Jonathan loved books.

Maybe it was because his mother had been a literature professor and he grew up listening to her read all kinds of literary forms before bedtime, he didn't really understand what Shakespere's Hamilton was all about that time but he loved hearing his mother's somber tone that would lull him to sleep.

It wasn't all that surprising that he ended up working in a bookshop, of all places.He knew he was too sarcastic and rude-looking for this place but it paid alright and the owner was an old lady who didn't know him as Lysander's son. Add the fact that it would be something that would keep him busy since Mrs. Stone or as she repeatedly corrected him, Dorothy, allowed him to read any kind of book and take one off the shelf once, every month.

It seemed like a pretty good job for him.

"...Hey, do you have any books regarding guns around here?"

Jonathan looked up from his copy of Dante's Inferno, The blonde took a good look at the boy's appearance, he sported a black baseball cap with a hoodie despite the hot weather and a pair of thick-rimmed eyeglasses.That seemed like a new thing to ask at a bookstore. Why would he need a book about weaponry? School research, perhaps?

"Aisle ten, you'll find a history about-"

"No," the teen cut him off, "Guns like in present times."

Jonathan raised a brow, the teen started to look nervous and the older man noticed the way his jaw clenched, "Aisle ten, further the shelf, you'll find what you're looking for." he shrugged, returning his attention to his book. The weird teenager immediately paced towards aisle ten, leaving the brit to his own thoughts.

'Americans' Jonathan muttered, shaking his head. Moments later, the same weird teenager bolted out the door. He had to check if the kid had taken anything from the shelf.

Luckily, he didn't.

                             The next day, Jonathan was on his way to work. The morning paper in hand and a lolly between his teeth, as he shut the door to his apartment, he heard the soft voice of a woman. The blonde turned to find the same woman he saw a few days ago, she seemed to be arguing with someone on the phone.

"...tell Blanchett he can fuck off and do it himself." she growled, hands on her hips and soft brown eyes ready to kill. He knew that he shouldn't stop and stare at her but he did and she noticed.

Boy, that didn't make her happy at all.

She brushed him off and headed back to her own room, banging the door as if it was a message that he, like that poor Blanchett, can fuck off too.

Later that day, as he was about to finish his book, the same kid from yesterday had returned to the store. This time, he went straight back to the section that he asked about yesterday. After a while, he'd walk out again, ignoring Jonathan.

He'd check the book again to find it still there, untouched.

That sort of became a little routine for the next few days that Jonathan just had to place the book on the counter and that if the kid came in the usual time, he'd just hand him the book, much to the american boy's surprise.

"I don't need your piety." the boy spat out as he grabbed the book, making Jonathan cock his brow up in amusement.

"Wasn't giving you any, boy." he sniggered, "Take it, you're going to destroy the book since you've been opening and closing it a lot these past few days."

The boy stared at the book then at him and chunked it right back at him, "I don't need it, old man." he frowned, walking out right after.

"Old man? The little nutter." Jonathan muttered underneath his breath as he watched the young man walk in the opposite direction. He still placed the book underneath the counter though, he had a feeling the kid would come back tomorrow.

Jonathan closed up shop and decided to buy some groceries for dinner, he knew Heather would be home late tonight so he might as well cook the lady some supper. As he tried to reach for the door though, someone beat him to it.

"Good evening, Jon." The beautiful Mexican grinned.

"Andrea," He paused to find the same girl living next to him behind the friendly landlady, "and ma'am." he awkwardly greeted.

"Oh this is Francis, she's my roommate and your neighbor.Francis, this is Jonathan, our new neighbor." Andrea introduced the pair to each other, her eyes were still steel and cold as if she didn't exude a single ounce of care at all.

"Pleasure, Francis." He reached out his hand and boy, did this woman know how to give a good firm grip.

Andrea giggled, not noticing the tension between the two as she opened the door for them. Jonathan recalled the phone call in the hallway, "By the way, Francis is a detective. She may look scary but she's super nice." Andrea whispered.

A detective? No wonder.

He stayed behind the pair and half-listened to Andrea's babbles, his focus was still on his mysterious neighbor that looked like she could judo flip him in a bat of an eye. Maybe this Francis girl knew who he was, that's why she was off-putting towards him.

Detectives and policemen never did like him.

Thank god they reached their apartments, he didn't want to spend another minute with the intimidating detective that seemed to be facially interrogating him.

"Night Jon!" Andrea waved.

Francis ignored him, per usual.

Later that evening, Jonathan laid the pasta and bread in front of Heather, "Our neighbor's a detective." Jonathan recounted, twirling the pasta on the fork.

"You mean Francis?"

"You know her?"

"My shifts at night remember? I usually bump into her in the morning." Heather replied, rolling her eyes as if it was obvious, "You scared of cops or something? You hiding your stash-"

Jonathan frowned at her statement and stabbed the tomato with his fork, "and for your information, I was just going to say how she looks like she wants to put a bullet through my head."

"It's her job to look intimidating, she deals with thugs and catches criminals. It's not an easy job for a woman." Heather nonchalantly stated, placing her fork down, "Don't worry, it's her normal face. She holds nothin' against you."

Jonathan wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, he really did.

                                      The next morning, Jonathan sat alone in the counter as he shoved some waffles in his mouth. It was another boring day at work, he paused in thought, maybe the kid would swing by again today.

That'll give him some entertainment.

Later on, his theory was confirmed. The kid swung by again, "I told you to take..." he paused, noticing the bruise marks on the kids face, "Bloody hell, what happened to your face?"

"None of yer business-"

"It damn right isn't, kid, but I'm not letting you collapse on my shift right outside, what the fuck happened to you?" He cut him off, placing the book down.

"Just some idiots."

"You don't wanna call the principal on that?"

"Like that's ever going to work" the boy snorted in reply.

Jonathan felt stupid for saying that, of course it wouldn't work. That had happened to him before and the adults didn't even believe what he said.

"You pityin' me now, old man?"

Yes.

"Take the book and get this," he ignored his statement and just handed him the sandwich with the band aid and little ointment from the first aid kit, the boy stared at the book and the small gift then at him, "You take it or I'm calling the cops that you've been assaulted. I live right next to one."

Gee, way to be an adult, Jonathan.

The kid immediately took the food and the book.

"S-stop meddlin' old man."

"Jonathan."

"What?"

"The name's Jonathan, you little nutter. Not old man, I'm not even over 30 yet."

"Greg, not nutter. Whatever the fuck that means." Greg rebuked, shoving the things in his backpack and slinging it back to his back. As the teenage boy was about to leave, Jonathan called him out.

"You're a bad liar, Greg."

"So are you, Mr. Jonathan."

Well, what did you know? The kid had some manners after all.

Greg sort of came by almost everyday after that, he'd still call Jonathan an old man of course but he was a Mr.Jonathan now since he seemed to have earned the boys respect and Jonathan would call him a nutter (still) and give him the extra sandwich that he made in the morning.

Jonathan even had the boys number saved on his phone to keep an eye on him and he didn't expect a call from him so soon, especially so early at the morning.

"Greg?" Jonath grumbled, slowly rubbing his eyes to keep him awake, "What the hell, kid?"

"I-I..." he muttered, "I just found her there, Mr.Jonathan."

"Found who?"

"My mom..." Greg swallowed,eating up his words "Dead, in the tub."

footnotes:

finally updated, hope you guys are alright. Anyways I'm updating the story once a week and I will be releasing a chat story around next month so stay tuned (super excited btw)