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Prompt 3: The most severe rainy days are now behind us, YAY! However, the weeds in the garden/yard have become overgrown, seems like it's time to roll up those sleeves, grab some gardening gloves and add some color to liven things up. What new plants do you add to the flower bed or do you have anything but a green thumb where plants just won't thrive?
Word Count, Total: 1749
- Jonah: 1061
Haven: 688
August didn’t have any plants, or even any space for a garden, which meant Jonah didn’t have to add the maintenance of one to his list of responsibilities. Sometimes, though, he thought it would’ve been nice to have one. He didn’t mind digging in the dirt every once in a while, and he liked the smell and the look of flowers. They might help break up some of the clean lines and sterile decor August favored.
Not that Jonah even knew if August truly favored it. Maybe it was simply what he’d become accustomed to. The apartment had come with a certain look and August may not have bothered to change it. Jonah couldn’t be sure. He’d never asked. Discussing interior design didn’t seem like a conversation August would like to have.
Whatever the case, Jonah satisfied his fondness for a bit of gardening by helping his younger sister.
Haven lived in a little two bedroom townhouse within walking distance of the ice rink. She didn’t pay for it; Jonah was certain of that. Haven had always been the favorite child, even if they were both similarly studious, both having grown into quiet adults. Haven was bold in a way Jonah would never be, and had accomplishments for their grandfather to be proud of. It meant Haven got a healthy allowance, and a place to live without having to worry about a mortgage or rent.
Jonah didn’t begrudge her for it. He was happy that she never had to struggle for their grandfather’s approval like he did.
“Where’s Peter?”
“Still in DC on his internship,” Haven said, then clarified, “The other DC.”
The front of the townhouse was lined by flowerbeds; hydrangeas bloomed a cheerful blue, adding a bright pop of color against the exterior of gray stone. Haven could’ve hired someone to come by to maintain the little garden, and often thought of doing just that, but weeding gave her an excuse to spend some time outside. She was cooped up enough between the ice rink and college classes. She could use a bit of sun, even if she wasn’t particularly fond of being in nature. (Studying it was one thing. Experiencing it wasn’t always to her liking, especially with the bigs.)
“August at work?”
“Mmm.”
His sister was the only family who knew about August. Their parents knew he’d found work as a personal assistant, but never asked for specifics, and Jonah knew their grandfather would be much less satisfied with it if he knew Jonah was living with his employer. (Celeste already called him the House Boy. No doubt their grandfather would assume the same thing — with even more derision, if that were possible.)
Yet Haven and August had never met. Jonah always gave the excuse that August was busy with work. The truth was he didn’t know if August would want to, and he was afraid of what Haven might think. She’d been accepting so far — happy for him, even, that he had a job and someone who could be considered a friend — but he knew August wasn’t to everyone’s liking. What if Haven changed her mind after meeting him? What if she thought he was too cold or too cruel or too different from what she’d no doubt hoped for?
“When does Peter get back?” Jonah asked.
It was better to talk about Haven and Peter, her childhood rival turned friend. Jonah remembered him as a precocious child, a bit of a know-it-all like Haven used to be, but ultimately a good kid. The Gallos were a good family, the type his own family liked to associate with, if only for what doing so meant for their image. (His grandfather certainly didn’t agree with their politics.)
“Sometime this summer,” Haven said.
Much like Jonah kept August a secret from their family, Haven kept Peter a secret, too. Not that they didn’t know him. They did. Haven’s mother used to encourage her to be friendly with him, to get along with him, back when they were kids living in the same upscale neighborhood. They would visit each other's houses and play in each other’s yards, even when they didn’t always get along.
They knew Peter. They knew she was friendly with him now.
They didn’t know he was staying with her.
Jonah didn’t worry about Haven having boys over the way their grandfather did (the way their parents might, too). She was twenty-two, and smart enough to know her own boundaries, and he knew Peter wasn’t the type to push.
“Have you asked him out yet?”
Haven ducked her head to cover her blush.
She couldn’t pretend that the assumption wasn’t a logical one. She didn’t have many friends, often finding it difficult to invite people into her confidence. Peter was different because she’d know him for so long. Friendship was easy now, after they'd both grown and changed and matured. (Being Senshi together probably helped.)
But they weren’t dating — never had, even if Peter was the only person she could imagine herself giving it a try with, even if she thought, one day, maybe they would.
