lost in translation : : CYN OR ASHLEY :)

[Deleted]

He officially felt like a wanker. Jonah had given half-ass directions back in London, expecting that finding one's way around couldn't possibly be that hard. The fact was, though, that it was. It was impossibly hard. Jonah didn't even have a map on him. Why didn't he buy a map back at the airport? He had been with Weston then. He wasn't even sure how he managed to lose him. One minute, he was going through security and looking for baggage claim, and the next, he looked up and his lover was gone. And of course there was no juice left in his battery. Because he had failed to charge it during the layover. He was too busy enjoying the time alone without having to worry about West's parents barging in. In particular, Robert hated him. The reason was very simple. He was twenty four dating a seventeen year old. Well, if anything was to be said from this experience, it was that he wasn't much more mature than a seventeen year old. Though, that probably wouldn't do much in his defense.

So, with no way of calling his boyfriend, Jonah had collected his luggage and searched the airport for him, even asking security to page him to no avail. With a sigh, he flagged down a cab. But, then he realized that his wallet was gone. He searched his pockets, searched the ground, even ran back to security and asked if they had seen it. Nothing. He now had no money. With a sigh, he was reduced to begging for some bus money, which had been granted him. As soon as he pocketed the change, a man had walked up to him asking if he needed help with his things. As he was explaining that he needed to find the bus, the nearest bus stop was pointed out to him. As he turned his head to look, though, the man had grabbed his suitcase and ran with it. He yelled after him, but it didn't do any good. He had no way to contact the authorities, either.

He did manage to get a bus pass and hold onto it, but the more he tried to find the street that he knew the house was on, the more he got lost. By the time evening fell, he had taken six buses and had no idea where he was. He had gotten instructions from drivers but found them impossible to follow. He was exhausted and had a long day. As he wandered the street he was on, which he didn't even know the name of, all he could do was wonder when the day would end. "Welcome to bloody Toronto," he muttered. He wasn't regretting his decision to leave his home in England, but he did wish he had stuck better to Weston. He sat at a bench at a bus stop, running his hand through his hair. Maybe he should ask directions one more time. Someone had to be able to help, right? He hoped so. So, he stood and approached the very next person he saw. "Excuse me. I'm terribly sorry, but I'm afraid I'm a bit lost. Do you think you can help?" he gave as charming of a smile as he could, as tired as he was, in hopes they would take pity on him.