A Song For You//[Thonny]

Chapter Thirty-Three

The morning passed like a slow, snow-draped painting outside the windows of Colin's house. It was peaceful in a way that felt both calming and unnervingly fragile. Thom had woken early, the cold air in the house chasing him out of his room and down to the kitchen, where Colin was already nursing a cup of coffee.

"Morning," Colin muttered, rubbing his hands together. "You sleep okay?"

"Yeah," Thom lied, pouring himself a cup and avoiding eye contact. He hadn't slept well in months, but he wasn't about to add to the tension already hanging in the air.

The two of them sat in companionable silence for a while, the soft hum of the heater filling the gaps in their conversation. Thom glanced at the clock on the wall, counting the hours until Jonny would be leaving again. Part of him felt relieved; another part was tied in knots. He wanted to be supportive, but the distance Jonny had put between them since returning home made it hard to tell what was the right thing to do.

Colin stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "I'll go check on him," he said, his tone clipped. "See if he's up."

Thom nodded, staying at the table, his coffee growing cold in his hands as Colin headed down the hall.

Colin knocked on the guest room door, the sound firm but not overly loud. "Jonny?" His voice carried a note of impatience, as though he were already bracing for an argument. "Hey, it's getting late. We need to start getting ready soon."

No answer.

Colin sighed heavily, crossing his arms tightly over his chest in the chilly hallway. He knocked again, harder this time. "Jonny, come on. Don't be like this." His voice grew sharper, tinged with the frustration that came so easily when dealing with his brother recently.

Still nothing.

He hesitated, his hand hovering over the doorknob. A flicker of concern crossed his mind, but it was quickly squashed by a more familiar exasperation. "If you want to sulk, fine," he muttered through the door. "Just don't make us late."

Turning away, he headed back to the kitchen, shaking his head as he entered.

"Well?" Thom asked, looking up from his coffee.

Colin waved him off. "He's being moody. Probably doesn't want to go back. I'll deal with him later. Let him stew for a bit."

Thom frowned, his instincts prickling with unease. "Maybe I should—"

"No," Colin cut him off. "Don't. You'll just end up coddling him again, and that's not what he needs. He'll come out when he's ready."

Thom bit his lip, swallowing the urge to argue. Colin was right, in a way. Every time Jonny withdrew, Thom found himself rushing in to comfort him, even when it didn't seem to help. Maybe giving him space was the better option.

But something about it didn't sit right.

Still, he nodded, forcing himself to stay seated as Colin poured another cup of coffee. The two of them resumed their quiet morning routine, the weight of Jonny's silence settling over them like a storm cloud.

The hours crept by, the snow outside growing heavier. Thom kept glancing down the hall, half-expecting Jonny to emerge, bleary-eyed and irritable, but he never came.

By noon, Colin's patience was wearing thin. "He's really pushing it," he muttered, pacing the living room. "We're supposed to leave in a couple of hours."

Thom hesitated, his unease bubbling to the surface. "Maybe he's not feeling well. I should check on him."

Colin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine. If it'll make you feel better, go ahead. But I'm telling you, he's just sulking."