This is a boylove-style adaptation of Charlotte Brontë's classic coming of age novel, Jane Eyre. It was originally published in 1847.
This version will turn Jane into a gay man and leaves behind the period time and setting.
all photos and artworks...
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He sat up and sucked his chest full of air. Air had a bad dream, one where a river of fire flowed across a ceiling. A nightmare where flames rolled up the walls and curled blistered wallpaper into black ashes. Cologne bottles boiled and exploded. A dream where his eyes stung and his lungs were scorched.
The images in his slumber were perceived as real, every inch of Air's body felt as if it had been poached.
All at once, Air's skin crawled with goosebumps. He shivered. He thought back to the hours after the fire. Chess held him close and they leaned back against a tree, in the shade of the morning sun. Fair had given them a cool sheet and after he was covered, Air started to fall asleep. He could still feel Chester's breath on his ear and hear what he said.
Air's back was on Chess. He used him as a full-body pillow. Chess's left hand was spread open and on Air's chest, his right was outside the sheet, he stroked Air's singed hair. The things he uttered were whispered: "I am in your debt, young one, and I will take care of you as long as I live."
He shivered again and when he stretched, he realized that he was hurt. Air's back ached and his ribs stung the way they did two weeks ago from Pool's punches.
The soles of his feet hurt when they touched the wooden floor. Air had an oversized shirt buttoned over his birthday suit. He didn't have to ask Fair where it came from, he remembered seeing Fair take it from Chess's closet. It was still at Air's house weeks later; he couldn't explain why he hadn't returned it.
Air looked at himself in the mirror. He thought it was funny how big the shirt's neckline was. The shoulder seams were halfway down his upper arm. The tails that would normally be tucked into Chester's jeans, floated at Air's thighs.
Air took a towel and went to the shower.
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...
He tiptoed down the stairs. Not because he was afraid Pool would be there or that he would be waking anyone, but because everything, everywhere was so silent.
