I am 15 chapters ahead on my patreón, check it out if you are interested.
https://www.patréon.com/emperordragon
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Chapter 19: Midnight Talks
The house was silent, the world outside blanketed in darkness. Moonlight streamed faintly through his bedroom window, casting soft shadows on the walls.
Jon lay flat on his back, eyes wide open, completely awake.
He should have been exhausted—his first football game had been intense, every second a rush of adrenaline. But his mind was still buzzing.
The roar of the crowd, the electrifying tension, the sheer thrill of his final play… it all played on repeat in his head.
"No way I'm falling asleep like this."
He sighed, shifting into a sitting position.
At his side, Ghost stirred from his cozy little spot on the bed. The fluffy orange kitten blinked sleepily, then let out a tiny mew before climbing up Jon's arm onto his shoulder.
Jon chuckled, scratching behind Ghost's ears.
"You're getting way too comfortable with this shoulder thing."
Ghost just rubbed his tiny face against Jon's cheek, purring like a miniature chainsaw.
Jon shook his head, amused. "Alright, I get it. You're clingy at night.'
He glanced at the time. 11:57 PM.
"I'm getting some milk. You want some?"
Ghost responded by licking Jon's face.
Jon smirked. "I'll take that as a yes."
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Jon moved silently through the darkened house, making sure not to wake anyone.
Ghost perched on his shoulder like a tiny orange pirate captain, its claws gripping his shirt for balance.
Reaching the kitchen, Jon set Ghost down on the counter and grabbed the milk from the fridge. He took out a small plate for Ghost before heating up milk for the two of them.
The microwave hummed softly.
Then, Jon heard footsteps approaching.
A moment later, Jay stepped into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.
He blinked at Jon.
Jay: "You too?"
Jon just nodded.
Jay sighed and grabbed a chair, sinking into it. "I remember my first football win. Couldn't sleep that night either."
Jon raised an eyebrow.
Jon: "You played?"
Jay scoffed. "Of course. Back in my day, I was a damn good linebacker."
Jon smirked. "Back in your day? What, before helmets had facemasks?"
Jay glared. "Do you want me to drink your milk?"
Jon chuckled and pulled out the warmed-up milk, pouring it into two glasses and a small plate. He slid one over to Jay and placed Ghost's plate in front of the kitten.
Ghost immediately started lapping up the milk, his little tail flicking happily.
For a few moments, the three of them sat in comfortable silence, sipping their drinks.
Then Jon spoke.
"Why did you take me in?"
Jay looked up, surprised. "What do you mean?"
Jon sighed, swirling his glass. "You don't seem like the kind of guy who just… lets a stranger live in his house. Even if that stranger is your friend's grandson."
Jay was quiet for a moment, tapping his fingers against his glass. Then he sighed.
"Your grandfather called me from the hospital a few days before he passed."
Jon's grip tightened on the glass.
"Richard told me to look after you."
Jon felt his throat tighten. His grandfather… even while in the hospital… had been thinking about him.
A lump formed in his chest.
Before he could stop it, a single tear rolled down his cheek.
Jay noticed, but he didn't say anything.
Instead, he just patted Jon's back. "He was a good man, Jon."
Jon nodded, blinking rapidly. "Yeah… he was."
For a while, they sat there, the silence no longer empty but filled with understanding.
Ghost, having finished his milk, curled up next to Jon's arm, purring softly.
Jay finally spoke again, voice gruff but gentle.
"You're not alone, kid. You've got people now."
Jon swallowed the lump in his throat and gave a small nod. "Thanks, Jay."
Jay just grunted, finishing his milk.
"Alright, go to bed before I start getting sentimental."
Jon chuckled, wiping his face. "Yeah, yeah. Goodnight, old man."
Jay scoffed. "Watch it, kid."
Jon picked up Ghost and started heading upstairs, his heart a little lighter.
Tonight, a sense of peace washed over him. The loss of his grandfather wasn't gone—he wasn't pretending it was—but it was... quieter. Less of a weight. Like a bruise that was healing, just a little. He could feel his grandfather's memory there, but it didn't feel like it was suffocating him anymore.
He could still hear the old man's voice in his head, telling him he'd always been proud, but it wasn't a sharp ache in his chest. It was a warm, almost comfortable feeling, like the kind you get when you look through old photo albums and smile more than you mourn.