"You could not imagine a more eerie stillness. Around the tower all was silent, except for the birds twittering in fear. The storm clouds were almost as dark as night, those sorts of clouds that are almost black. All was still aside from the gusts of wind bringing those clouds in, rustling through the silvery leaves on the trees. But at the first crack of lightning, it was clear. It was no ordinary storm."

"It sounds like the end of the world."

"That's exactly what she said. Well, actually, she called it a 'cataclysm,'" Elliot said, pushing a laugh out of their perfect straightened teeth. They ran several fingers through their dark hair before continuing. "Typical Peaches, really."

Their uncle, though, was not amused by such an idea. He sat there with a rigidity that only a trained singer would have, biting off chapped bits of skin from his lip. No, Jon Jasper did not enjoy the idea of anyone imagining the apocalypse, let alone the girl who Elliot joked about.

"Why was she dreaming about the end of the world?"

"No, Uncle Jon. She wasn't dreaming about anything. It was definitely not a dream, she says."

"It sounds like a dream to me..."

"Exactly! But Peaches says that it's a 'premonition.' She thinks that she can sense something bad coming up. I swear, Peaches would be better off as a psychic than a singer. Besides, who says the word 'premonition' in this century, anyways?" Elliot said, rolling their eyes. "I swear, I never have to pick up an SAT vocab book. I just listen to Peaches talk for a few minutes and suddenly I know everything."

"Elliot, you know better than to talk about her like that," Jon chastised. Elliot didn't respond much to this snap despite its suddenness.

"Please, I've been dating her for four years! It's not like I'm being mean to her. I'm just poking some fun at her."

Jon was tempted to say more to his nibling, but before he could collect his thoughts Elliot ended up bursting into another round of speech.

"She looked so serious! You should have seen her, looking as if she was about to cry. God. I don't see any reason why she should think this is anything. It's just a nightmare. A premonition nightmare," Elliot said, waving the problem aside.

Once again, Jon couldn't collect his thoughts before Elliot ended up intervening.

"Poor Peaches. She thinks she's a psychic or something along those lines. Can't say I know where she's getting it from."

"She is an intelligent girl," Jon replied. "I mean, I teach her - I should know."

"Oh, sometimes I forget about all that," Elliot said, pushing out a sigh of sorts. "She talks about you sometimes, did you know that?"

"Does she?" Jon asked. Without thinking, he ended up propelling himself forward, a gleam hanging in his eyes. "What does she say?"

"She says that you're made for your job. And an excellent teacher for what you do."

"Is that all?"

"What, is she supposed to say something more? Did you think she was a psychic, Jon?" Elliot replied, laughing. "Was she supposed to predict your future? I thought that might just be enough - she does want to do vocal music when she grows up. Speaking of that...do you think she can?"

Jon took a moment to register that he was still in the center of the conversation. Just seconds before, his thoughts had tugged on his mind to move elsewhere.

"Oh? Well, I think so..." he replied, attempting to root himself back with Elliot. "She is very talented, even if she does have to work on her breathing at times. I mean, that's something she could sort out...I just wish she would focus more whenever she is in a class with me."

"She can't focus?" Elliot asked. "Well, I guess that does make sense. We are talking about Peaches here. Every time I try to have a conversation with her, she always pouts and ends up saying nothing. Or sometimes she says too much. Happens all the time."

"Well, she certainly seems to enjoy speaking in chorus class," Jon responded. "She could put that pretty voice of hers to much better use if she just sang with it. But I guess there's no way for me to control what she does..."

"Hard to believe I've been dating her for four years now," said Elliot. "And I guess that I'll be dating her for many more.""Why do you say that, Elliot?"

"I think she wants to get married one day. She thinks she has to have her entire life planned out before she turns seventeen."

Jon couldn't meet his nibling's eye as he said, "I didn't realize the two of you were so serious."

"Serious is not the word I would use!" Elliot exclaimed. "Serious is for...well, serious is not for Peaches and I. There's not a lot of 'serious'. At least, not from me. Since Peaches seems to have forgotten how to smile, though, she might be serious. But about us? No, not serious at all."

"Why not?" Jon asked. "You said it yourself - you've been dating for four years and apparently you're planning to get married!"

"She's planning to get married. I never said yes to that. And just because I've been with her for four years doesn't mean our relationship is serious. Peaches and I are...not normal."

"I just don't understand why you don't feel any need to be serious about this relationship."