“We go out all the time,” Haven insisted, purposefully misinterpreting the question. “We get coffee or we grab food, or we’ll go to the gym together.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Jonah said.
He didn’t look at her, didn’t revel in her embarrassment, but a small smile twitched onto his face. He continued to pluck weeds from the flowerbed, acting as if they had these sorts of conversations all the time. They didn’t. Neither of them were particularly invested in the idea of physical or romantic relationships, so there generally hadn’t been many opportunities to discuss either of them.
Jonah wondered if it was wrong of him to tease. He knew he wouldn’t like it if anyone did the same.
Haven knew that, of course, so she countered with, “Have you asked August out yet?”
Heat flooded through Jonah’s face, spreading out to the tips of his ears. He couldn’t blame it on the sun, which was bright but, at this time of year, hadn’t yet promoted the sweltering temperatures that would come as spring bled into summer.
He, too, ducked his head, but he wasn’t as successful at hiding his blush. His hair wasn’t long enough to hide behind.
“I—... We go out.”
“Really,” Haven said, not bothering to phrase it as a question. She knew he didn’t mean it the way she’d implied.
Jonah was so shy, but he was kind and helpful, too. He deserved someone who would appreciate those things about him. Haven didn’t know August, so she couldn’t determine if he treated Jonah as well as he should, but considering Jonah hadn’t had any complaints, Haven thought it likely that August knew what he had in Jonah.
“Well, we—… I mean—… We go for… coffee… sometimes…” Jonah’s hands clenched in the dirt as he cast around for examples to offer that weren’t the same as Haven’s. “And then… I help him with his research. And we—... At night we… go for walks…”
These days, most of Jonah’s time with August was spent as Roselite and Bloodstone, but he couldn’t exactly tell his sister that. She knew nothing of the war; Jonah preferred to keep it that way. One of them should lead an uncomplicated life.
“But… August isn’t—... I don’t think he’s… like that.”
Even though Jonah had been around August enough to learn when he was pleased by or appreciative of something Jonah had a hand in, August was far from affectionate. His relationships with people seemed more like a means to an end than anything truly valuable to him. Jonah didn’t dislike that about him. In fact, he thought it made things refreshingly uncomplicated.
They could just be.
When Jonah was silent for too long, Haven prompted him, “Like what?”
“He isn’t… romantic…” As soon as he said it, Jonah went back to pulling out weeds, tearing them between his hands nervously. “And… I don’t want that from him. I… I respect him as he is, and… he respects me, too.”
Jonah thought so, anyway — as much as August was able to respect anyone. He didn’t know what he’d done to earn it, and he often feared that he might one day lose it, but Jonah knew he had it. August never even had to say it. The fact that he kept Jonah around spoke volumes to someone who’d grown used to being left behind or pushed away.
Haven considered this, rolled the thought around in her head, then accepted it and chose to end her teasing. Jonah might actually burst from embarrassment if she kept it going any longer. He didn’t usually stammer so much when they were talking, not like he did with everyone else.
“Alright,” she said. “As long as you’re happy.”
“I am,” Jonah insisted. He had no reason not to be, not anymore. “Are you?”
Haven thought the question over before answering. There were parts of her life she was unsure of. She never thought of herself as a good Senshi. She remained undecided about what she wanted to do about her figure skating career; she had no idea what her plans would be when she retired from competition. She wasn’t sure how to help Peter, who still felt the loss of his father well over a year later, and probably always would.
But none of those things had brought her so far down that she disliked any part of her life.
“Yeah,” she said, when she could be certain of the answer.
No matter how uncertain she felt about all of it, Haven hadn’t lost hope yet.
Jonah smiled, relieved. He only wanted the best for his sister. Seven years separated them in age, but no one would know it looking at them from the outside. Haven was his best friend; she’d been his only friend, back when she was young and bossy and he’d been worse off with nerves than he was now.
He wondered, sometimes, if that made him pathetic, but he consoled himself with the knowledge that, even if he was, having Haven on his side was worth it. In the face of their parents’ neglect and their grandfather’s disapproval, Haven reminded him that he wasn’t alone.
Their lives might be different now, but Jonah knew that hadn’t changed. They tended to one another the way they tended to Haven’s small garden — with patience and care.
