Thursday Evening

A/N~ I didn't make EdMo. 96 minutes of pure editing a day is WAY harder than it sounds. I did get about 25% done with the editing, unfortunately, that leaves about 120 hours left until I'm completely done editing my novel. (I logged about 40 hours.)

Anyway... April's fools is this writing contest for this month, and guess what? Anything I write counts towards my "modest" goal of 25k. The primary work'll be a comedy of sorts, but I'm finishing this up first. (There's really not that many chapters left. I wrote the last chapter ages ago) But here's 597 words of unedited Jon/Andrew. More'll come tomorrow. It's already written, but I have stuff to do for the rest of the day.

Reviews appreciated!

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Weeks passed before anything happened. I shouldn’t say that. Things always happen, even if you don’t want them to. We started to become more comfortable with each other. Ever since we met his sister, he’s been more willing to voice his opinions on things. He seems to realize that I don’t care if he’s right or wrong all the time. I think that he used to.

He even started to tell me certain things I do that bug him. He hates it when a go for a few days without shaving my stubble, like on long weekends. He explains that it hides my “handsome” jaw, but his voice quavers as he goes into the real reason behind it.

He says that all of his customers used to come to him without caring about their appearance. Most of them would be half-shaved, their faces filled with five o’clock shadows, and I knew that he spoke the truth. I knew because I had once cared so little about my appearance with him on those nights, at the very beginning. Then, I had started to care…

So, he tells me that he prefers me clean-shaven. He tells me that I look more like the hero that I am like that. But I know better. He doesn’t initiate anything when I don’t shave. He can’t stand it.

I don’t know when he started to act so secretive. I know that it wasn’t too long after he told me about how he prefers me clean-shaven. It feels like forever, though. He hasn’t been meeting my gaze lately, and I’m wondering what’s going on. I keep on asking him, and he won’t answer. He’s being quiet and he’s not eating as much as he used to. I dislike how secretive he’s become.

I want to know what’s happening with him. My face isn’t scruffy; I know that’s not it.


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I disowned her. The first few weeks were tough. I kept on thinking about all that I had ever done for her. Not just the sex. I thought of the teachers that I had lied to; the meals that I had missed; the blows I took for her. In the end, it didn’t matter. Nothing about that part of my life mattered. The only good thing that had come from it was that I had met Jon. I didn’t save her like I had intended to, so long ago.

I kept on thinking about how he was right. I kept on dwelling on that. It made me feel inferior, like I had no wisdom. I hated that feeling. I kept on expecting him to tell me that I was wrong. That I was a moron, but, it never happened. I don’t know why I keep on expecting it. Those negative words don’t come out of his mouth.

But then the calls started. At first, I didn’t recognize the voice. Then, I recognized it. Her voice. My sister’s. I don’t know how Sara got it, but she had gotten the house number. And when she spoke, I heard a voice in the background. A voice that I thought I had forgotten. I hung up, claiming a wrong number in a fake voice. My heart beat so fast, and I didn’t tell him. I’m anxious again, and when he tries to kiss me, I snap at his scruffiness. I lie. I don’t tell him the truth. I can’t tell him that she found us. That he found us.

I can’t look him in the eyes and for the first time in a long time, I’m afraid.