring myself to stop writing you without hearing a reply – even if it must be a No. I shall wait at your locker tomorrow.
Jonathan did not go to school the next day, he spent it in the shed being purged of sinful thoughts his grandmother assumed he had.