🕯️ I Like Me Better 🕯️

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Jon's reading a book on the sofa

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Jon's reading a book on the sofa. Something he wouldn't usually do, but it is an autobiography and he's getting inspiration to write his own. The soft melody of the radio in the background is keeping him company as he reads. There is an acknowledged peace in the room, and he's actually enjoying this time alone. He needs to keep himself busy anyway, Russell is out at work and won't be home for at least a few hours. A meeting with his agent, Jon remembers Russell saying.

Suddenly the bright light of the lamp next to him flashes off, and he's plunged into total darkness. Not even the moon can pierce through the clouds, the pitch black aura of the night mirrored inside the flat. Jon throws his book down in shock when he notices that he can't read it anymore - something he would have realised if he was thinking rationally, but his overpowering fear of the dark is consuming him.

His breathing increases in speed as he slides off of the sofa and sits on the floor, curling in on himself. He knows he's behaving like a child, but he doesn't care. He only feels terror in his veins as his eyes dart around the room in an erratic attempt to see something, anything to calm his nerves. But he can't see anything. It's as if he's gone blind.

He knows he's overreacting when he begins to sob into his hands.

"Help me." Jon whispers to himself. And, okay, he knows that's a little dramatic and he's fully aware that blubbering like a toddler isn't going to help him; but that doesn't matter, really.

He hears a soft click over his pathetic cries, and his mind instantly assumes somebody is breaking in. He launches himself onto his feet, waving his arms around frantically in the darkness.

"Hello? Who's there?" He calls, ignoring how his voice trembles and his chin wobbles in his fear. He barely makes out a black figure in the even darker blackness of the room. The person doesn't answer.

"P-please don't hurt me!" Jon squeals as the figure moves closer. He cowers and folds in on himself, wrapping his arms defensively around himself and clenching his eyes shut - which, to be honest, isn't any different to when he had them open.

Jon feels an unexpected hand on his shoulder, and he automatically lashes out; he whimpers as he hits the mystery person in the chest.

"Jon, you dick, it's me!" The figure speaks. Jon instantly relaxes, throwing himself into his boyfriend's arms and grabbing him tight.

"Russell. I-it's S-So dark!" Jon stutters, sobbing once more into Russell's shoulder. The taller man sighs and rubs Jon's back in reassuring circles.

"Shhh.... It's alright, my little Care Bear." Russell soothes as he seats them both on their small couch. Jon still flinches as his backside collides with the soft fabric, any small movement making him jumpy and scared. Russell senses this and flicks a lighter from his pocket, a gentle flame creating an aura of warm light.

Jon opens his eyes as the golden flickers of the flame invade the darkness. His heart warms slightly as Russell lights a candle on the coffee table. It's cherry scented.

Jon Richardson x Russell Howard OneshotsWhere stories live. Discover now