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Mark could hear crying, soft and stuttery, as he walked down the hallway. That, in and of itself, wasn’t that surprising; the Guild, on the whole, was an emotional mess held together with money, duct-tape, and good old-fashioned refusal to talk about their feelings. He eased open a door, prepared for whoever would be waiting for him on the other side.
Kyu didn’t even look up at him. Well, that wasn’t who he’d expected. John, sure, that made sense. The boss, too, he would have expected. But Kyu? It was unusual, but also not something he had time to worry about at the moment.
“Hey, kid.” He dropped himself onto the bed beside them and smiled. “How ya’ doin’?” They didn’t answer, knees pinned to their chest. “Come on, talk to me.”
“Is… is it true, what John said?” Mark stopped. Neither of them had told him what really happened during the emergency plan -- memories too painful to remember, ones they had both tried to bury under instances of tree climbing and baking, supplanting the pain with something more -- but he knew that it was bad. He’d felt John sob into his chest, stuttering vague words about vines and God and regrets, but that wasn’t important. “And Nathaniel… he told me… he told me I’m…”
Mark looked at them for a moment before setting a hand on their head. “No, no, no, of course not.” They blinked.
“Everyone says it, they have to know. Why… why does God…” They collapsed onto his lap. “Why does God hate me? What did I do wrong?”
“Is that what they told you?” He let a hand drift through their hair. “Because ya’ know, John is wrong a lot. Why would he know what God wants?” He leaned down over them, sliding his arm under them to prop them up in his lap, his other hand still tangled through their hair. “You’re a good kid, Kyu, and a good person. It’s going to be okay, and if John, or Hawthorne, or anyone else, tells you otherwise, I’ll kick them.” He let them lean back against him. They shifted and buried their face in his shoulder, tears soaking his open shirt. Oh, well. Wasn’t like he was using that shirt anyway. “Woah, woah, woah, it’s okay, kid.”
“You don’t… you don’t know that.” He laughed.
“Nah, I do. Trust me, I’ve decided, and no one gets to argue. John’s an idiot, Hawthorne is, well, he’s Hawthorne, and last week he told me that Huck and Tom were demons, which you would think I, of all people, would know, and I know he’s full of baloney, so don’t listen to him.” He propped them up against him, arms shifting down to their lower back as he pulled them tighter against him. “So clearly he can’t be trusted either, which means that the trustworthy one here is me, and I say God loves you, and, even if he doesn’t, who cares what he thinks anyway? I love you, no matter what anyone else thinks.” Their breathing hitched, and he gulped. Had he messed up? He wasn’t trying to make things worse, but maybe he had. But he was Mark Twain, disaster adult extraordinaire, so all he could do was try.
Kyu was still crying, hot and faster, but something about it was noticeably different. “You good, kiddo?”
“I… I don’t know. Why are… are you so nice… why are you so nice to me?” Oh. Oh dear.
“Because I want to be? Because you’re good and you deserve it? Because it’s way too much work to be mean to you, and being mean makes me sad?” They grabbed the back of his shirt, tears still coming. “You haven’t done anything wrong. Bad things happen to you because bad things happen to everyone. None of that is your fault. People do bad things sometimes, and that doesn’t mean you deserve to be treated that way. You’re good, Kyu. Trust me.”
He ran a hand up and down their back, slow and steady, just letting them cry into him. Finally, their breathing shifted from shallow and gasping to a deeper, more rhythmic pattern.
“Thank you…” Their voice was soft, still trembling. He tightened his arms around them for a moment before pulling back. They sat up and looked at him. “Thank you, Mr. Twain.”
“Aw, come on, I’m your friend, not your third-grade teacher. My name is Mark.”
“Thank you, Mr. Mark.”
“I told you. Mark.”
“Thank you, Mark.” He pulled them in for another hug.
“You’re welcome, Kyu.” They hugged him back for a moment before jumping down from his lap. “Now, don’t you have a priest to bother? Because, just between you and me, I hear he hates it when people ask him about the flying spaghetti monster.” They nodded and darted out the door, pausing only to shoot him a smile on their way out.