In The Eye of the Beholder | Jonathan Crane

Introduction

Everyday here you come walkin'

I hold my tongue I don't do much talkin'

-Sad Eyes (Bruce Springsteen)

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That boy walked by my house every day after school. His dark brown hair hung limply around his face. It desperately needed cutting. Every so often I'd get a glimpse of piercing blue eyes. They weren't eyes that someone would necessarily find nice to look into. Actually, they weren't nice eyes to look in at all. They were cold and calculating. They were eyes you would see on an older, hardened person. Not on a twelve-year-old boy. They were eyes you would see on someone who cared about no one. They shouldn't have been the eyes on a twelve-year-old boy.

I think those eyes are what drew me to him. Those hard and icy eyes. Those haunted eyes.

Every day I'd want to stop watching him walk by from my window and instead go out to talk to him. I never did. I continued to watch him walk by. At school, it was the same way. He'd walk by, and I'd watch him walk alone. He always was alone.

Unless he was being harassed by bullies.

But even when he was being harassed, I said nothing. I did nothing. I watched him get hurt. I don't know why I always stood by. Maybe because it was all I was good at. Being quiet and watchful.

That was, without a doubt, the first mistake I made with the boy known as Jonathan Crane.

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A/N: So I'm finally back with a new story. I'm kind of nervous to put this up, but here I go. I apologize for the short beginning. I'm hoping to have a new chapter up every week, if not more. Anyway, have a wonderful day lovelies!