Where the light shines

He never told them how the boy pointed out the small cracks in their ceiling and walls and made up stories about vines crawling out of them. He never told them how he held his hand and let him trace his callouses and scars when he rambles on senselessly. He never told them how Jack liked to appear tough but would curl up to his side the moment they would settle outside in the fire escape. He never told them how he, himself, felt whenever he would see him.