for keepsakes

Oil spattered onto paper and Jonah cried out in frustration, slamming his hand onto the cream sheet and tilted his head to the side to glare at his friend.

“This is fun?”

“Why?” A laugh full of mirth echoed through the silent room. “Do you not find it enjoying?”

“No I do not.” Jonah dropped his pencil and paint onto the slanting table and pushed to his feet. Raising his arms above his head, he let out a long yawn and rolled his head. “Hmm I’m all sore from hunching over.”

“Seriously Jonah, it was you who suggested it.” The laughing boy Quill finally halted his brushing motions and placed the brush delicately into its pot. His dark candied curls sat perfectly on his forehead, lashes wide and brushing against his caramel skin.

Jonah rolled his eyes before grinning impishly. “I know, I know, Quill, but hey, there’s a new bakery shop that’s opened down-“

“Not in a million years Jonah Wickert.” Quill elevated himself onto his feet, long red and brown robes brushing against the floor, his hands palm flat underneath his sheet of paper that he carried to the opposite end of the room.

Underneath beams of warm light, Quill laid the paper gently onto the water and watched it submerge.

“And why not?” Jonah popped his head over Quill’s shoulder. “We always do! Oh c’mon it’ll be fun, this time I swear I’ll have Ahzan make us the freshest rolls.”

Quill listened to Jonah with a smile, the light catching onto the paper, and the blonde boy picked up a pair of tongs to flip the paper over.

“Because,” Quill explained, “last time you set the newly-furnished pastry shop on fire.”

“That was an accident Quill!” Jonah cried out from behind, throwing his hands in the air in final exasperation.

When Quill deemed it not necessary to reply to Jonah, the whiny boy narrowed his eyes and huffed.

“Fine fine. I’ll buy two rolls and eat them all myself!”

“Do. And feed Lana as well, she’s the girl with the scarf at the entrance.”

Silence filled the room for the briefest of seconds. Then,

“Show me your hands.”

Quill’s actions slowed but not fully, and he lost himself in his emotions for a second before turning the paper over again, pulling it out onto the white tile.

Turning around, he wordlessly pulled the cuffs of his robes back and showed his hands palms facing outstretched to Jonah, looking away.

A whisper of a swear came before Quill turned his head to see Jonah grasping his hands.

Quill winced, the pain in his hands increasing as he felt Jonah’s fingers lightly press against the swollen skin.

“That’s why you weren’t drawing Sandra.” Jonah looked through his hair angrily. “Does he not know how much you love drawing? How can he do this?”

Sadness filled Quill’s heart temporarily before he smiled softly and pulled out of Jonah’s grasp. “I chose it, Jonah.” Quill looked down at his scarred hands. “I’ll have to live with it.”

A sound of irritation erupted from the boy. “Stop being melodramatic, Quill. You’ve always went for what you’ve wanted. Why does your motive wither when it comes to this?”

“Because there’s no this,” Quill smiled up before turning back to his picture and saw the painting fully dried and colors stark contrasting against each other. “I’m fine, Jonah,” he assured, picking the tongs up, “Really, I’m happy.”

Jonah knew this was when he should leave. Quill preferred to grieve alone.

“I’ll see you back at the Dorm.” Jonah stood at the door for his farewell, and the honey locked boy gave Jonah a sly smirk over his shoulder. “Bring me some pastries, you hear that?”

The two shared a laugh before the door fell shut behind Jonah and the boy walked down the corridor of the church.

Blinding sunlight pricked at his eyes as he exited the shade of the stoned ceilings and into the warmth of the sunlight. Jonah sighed, rolling his head back before straightening his body at the sight of the group of ladies walking past, giggling behind their palms as their mischievous eyes glanced at Jonah before ushering into the adjacent hall.

Jonah pinked. Tugging at his robes, he turned his head the other direction and walked to the gates of the church, ignoring his flaming cheeks. Why were women so intimidating?

“Wicky Joh!”

Everything turned sour instantly. Turning his head to the side with a purse of his lips and flattened eyes, Jonah watched as the tiny girl known as Gou bounce down the cobblestones, her curly brown hair a mass of bobbing grass.

She stopped in front of him, chin tilted up, caramel eyes alight. “Coming to today’s lecture?”

This was one woman Jonah would never find intimidating.

“N-o,” Jonah pressed the letters out loud firmly, raising his eyebrows, as if speaking to a deaf person, and turned to leave. A hand on his arm halted him. He turned back.

“Oh come on, it’s Professor Heffer! How can you leave like that?” her lips came out in a pout.

Jonah carefully extracted his arm out of her grasp and patted her shoulder. “When you grow to my age you’ll understand.”

“Hey!” now she exclaimed with a stomp of her foot, and Jonah blinked. “I’m a year younger to you Jonah Wickert, not some six-year-old girl. As a matter of fact, I see no interest in you coming to today’s lecture. Go on and have fun with your gang.”

She turned haughtily and made as if to leave. She was clearly expecting him to stop her. Jonah tilted his head up and closed his eyes. This girl was giving him a headache.

“How about,” he started with his eyes still closed, “I meet you towards the end of the lecture. I’ll be there before it ends, okay?”

“Really?” her gasp came, and Jonah groaned. What had he got himself into?

