Author’s Note: This story is part of a larger saga. It can be read as a stand-alone, I suppose, but the story makes reference to things that occurred in previous parts. It takes place between two of my other stories, The Eldermoor Chronicles: Book Two and To Look Without Seeing, and is kind of a side-story to the Eldermoor Arc. You should probably read The Eldermoor Chronicles: Book One & Book Two before reading this.

To those of you who have been reading this story, here is the story about Donovan and Niall’s summer, finally. Just to let you know, though, it probably won’t be as happy or uplifting as any of you are hoping. This story actually does have a much deeper point, and I’ll be writing it to reflect that.

Claimer: Though a lot of the characters in this arc are based on real people, they are all my creations. Don’t steal.

Warnings: This story is rated R and it is YAOI, and may contain any of (though not necessarily limited to) the following: male/male situations, adult content, sexual activities between minors, strong language, and self-mutilation. If any of that irks you, run away now.

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Niall watched as the green landscape danced by through the window, made even more grand and beautiful by the height of the slowly descending airplane. They were getting to that height that they could just begin to make out the shapes of cars, though they still looked like small, insubstantial toys. After hours of darkness over hundreds of miles of ocean, the view of the English landscape below Niall was a welcome change. It was a relief to Niall to know that he’d be spending his next month here with his friend, instead of being tortured by the tension within his own family.

The captain made some sort of announcement about making the final descent, but Niall ignored it, having heard it dozens of times he’d taken airplanes. Instead, he kept his eyes trained out the window, glancing over all the cars in makes and models he had never seen outside of European countries. He assumed that it would be an even stranger occurrence once he could see them up close. It was just another hint that he wasn’t in America anymore, and he certainly wasn’t in Los Angeles anymore.

Niall hoped it would be worth the flying time, but to see Donovan again after what seemed like so long would definitely be worth it. He’d spoken to Don on the phone a few times since the end of the school year, though not for long because of long-distance costs, but it just wasn’t the same as actually seeing the other boy, finding out that he was all right. Some part of Niall still doubted it; some part of him still saw the beautiful, dark-haired boy sprawled out across the bathroom floor, covered in blood.

Niall banished the image from his mind quickly. The last thing he wanted was for terrible memories of the previous year to ruin his trip. The last thing he wanted was to bring that up with Don, for he doubted that the other boy wanted to discuss some of the more terrible times in his life.

There was a bump as the wheels of the plane’s landing gear made contact with the ground. Niall was startled; he had become so lost in his thoughts that he had failed to notice how far they had descended. Glancing out the window again, Niall saw that they were on the runway, other taxiing and landing planes in their view, as well as one or two other gates.

Niall sat patiently while the plane taxied to its gate, which seemed to take forever. It never seemed to take as long at LAX, but then again, he was much more familiar with LAX. People were getting restless, as it always seemed they did when airplanes were taxiing; they all wanted to get out after the long trip. It was the same thing that would cause all those people to take off their seatbelts before the fasten seatbelt sign was turned off and stand up to be the first out of the airplane. Niall, himself, never understood the desire to press himself up against a huge group of people to get out of the plane a few minutes more quickly, so he simply sat and watched as all this transpired, his headphones in his ears as he absently observed.

Another thing Niall never did was bring carry-on luggage that was too big to fit under his seat. It took twice as long for the people with obscenely large carry-on luggage to get it out of the overhead bins than it did for everyone who brought more moderate luggage, and Niall did indeed have to wait for one of the people sitting in his row to try to force an overlarge bag out of the compartment, nearly flattening about half a dozen people in the aisle.

After another few minutes, the bulk of the passengers were off the plane or near the front getting off, so Niall finally stood and made his way toward the aisle. His legs were a bit uncomfortable from sitting for so many hours, and it felt good to finally stretch them. He grabbed his bag and made his way toward the front of the airplane, having to dodge one last person getting luggage out of the overhead compartment before walking out of the aircraft after a cheery dismissal from the flight crew.

When Niall finally stepped into the airport, it was like an explosion of sound, all at once. He had heard the sound of the airplane engine almost exclusively for hours, yet now there were tons of voices, announcements over the intercom, and luggage being dragged and rolled in every direction. Niall let his eyes scan the area, looking for Donovan.

“Oi, Niall!” came an excited call, interrupting his search. Niall turned sharply, seeing a tall boy with a familiar mane of long black hair heading in his direction. Don had a wide smile on his face, which was something Niall had always wished he could have seen more of. His face brightened as well as Don reached him, wrapping his arms around the other boy and embracing him tightly, not wanting to let him go after how long it had been since they had seen each other.

