Chapter Text
Jon had a bad feeling when he woke up. He didn’t know why exactly but something felt wrong. “Martin,” he hissed.
Martin opened his eyes. “What?” He blinked at Jon slowly. “Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know.” He worriedly sat up, pulling the covers around him. “Something feels… ominous. And I can’t place it.”
The two nervously got dressed and headed downstairs, Jon somewhat more adept at using his crutches than before, but at the bottom he suddenly stopped causing Martin to crash into him. Martin felt a surge of panic and protectively pulled Jon close to him, preparing himself to defend him from whatever had him now hyperventilating and shaky. “Jon, what is it?!”
Jon raised a shaky hand and pointed towards the opposite wall. “Martin… look.” There, sitting innocently against the wall in brightly colored packages, were presents.
Martin was confused for a few seconds. “It’s not Christmas…”
“No.” Jon shook his head, his voice sounding like he’d just been given a death sentence. “It’s my eighth birthday.”
…
Martin and Jon sat on his bed, Martin trying to comfort his terrified boyfriend. “Jon, it’s okay. Just because you’re eight now doesn’t mean you’re doomed. Remember - you aren’t running away anymore so your grandma isn’t buying you so many books. We might have changed the timeline so it never happens.”
“Maybe.” Jon wrapped a plush throw around himself and stared miserably down at the plush cat he’d unwrapped earlier this morning. His grandmother had been concerned at how unexcited he’d been about his birthday but it was hard to get excited when he felt his time running out. This was the year. The year his bully got eaten and he got traumatized. He didn’t feel much like celebrating.
The doorbell rang downstairs and Jon jumped. “Easy, it’s okay Jon.” Martin laughed softly, his tone sympathetic, and wrapped his arms around him. “It’s probably just the post.”
Jon buried his face in his chest. “Maybe.” He didn’t sound convinced.
A few minutes later his grandmother came up the stairs and knocked on the door. “Boys, may I come in?”
“Sure.” Martin brushed some hair out of Jon’s face to make him look more presentable and less ‘just spent the last half hour having a mental breakdown’ and the two sat and watched as Jon’s grandmother entered.
“Jon, you just had a little friend drop off a present for you. Isn’t that sweet? It’s too bad she couldn’t stay but she wanted me to tell you she said hi.” She handed over a brightly colored bag with images of balloons on it.
Martin turned to Jon, smiling teasingly. “So you do have other friends! I didn’t know that.”
Jon felt his heart sink. “Grandma… did she give a name?”
His grandma smiled. “She did but I can’t quite remember… Annie, maybe? Anna?”
Jon’s blood turned to ice. “... Annabelle?”
“Oh, yes. That sounds right! Cute little girl, looked about nine, was wearing a rather old-fashioned dress, if any of that sounds familiar.”
It did. It sounded all too familiar and as his grandmother handed over the gift bag he didn’t have to push aside the brightly colored tissue paper to know what it contained.