icebergloungers | won't you take me by the hand

When the new neighbours had arrived, Ed had been sitting on the stoop of the building his apartment was in, huddled close to the wall to avoid the rain. He didn't have an actual estimate of how many hours he had spent on that stoop over the years, but he was fairly sure it was an impressive amount. Usually it was pretty boring, but every now and then, it could get interesting. Such as when he'd watched those newcomers.

Only the father had said anything, but that had been enough for Edward to determine that they had to come from somewhere South of here. The boy looked about his age, if lanky, and the whole family looked as if it would fit right into the neighbourhood. As broken and miserable as everything here.

He went unnoticed, of course, huddled against the wall as he was, but that suited him just fine. Gave him time to see and draw his conclusions. And when he saw the new neighbour's boy stand outside the building a few days later, Ed walked right over, hands in his pockets. "Heya. You want some gum?"

The roles in their friendship were pretty defined. Edward was the one who got people more, he was the one with more practical life skills - especially since shucking corn and whatever the hell 'haying' was certainly wasn't something that had a lot of application in the city - and he was the one who kept an eye on the time when they were in the library, because Jonathan forgot the world around him when he had a book.

Unfortunately, Edward had been working on a computer programme, making some real progress, and so he had lost track himself. It was darker than it should be by the time he realised and then he had to find Jonathan, not surprised to see him curled up on the floor, leaning against a bookcase. He crouched down next to his friend, shaking his shoulder. "Jon. Jon, come on. Getting late."

The first question to ask was whether the body he was looking at was alive, which was perhaps a question that should have concerned Ed more, but he had grown up in the Narrows. There was a limited amount of empathy he could have for some nameless potential corpse.

However, the body groaned and he realised it was not a corpse. Good to know, he supposed. Moving his foot carefully, he nudged him in the side. Huh. He looked a little bit familiar. What was this about? He didn't smell any alcohol. Had to be other drugs then. Maybe this was related to Mr Crane?

"Well, I do think that could have gone worse. In the grand scheme of things." Jonathan remarked as he climbed out of the dumpster, rubbing his neck as he dropped onto the floor and making sure that Butch and his goons had gone. God, he really wished they wouldn't throw them like that - they weren't that sturdy. Looking at the dumpster, he made sure Edward was climbing out okay and went to fish their backpacks off the floor where all their stuff had been dumped out.

Maybe Edward shouldn't have corrected Butch's grammar. Maybe Jonathan shouldn't have called him a dumb gorilla. Maybe. Just maybe.

"Luckily we have nothing of value to trash so jokes on them."

It had been an interesting summer in a number of ways. At first it had simply been more of the same, just worse. No school, which was a mixed blessing, and no Jonathan, which was total misery. Edward ended up spending most of his time in the library and other places with a computer, building up his skills and starting a few projects. And, of course, he still had some things to investigate, even if none of them were nearly as interesting as Jonathan's father, something that was obviously impossible to look into much while the man was in Georgia.

Eventually, he did notice one interesting change, as some of his clothes stopped fitting and, more miraculously, some finally fit. That growth spurt he'd been waiting for was finally happening. Sure, it wasn't looking as if he'd be as tall as Jonathan, but he wasn't quite that short any more. Even more interesting was the day some squirt from down the street called him 'sir' when attempting to hustle him. Obviously premature, but kids were dumb. Still, he was catching on. He no longer looked as if he was eternally twelve somehow.

All of these developments were interesting and they required testing. So far, the tool he had used most often when it came to manipulation had been annoying people, provoking people and, at times, making them feel sorry for him. All useful, depending on the circumstances. But now he finally seemed to be able to pull on a few more tools. Charm. Maybe not quite the Harvey Dent kind of charm, but his own, which he was getting better at working. Turned out that people minded riddles a lot less when they were charmed. Go figure.

Honestly, in spite of all that, he wasn't expecting a massive difference for school life, but it had opened his eyes to possibilities in the future, outside of school. He was excited to tell Jonathan about his thoughts, not that he expected Jonathan to care, but he missed his friend. Which was why, after he hadn't been able to wait for Jonathan by his door - his father had watched him leave - he waited for him by the school gate instead, scribbling in a notebook to pass the time and leaning against a wall, hoping to remain mostly unnoticed.

"You shouldn't hide things from me, boy. I only want the best for you. I want to help you. You won't be flawed like the rest. Weak." Mr Crane was speaking in that way that changed rapidly from almost mumbling to himself to fixating his son with an intense look, fidgety as he tended to be these days. "We are close to a breakthrough. I just need a little more-- I'll get it right."

The tricky thing was the paranoia. But how paranoid was it when he knew, just knew, that they really were trying to stop him? Somebody was, he was certain of it. Or maybe they wanted to steal his research. "How are you feeling today, son?"

He released Jonathan's shoulder to grab a pen instead, so he could jot down notes. "What about the dreams?"

"Feeling better, Jonny?" Even from a few feet away, Jonathan looked pale and sickly. Which, no, wasn't anything new, but it seemed even more extreme. Therefore, the worry on Edward's face was obvious when he closed the distance between them, one hand hovering near Jonathan. He did look as if he was about to collapse. "You should be lying down. I could bring you some noodle soup."

What's the most romantic part of the ocean?

Jonathan was feeling a lot better these days, mostly down to a mix of self medicating and booze but hey, it worked. Sometimes the world got weird still but he had enough of a balance to focus. He told his father to calm down, lied and told him the feds were looking around. It hadn't stopped him but he had chilled out a little. That gave Jonathan enough time to recover and refocus.

And that also meant more free time. More time with Edward specifically. Edward was always off with his girlfriend while he was trapped with his father so it was nice to just have him back, all his. Only his.

Of course, that didn't mean he had to listen to him. He turned his head, cigarette in his mouth, looking confused. "What did you say?"

think I'm having my first ever hangover

hate it

Initially, Edward had thought of a couple of increasingly convoluted plans to get Jonathan to be some place with him, alone and without a way to get out. He had thought of a few more or less practical locations, a couple of plans of actions and he even had a riddle or two at the ready.

But then he was at the library and came across Jonathan alone in one of the study rooms, so he simply walked in, slammed the door shut, locked it and crouched down, sliding the key out under the door. There, now they were locked in. Still crouching, he smiled at Jonathan, chin resting in one hand. "Hi, Jon."

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