And in the distance, thunder
Have some soft Jonelias for Jonelias week. Just some fluffy pre-apocalypse discussions of the world they want to make together.
***
“I know you’re not asleep, Jon,” Elias says into the dark of his room. Darkness has never agreed with him well, he prefers to be able to see what’s coming, but he must admit Jon strikes a particularly fetching lump curled beneath the blankets, a pillow crushed tight against his chest like a child might hold a teddy bear. And it’s not like Elias needs to be able to see what’s coming now. Not tonight.
“As if I could sleep,” Jon mumbles, curling tighter into himself as if he could deny the truth of it. The sleeplessness. His body. This world.
“I thought one last stroll beneath the Eye would suit you. Something familiar before it all goes—” Elias makes a fluttering gesture with his hand that would be obscured by the dark of his room, even if Jon had been turned to face him, but in spite of that he is sure that Jon saw and understood. The certainty of it rests warm in the bottom of his chest like a good wine.
“Will I not dream?” Jon asks. There’s no compulsion to the question, just a tight line of anxiety that has Elias’ hand drifting over and smoothing across Jon’s forehead calmingly. Brushing his bangs aside over and over again like a child.
“I don’t know,” Elias answers. “No one knows. No one has ever done what we will do, ever in the history of mankind. Everything we experience will be a discovery.”
“You make it sound beautiful,” Jon murmurs and Elias feels him press back a bit against the palm of his hand. “I should know better than to trust in beautiful things.”