scene thirty-seven - cold - year nine

Jayden was always late. There was something quietly comfortable about his consistency, though; they could bank on him being at least ten minutes late whenever they arranged anything, so here they were, sitting around the back of the canteen, waiting for the blood to drain from their feet as they sat cross-legged on the concrete. If it was a warm, Summer’s day, they might’ve enjoyed the wait a little more, but the coldness of the Winter was nipping at their skin constantly, making them wish, just a little, that their boyfriend would hurry up and drag himself out of whatever detention he’d found himself in a little quicker.

“Jey!” Smiling at the sound of his voice, which they’d learned to identify quickly, they attempted to rise from the ground, their arms flailing a little as they attempted to regain control of their limbs. “Christ, you look like a fish on land, or some weird shit like that- let me help you, babe.”