"Well, Peaches certainly doesn't, so why should I?"

"I don't think you understand quite how lucky you are, Elliot," Jon said.

"I'm lucky? I'm stuck with Peaches, who doesn't do anything but scowl at me and recite the dictionary when we're together. That's not lucky. What's lucky is being able to be free, actually have a relationship that you care about."

"You..." Jon began. When he realized he didn't know what he was trying to say, he let his voice trail off. He needed to think about how he was going to respond to such a matter. "You think it's simple, but it's not. You're lucky to have her, even if she isn't...she isn't your definition of perfect. And I don't see why you would stay with her for four years if you feel that way...I mean...that's quite a feat."

"God, I'm not saying I don't care about her," Elliot sighed, realizing that their words had been entirely misinterpreted. "I care about her a lot. I wouldn't have dated her for four years if I didn't care about her."

"You do take a lot of pictures of her," Jon said, heaving his shoulders into a shrug in an attempt to diffuse the tension. "I never said you didn't care about her."

What Jon Jasper didn't understand was how he could care so much more than his nibling did. There was no logical reason for it, unless...no, he refused to think in such a manner. This relationship of his nibling's was not meant to be any of his business.

Elliot's face fell into a slight frown before they said, "Yes, pictures where she's always frowning. She never looks happy. It's kind of funny."

"She was smiling in your last shoot."

"I didn't think you'd seen that. And that wasn't even one of my good photo shoots."

Jon hesitated for a moment before he decided he could speak again.

"I thought it was an excellent photo shoot," he said.

"Oh, yeah? And what, exactly, was so excellent about it?" Elliot questioned. In truth, they knew it didn't matter. But their curiosity could not be curbed, no matter what the topic might be.

"There was no specific thing that made it excellent," said Jon, his reply far too hasty for Elliot to take seriously. Nevertheless, they didn't press it any further. "It was just an excellent photo shoot. I hope you continue to make such great photo shoots."

"Only if Peaches keeps agreeing to be in them," Elliot sighed. "People don't like looking at them unless they hear that my girlfriend is in it. Everyone adores Rosa and no one cares about what I have to say. But she likes having pictures taken of her, so I guess I'll just keep going through with that."

"You really think people would only see your photo shoots if she's in it?" Jon asked. "I...I think those photo shoots are wonderful, whether she's in them or not."

"I know people don't look at the photo shoots. I post them online and look at the views. With anything I think is wonderful, I get maybe ten views. Put Peaches in, and suddenly dozens and dozens of views flood in."

"That can't be true," Jon quickly replied, trying his best to cover up any questionable things he might've said before.

"Please, if people loved me half as much as they love Peaches, then I wouldn't have to work another day in my life! I wouldn't have to do a thing, I swear."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that if Peaches killed someone or something crazy like that, people would probably pity her. People love her and I barely know why. I understand that she's pretty and all, but really."

"You really think people care about her that much?" Jon asked. Elliot, so absorbed within their own thoughts, did not notice the intensity of this statement.

"Oh, trust me, I know. It's something you see in all the little things that she does. She moves a certain way and people want to know why. People want to help her no matter what she does. You'd never think she was almost seventeen years old with how people treat her, really..."

As much as Elliot tended to drone on and on, only allowing their uncle to speak every once in a while, both were enjoying their time with one another. It seemed as if these moments of simple conversation were beginning to disappear as Elliot dove more into their schoolwork and Jon into his job.

But the rarity of their conversations made those moments when they did occur all the more special. Jon wouldn't give them up for just about anything - he had been the closest thing Elliot had to a father for the majority of their life. The two, however, could not be described as a father and child in terms of their relationship. Somehow it extended past that.

It was rare that one would set their eyes upon an uncle and nephew or niece and find them bonded so closely. Perhaps, then, it was the fact that Elliot and Jon were uncle and nibling that set them apart from the rest of the world. Elliot rejected the thought of slipping into a single gender to dwell forever, and thus they set themselves off from many others.

And, of course, Jon respected this and did his best to help his nibling in all things. It helped that the two were nearer to father and child than anything else. Jon acted as a near father figure, working as Elliot's guardian. But there was something deeper within their relationship with one another. Due to the strange set of circumstances which managed to pull them together, they were as close as any two kinspeople could be.

But as Jon allowed the drone of Elliot's voice to continue in his ears, he couldn't help but feel as if he was slowly beginning to lose consciousness. Though it was a rather long and drawn out process, only in a sudden moment did he slip and nearly crumple into himself. No, he wasn't falling asleep. This was something far worse.

