Chapter Text
Smile, an everlasting smile,
A smile can bring you near to me.
Squinting into the sun, Jon leaned back on his elbows against the concrete step behind him, listening vaguely to the back and forth banter between his mates as they ate their sandwiches and intermittently threw crisps at each other.
He tugged at the collar of his white shirt, a sheen of sweat covering the back of his neck where his dark curls trapped the midday heat. He had already rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to the elbows, a transgression at St Martins that would get him an earful from any of the teachers eager enough about their careers to bother pulling him up about it. He wasn’t prepared to care about it now though. He knew it was only a matter of time before someone, probably Pip, started squirting the contents of a water bottle around the terrace, triggering a water fight. This would inevitably result in a detention with Mr Docherty but in the meantime would provide some welcome relief from the humid restriction of their sticky cotton shirts and polyester blazers.
As the conversation around him turned to a forensic analysis of Liverpool’s shock defeat at home last night, Jon zoned out and returned his attention to the fenced off netball courts in front of him. Over on the centre court, Miss Farmer was leading a training session with the upper school girl’s netball team. The girls stood around listening half-heartedly, adjusting their hair and tugging at their bibs as Miss Farmer enthusiastically waved her arms and began demonstrating a pass with an unwilling ‘volunteer’.
Jon wasn’t really watching though. His eyes, as they so often did, drifted towards the familiar auburn hair and creamy skin of Sansa Stark. While the other girls looked bored and restless in the heat, Sansa stood poised and elegant, an attentive expression on her face as she followed the teacher’s demonstration. Jon shifted against the baking hot concrete awkwardly, observing as Sansa and her partner Jeyne Poole perfectly performed the pass to the clear approval of Miss Farmer. Jon couldn’t help the small smile that passed over his lips as he recognised Sansa’s obvious pleasure at the teacher’s praise.
A rude awakening came in the form of a face full of lukewarm water. Instead of Pip as predicted however, his assailant turned out to be Tormund. The hulk of his body blotted out the sunlight for a moment as Jon sat up, spluttering and swearing under his breath.
“You little pervert!” Tormund roared, and then bellowed with laughter as the rest of the lads followed suit and started emptying their water bottles over each other’s heads, pushing and shoving to get away from the deluge.
“I don’t know what you’re on about Tormund, you prick!” Jon huffed as he dodged an errant spray of water from Grenn’s bottle and ran a hand down his face, wiping the water from his eyes.
“No, of course you don’t,” Tormund raised his eyebrows and then stared pointedly at the courts, where the girls were filing out of the gate and making their way towards the terrace on their way to get changed. Jon felt his back straightening automatically as Sansa and Jeyne approached, talking quietly as they started to climb the steps. At that moment, Jeyne was caught in a crossfire of spray between Pip and Grenn and she launched into a tirade as the boys doubled over with laughter and mimicked her indignation.
Jon’s eyes met the pale baby blue of Sansa’s. She blinked a couple of times and looked away before calmly returning his gaze. Jon’s hands felt clammy (must be the heat, he thought) and his tongue suddenly felt heavy and too big for his mouth. He quickly ran a hand through his dripping curls, pushing them back from his forehead as he deliberately ignored the look on Tormund’s face.
“Hi Jon,” Sansa smiled pleasantly (and a little blandly) at him. Jon sometimes had to remind himself that Sansa was aware of his existence, the legacy of living down the street and being a friend of her brother’s. He had spent many hours at the Stark’s house, hanging out with Robb after football practice and playing Xbox with Arya (she usually won, no matter the game). That had been before though.
The pleasant smile hadn’t reached Sansa’s eyes. The look in them was hard and flinty. Jon felt it like a punch to the gut. As she began to turn away Jon found himself scrambling to his feet, desperate to prevent her leaving. He reached out and touched her arm and Sansa startled, before glancing down at the twisted and puckered skin of his hand. Jon quickly removed it and clenched his fist, swallowing around the lump in his throat.
“Er, I’m glad…I mean, I hope…er, how’s Arya? And your family?”
Sansa looked at him coolly.
“Arya’s fine. Arya’s always fine. My family are doing well Jon. As well as can be expected.”
The words hung in the air between them, sharp and pointed, and Jon felt his shoulders sag as if weighted down. Despite the heat of the day, he suddenly felt icy cold. He realised that Sansa was staring at the scar which sliced his brow and ran down his face a little way, mercifully missing his eye. Jon was just forgetting to be conscious of the reminder of his injury as his classmates had become accustomed to it. Now he had to stop himself from raising his hand to cover it.
“Oh, that’s…good,” he said dumbly as Sansa tore her eyes from his face and took a step back, a strange mix of hurt and anger and something he couldn’t place forming her expression. “Sansa, I wanted to…”
“What Jon? What did you want to do? What else could you possibly want to do to me? To us?”
Jon felt as if he’d been slapped, hard. He stood frozen in place, gasping at the sting of Sansa’s questions.
“Hang on a minute Sansa, you know Jon wasn’t driving that car,” Tormund interceded, concern for his friend radiating from his open, honest face.
“He may not have been driving, but he still got in that car with Robb.” She turned back to Jon. “You knew he wasn’t in a fit state to drive. He barely had his licence! You let him drink and then you let him get behind the wheel…”
“I didn’t let him do anything! Sansa, you know what Robb was like. Nothing could have stopped him. I went with him to try to keep him out of trouble. If I could change what happened, I’d do it. I’d do anything.”
Sansa’s eyes dulled with pain.
“Wouldn’t we all, Jon?” She abruptly turned and ran up the remaining steps of the terrace. Jeyne Poole scowled at him briefly before rushing after her friend. Jon watched as she put an arm around Sansa’s shaking shoulders before guiding her away to the PE block.
Jon stood rigid, a buzzing sound in his ears and a tight pain in his chest. Tormund appeared at his side.
“Forget about it, man. She’s just hurting. It’s understandable. But it’s not your fault. She’ll come round. They all will.”
Jon wished he could believe it.