After a few long moments, Donovan pulled away, looking down at Niall with a smile still on his face. He looked better than he had the last time Niall had seen him, obviously; he was also a little bit less pale, which he had earlier blamed on the trip his family had taken to the south of France, and his hair was slightly shorter than it had been when he had left. Yet something about his happier disposition seemed to set a glow over all of Don’s body; that was what was most noticeable.

“How was your trip?” Don asked after a moment. Niall smiled.

“Long,” he said, feeling exhausted. “I’m going to be jet lagged for a week.”

Donovan laughed, which was another thing Niall wasn’t particularly used to. It didn’t used to happen as much as he would have liked it to, and before, when Don had laughed, there had often been something hollow to it, something that seemed forced. But this laugh was spontaneous and undeniably real.

Don put a hand on the small of Niall’s back. “Well don’t worry; we’ve got a big comfortable bed waiting at my house for you,” the taller boy promised, his tone slightly teasing. Niall couldn’t help but smile at Donovan’s lighthearted tone, his carefree laughter. Donovan looked at him warily. “What?” he demanded.

Niall just smiled even more widely. “It’s just nice to see you happy, after everything,” Niall admitted.

Donovan returned the smile easily. “It’s nice to be happy,” he said, grinning.

A voice suddenly came from behind Donovan, startling both of the boys. “Well, Donovan, are you going to introduce me to your friend?” said a voice that Niall didn’t recognize. It was deep, flowing, almost elegant in a way Niall was sure only English accents could be—though Don had assured him numerous times that it was merely because of the fact that he was unused to the accents that he thought that way, that English people often thought of Americans as ‘daft,’ as Niall believed the other boy had put it, for obsessing over their accents as they did.

Don’s smile faltered for a brief second—so brief, in fact, that Niall was almost sure he hadn’t seen it at all—before turning in the direction of the voice. A man stood behind him in a suit, looking formal and austere. He had to be easily over six feet tall, with short dark hair that was just slightly thinning and wire-framed glasses rimming dark eyes that looked just like Donovan’s. Don shifted uncomfortably.

“Erm—Niall, I’d like you to meet my father, Richard Cole. Dad, this is Niall Parker.”

Niall shook the other man’s hand formally, mostly because he felt that he was expected to. The older man had this unflappable demeanor to him, that no-nonsense attitude that Niall always felt so wary of. Don’s father looked him up and down, seemingly surveying him, and Niall felt guilty for having worn a pair of plaid pajama pants and a t-shirt onto the plane. Yet that was what had seemed most comfortable, and after over ten hours on a plane, he as very glad that he had. But something about Richard Cole’s gaze was overly critical, and it made him feel very self-conscious for his clothing choice.

“It’s nice to meet you, Niall,” Don’s father said finally. “We’ll just go to retrieve your luggage then.”

Without any preamble, he began walking in what Niall believed had to be the direction of the luggage carousels, and Don motioned for Niall to follow, though the two still remained easily a few meters behind the older man. “I apologize for my father,” Don said quietly to Niall, having to lean over a bit to keep his words from carrying across the distance to his father. “His demeanor can be…a little difficult to get used to.”

Niall waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it,” he excused immediately. “My father, honestly, isn’t much better.”

Nodding absently to himself, Don continued to lead Niall in the direction his father was walking, dodging numerous people who seemed to be hurrying in all different directions. Turning his gaze toward Donovan, Niall spoke again. “So how are things going, really?” he inquired. “Don’t give me any bullshit.”

Don grinned softly at his friend’s added comment. “Well, as I told you on the phone the last couple of times we’ve talked, I’ve been going to therapy. I was very against it at first, but it’s turned out to be quite helpful,” Don confessed. “To my parents as well. You know how they reacted when they first found out that I’m…gay—but we’ve been doing family sessions and they’re beginning to get used to it. It all takes time, I suppose.”

By the time he was done, Niall was grinning widely. Don looked down at his friend, raising an eyebrow. “All right, what has you grinning like a fool?” Donovan demanded, giving the other boy a long-suffering look. Niall shook his head softly.

“Seriously, it’s just nice to hear that you’re doing so well, considering everything that happened,” Niall said, repeating his earlier sentiment. Don smiled, though something about his grin seemed forced—and that was achingly familiar.

“Yeah,” he agreed quickly, glancing over at the luggage carousel. “Look, here comes the luggage. That was quick.”

Their attention quickly turned to searching for Niall’s bags, the conversation from a moment before duly forgotten.

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Niall was shocked when they pulled in front of Donovan’s house later that day. He got out of the car, glancing over at Don, up at the house, then over at Don again. Donovan shook his head, grinning at his friend. “Close your mouth; it’s improper,” he chided, but he was smiling.