"Oh my God!" Elliot exclaimed, rushing to their uncle's side. "Your eyes have glazed over!"

"It's nothing!" Jon replied, his words far too rushed to prove such a point. "It's nothing, I promise. I've just...I've been a little sick as of late. I've been taking medication for it, and I suppose I'm just having some unfortunate side effects."

"Then you need to change your medication!" Elliot exclaimed. "Good God, you look...you look horrible. What are you taking medication for, anyways?"

"I'll be fine, Elliot," Jon responded. "Don't worry about it. I will get past it all soon, I promise you. Just...just don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I promise."

"You promise?" Elliot said, furrowing their brow. "You didn't even tell me that you weren't feeling well. I'm not so sure that this medicine of yours is helping, not if you're about to pass out in the middle of a conversation."

"I haven't said anything for several minutes," Jon said, shaking his head. "I suppose the inactivity was getting to me."

"No, you've been talking to me..." Elliot said, allowing their face to turn into a maze of confused creases until they decided not to question the words of their uncle. "Ah, well. I guess if you're not feeling well then I shouldn't stick around and force you to interact. You need rest, Uncle Jon."

"I'll be fine."

"No," Elliot pushed. "No, no, no. Say you'll be fine all you want, but it's clear that you need some time to feel better. Peaches will flip if she finds out anyone other than you is teaching the chorus class - and that's what'll happen if you're sick."

"I promise, Elliot, I'll be fine-"

"I've already made up my mind," Elliot said, cutting him off. "You'll be fine after you've had some rest, and I'm not going to keep you from that. We'll all be thankful when you're feeling better. I'll see you soon, Uncle Jon."

"...goodbye, Elliot."

"Now, I know you're just going to say the same thing because I'm going to say the same thing, but please. Take care of yourself, Uncle Jon. Get yourself some rest. Drink more water, I don't know. Just don't keep messing around and hurting yourself even further. I want to see you get better."

With that, Elliot turned on their heels, all their things gathered up within their arms. It was not a sweet parting by any means, but they had convinced themself that they were doing good for their uncle. Uncle Jon would have a much greater time if he wasn't bogged down by Elliot.

Jon watched his nibling as much as he possibly could - he wanted to make sure he knew when they were gone, and he wanted to know that Elliot was actually leaving. He would never purposefully send Elliot away, but he still felt a wave of relief knowing that his nibling would soon be gone.

As soon as Elliot was gone, Jon buried his face within his hands. It pained him to lie straight to his nibling's face, but there was no around it. After all, it became quite difficult not to lie when one was not certain of the truth themself. This was the precise dilemma that he found himself in.

So much of Jon's life lay within a haze that he could not break through. As if he carried around a patch of personal fog, things were never quite in focus. He could not shine a light through such a thick haze, and therefore he was forced to continue pushing on through his life. He knew he needed to go to the beach, although he could not quite place his finger on why. Nevertheless, he would go. He would have to go.

Knowing any action would be futile, Jon let his instincts take hold and guide him to the beach where he knew he belonged. He barely recalled any of the driving there or his thoughts along the way. He didn't remember any specific address but found himself in front of a specific bar nonetheless.

Even as Jon set his eyes upon the woman behind the bar, he could not quite understand how he'd managed to come all this way. He had a jolt of recognition upon seeing her, and yet he did not quite know why. Yes, he knew her pearly skin and her dark hair, her gaze which somehow could be warm and piercing simultaneously. But the details fuzzed in his mind.

She took a moment to notice he'd stepped into the bar, but when she set his gaze upon him it did not wander away. She knew him as if he were an acquaintance, or perhaps a persistent customer. And yet he did not remember meeting her before. He did not know.

"Didn't think you would come back here again," the woman finally said, raising her brows. "Thought you were swearing off this obsession of yours."

"Obsession of mine? I don't...I don't..."

"No need to defend yourself, dearie," the woman replied, although her tone of voice made it plain that she didn't think of him as a "dearie" at all. "We're all living in a dump in this part of town. Although, I have to admit that opium is rather strange - hard to find these days."

Jon struggled to remember why he came, struggled to remember what opium had to do with it...ah, yes. Of course. He collected it. He collected it, as he collected other things in his past. He adored oddities and as such collected them. Thus he collected opium, though it was no obsession as the woman claimed.