“Yes, yes.” Jonah muttered, wincing as the girl pulled at his cheek in appreciation before bounding off, singing in an awful tune as she disappeared around the corner. Sighing, Jonah rubbed his eyes.

He needed at least four cream buns now.

________________________

Kinther Square of Times & Glory had an extravagant and ornamental name; and for good reason. Kinther spread over a good part of Quhyen, across the main canal and slithered along the cobblestone paths of the precinct. Stalls placed on either sides stretched on where merchants set up their businesses and called out bargains, where lights were strung from balcony to balcony.

As Jonah neared his destination, his nose twitched with the smell of yeast and lavender. His eyes scanned the view and the short, stocky shop of Yeast Pleasures came in sight.

A grin settled onto his face as he ordered a total of six buns – six buns! – and left the shop whistling, hand clutching a paper bag heavy with his dinner.

Even though his wallet was considerably lighter, Keith deemed it invaluable as long as Quill would enjoy it. There were very little things Keith would not do for his friend - emptying his wallet would be to scratch the surface of the list.

As he crossed the bridge, his ears pricked up at the sound of an orchestra, and he swiveled around to follow the music, eyes latching onto a bunch of street performers settled against the main fountain.

Jonah stood for a moment, closing his eyes and slipping into the melody, the violin’s aching cries causing him to squeeze his eyes. His hands twitched at his sides.

It was after a minute did he get a hold of himself. Snapping himself out of the trance, he narrowed his eyes at the musicians before his scowl grew deeper. Growling to himself, he swung around and marched back over to East Bank. Stupid street performers, stupid music. Stupid stupid stupid.

He met Lana, the girl with the scarf at the front entrance, her head bent over a book. She was dressed in scraps, but then again, wasn’t almost everyone?

Squatting down, he placed two buns in her lap, murmuring, “From Quinn,” and quickly rushing away, his heart thumping hard against his chest. Even a girl dressed in rags made Jonah nervous.

When he pushed the door open to the Art room, he noticed silence, and no warmth meant no Quinn. Allowing the door fall shut, Jonah frowned in thought. Where could he have gone?

The Aquatic Gardens!

Lurching into a run, Jonah tugged the bun packet closer to his body, curling over it. He had to keep their dinner warm.

“Quinn?” he called out once he eased the door open.

Darkness enveloped him before his eyes slowly adjusted. Blue, flickering lights pulsed all around him, swimming in a sea of water. Across the large platform, Quinn stood, staring at the tiny blue fish.

“Quinn?” He repeated again, this time softer, as he drew nearer to the quiet boy and poked him at the shoulder.

Jonah’s breath hitched. As Quinn turned to glance at Jonah, his eyes were glassed over and his bottom lip was sucked in.

“Jonah,” he croaked out with a smile. “Did you get those buns?”

“Yeah.” Jonah held the packet up, still staring at Quinn and watched as the dimly lit room hid most of his face. “Let’s eat.”

They sat on the floor together, unwrapping the packet and they ate in silence. Jonah sat upright as Quin nibbled on the bread, and Jonah finally burst,

“Why were you crying Quinn?”

A blanket of nothingness shrouded them as the two boys were silent, one lost in thought and tracing patterns onto the floor, the other staring intently at the unaware boy.

“Quinn?” he prodded.

“Don’t worry about it, Jonah.” Quinn smiled up at Jonah only to come up short. Jonah was glaring so ferociously at Quinn that it made him fall silent for another moment.

“The Maghur, he won’t listen to my requests. He says it’s all folly, that I’ll regret my decisions. He says he’s protecting me.”

Jonah uttered an impolite word, before placing his uneaten part down, stretching out his legs. “And?”

“Well, there’s not much I can do, right? He’s taken me in, he’s fed me all these years. I can’t repay him by going against him.”

“Quinn, you’re thinking into this too much.” Jonah leaned forward. “If you don’t follow through with this, no one will benefit from it besides the Maghur. You’ll be living in misery and I’ll be damned to watch you crumble every single hour.”

“You’re daring, Jonah.” Quinn smiled, his eyes sad. “I’m not.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jonah rolled his eyes. “Enough with beating around the bush, tell me,” he leaned towards the blonde boy, “Are you going to run away with Sandra or not?”

Quinn’s cheeks seemed to have taken a tint of pink, and he ducked away. “Where did that come from? N-No, I won’t, I can’t!”

“You won’t?” Jonah raised an unimpressed eyebrow, lips turned down in disappointment. “Would you mind then if I took her?”

He didn't mean it - heavens know he could never mean it - but he said it in good intent - in hopes that Quill would make up his mind.

The statement must’ve pricked a nerve, because Quinn stilled, candied curls shaking ever so slightly as he raised his head, and through the blackness of the Aquatic Garden, Jonah managed to quiver underneath the coldness in Quinn’s gaze.

“I would,” he said dangerously soft. “I would mind tremendously.”

Jonah was breathless for a moment before shaking his head and ripping himself from the trance, pushing to his feet and mumbling out, “W-Well then, get to it. Send a letter to me when you decide at what time you’ll leave and I’ll fetch her for you.”

Quinn’s eyes bored into Jonah’s back as he left the room.

Jonah would do many things for his friend, indeed, but with every risk comes a cost. And even then, Jonah would be willing to take it.

Even if it meant death.