Niall looked up at the house again. “You’re house is…Jesus…” he trailed off, apparently at a loss for words. Don patted him on the arm, laughing as his father got out of the car.

“No, my house is not Jesus, you sod,” he said, though his tone was friendly. “It’s actually a nineteenth century Victorian home.” He glanced back at Niall, shaking his head. “Oh, honestly, don’t look at me like that. I know you don’t often find things like this in California, but it’s not terribly uncommon in England. And it’s not as if it’s a mansion or anything like that.”

Niall looked up at the home again. What Donovan had said was true; it most certainly wasn’t a mansion, but the architecture was beautiful—something that looked as if it belonged as some sort of historic site rather than someone’s home. Then again, Niall had gotten that same feeling when he had first arrived at Eldermoor Academy; it was quite old as well, and it looked almost untouchable.

“Come on—let’s help my dad with your bags,” Don instructed, directing Niall’s focus away from the house and toward the trunk of the car, where Don’s father was unloading Niall’s bags. Nodding, Niall followed his friend to where his father was, helping the older man and Don carry his bags toward the front door. Before Don’s father had a chance to get out his keys, the door opened.

Standing in the doorway was a woman with short auburn hair, a kindly face, and wide blue eyes. She held open the door for them, a big smile on her face. “Come in, come in. Those must be heavy,” she said, waving them in. Her accent was a little different than Don’s and his father’s; it didn’t seem quite as thick somehow, and it didn’t come off nearly half as achingly ‘proper.’ Once they had come in and put the bags down, the woman turned to Niall.

“Oh, you must be Niall!” she exclaimed, sounding excited. “You’re just as Donovan described you. I’m Margaret Cole, Donovan’s mother.”

Niall took her hand, too, when she offered it, and shook it. Her handshake was warm but firm, and her comforting smile remained on her face the entire time. It was entirely different than the handshake Niall had shared with Donovan’s father; this one warm and inviting where Richard Cole’s had been cool and almost appraising.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said politely as he shook her hand. She opened her mouth to speak again when a girl who looked to be about eleven or twelve ran into the room. She had dark hair and green eyes, and she looked impatient.

“Are you coming back?” she inquired, hands on her hips. Donovan’s mother smiled benevolently at her.

“In a minute, dear,” she promised, and the girl disappeared around the corner without a word to Don or Niall. The older woman turned back to Niall. “It’s been nice to meet you, but unfortunately, twelve year old girls can be quite high-maintenance.” She winked at Niall. “Make yourself at home. I’m sure Donovan will show you where everything is.”

And with that, she disappeared around the corner after the little girl, Niall still struck by how different Don’s mother and father seemed to be from each other. Niall turned around to look at Don’s father, but when he turned, he found that the older man wasn’t where he had been before. In fact, it didn’t seem that he was in the room at all, and Niall wasn’t sure how he had managed to disappear, barring some sort of secret door he hadn’t discovered yet or sneaky spy techniques. Niall turned back to Don.

“Wow…am I that scary? Everyone seems to have run away.”

Don laughed. “Getting anyone in my family to stay in the same room for more than five minutes together can be a challenge,” he admitted, turning his attention back toward Niall’s bags, though nothing in his voice seemed to indicate his feelings about that matter. “Now come on; I’ll show you to your room.”

Niall nodded, grabbing some of his bags while Don grabbed the others. As Don led him toward a long staircase, Niall spoke again. “So is that little girl…what? Your sister?” Niall inquired as he began lugging his bags up stair after stair. “I didn’t think you had any siblings.”

Don shot Niall a benevolent smile over his shoulder, one that reminded Niall strangely of Don’s mother all of a sudden. It was still odd to realize that he had finally met Don’s family, albeit very briefly, and was actually staying in Donovan’s home in England. In fact, part of him was still amazed that Donovan wasn’t dead, after the last time he had seen the boy.

“No, she’s Kevin’s sister,” Don explained as he stopped for a second on the stairs, breathing heavily under the weight of Niall’s bags. “You remember me telling you about my friend Kevin, don’t you? He lives right down the way. His sister was baking cookies with my mum when my dad and I left to pick you up. She’s probably afraid she’ll burn them or some such thing.”

Niall nodded as they began progressing up the stairs once again. “Do I get to meet Kevin?” he inquired, part of him very interested in the idea of meeting someone who had known Don for so long and so well, and admittedly the only guy that Don had ever done anything with, be it only a kiss. Niall found himself extremely transfixed by the side of Don he was seeing at the other boy’s home; something about it seemed different than the Don he knew at Eldermoor Academy, but he couldn’t put his finger on it, other than the fact that Don actually seemed happy—and that was something Niall had seen so rarely in the past.