"I just...I just collect it. I hardly know how I got here. Muscle memory, I suppose."

"Collect opium? Never seemed much like you just collected it before. I suppose there is nothing else to say about it. If that's what you want, then that's what you want."

"No, I...I collect it. I know that I collect it, and that's why I am here. I'm here to get more."

"Well, you wouldn't be here to get any less, I would think," the woman replied.

"Then can I have it?" he asked. "I...I can pay. I have money."

"Most people have money, even if it's not enough," she replied. "You'll have to give me a moment, dearie - we all have things to do, and I can't say that your odd requests are at the top of my list."

"Okay. Fine, then," he replied.

But as Jon stood there, he found his anger beginning to overcome him. He closed his eyes for a few moments as if he could simmer down with it. As he opened his eyes, though, he found that everything had only intensified.

"I don't know why you're mocking me," he said, looking over towards the woman as she continued to shuffle through the drawers.

"Mocking you? Of course not, dearie. I'm doing my best to find what you need," she replied, unfazed by this new problem.

"Oh, yes? It sounds to me as if you're trying to mock me for my interests."

"I work in a bar with a bit on the side. I don't have anything to gain by mocking anyone, especially not you," she said, her head buried within a drawer. As she retracted from the drawer, though, she found Jon Jasper's glare focused on her.

"It is obvious that you are mocking me, and you must pay your price from it. And, of course, you still haven't found what I'm looking for." He took a single step closer to the bar separating the two. Such a threat would usually end up cause one to move back in fear, but not this woman. Instead, she kept her ground, not allowing the slightest flinch to enter her body.

The only movement the woman made was a fluid motion as she yanked a knife from a concealed pocket. She positioned herself so that it wasn't clear what she was doing. The only one with a proper view of what was happening was Jon. Without a doubt, this woman knew how to handle her knife.

"I'm not paying any price, dearie," she murmured. "I didn't mock you either. Now, I think it would be best now if you just moved along...I'm certain this will all end better that way."

Jon allowed himself to exhale as she lowered her knife. She would not hurt him, at least not at that moment. It did not matter. That had not been what he feared at the current moment. His main problem was thinking about whether or not he would be forced to leave without what he'd come for to begin with. He hadn't driven down near the beach just to turn away with nothing.

He had turned Elliot away and driven himself into a fog just to find himself leaving the bar without anything more than what he came. But, of course, he didn't seem to be able to get anything more from this woman. She'd already managed to cause problems for him just by refusing to move faster.

"You're not my only customer, you know. I sell a lot more than opium, and as you hardly come here for anything more than alcohol..."

"Then you can count on me not coming back."

"I can't say that's a bad thing, dearie," she replied. She knew that saying such things might end up getting her into a further dilemma. Still, this woman would speak her mind for as long as she possibly could. She managed to survive this far into her life, so she would be able to keep moving for much longer.

She was a gambler, although not just with money or other material things. The woman could gamble her life - and she would always win. The world might have pushed her to the bottom, but that only meant she had little to lose and much to gain.

If only Jon was in the same position. Then, perhaps, he might've pushed forward to get his opium and wouldn't have ended up empty handed even if other things went amiss. However, he'd risked more than enough just by coming there to get opium in the first place. It could not end well.

He gave a final glare over towards the woman and began turning away from her. Jon would leave with his dignity as long as he potentially could. He'd given up enough for the night and thus he would just have to force himself to walk away. There was nothing more to do.

"Goodbye, dearie," she said, giving a slight wave as he exited. He considered turning around to snap at her, but decided against it in the end. She was armed and ready for whatever might come her way.

He emerged from the bar into the chill of evening air, a soft breeze blowing in from the nearby ocean. How many hours had he spent just driving to this place just to be turned away with nothing? Would he spend even more hours attempting to get home while he still shook from anger? He couldn't rid himself of such a sensation, not easily.

Jon, more than anything, wished that his hands weren't quivering. Yes, he was angry, but he also knew he'd just walked away from his only supply of opium. He might never manage to get back to it again. Perhaps that shaking might never cease, even if it slowed down in time.

He peered out in the general direction of the ocean - though he could not see it, he know its waves were present somewhere near. Dark clouds hung over the area, filling the air with a prickling electricity to warn all who would care to pay attention that a storm was coming. It would reach the beachside town very soon, but Jon was leaving the town behind.

He would outrun the storm if he left at that moment. The storm wouldn't reach Cloisterham Academy until dawn.