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Arnie's mom was always telling him he was brave. Whenever he came to wake her up because he was afraid of the dark, or thought he saw a spider, she would always smile softly, and boop his nose, and repeat that he was the bravest little boy she knew, because each time he had had the strength to face these fears just long enough to go ask for help. Arnie hadn't been sure about why that made him brave, but he hadn't really questioned it either.
As he was sobbing, curled up on a bed that wasn't his own, he wished he had asked her to explain it. He wished she could tell him again how brave he was, even if it was false, because he certainly didn't feel courageous at all when she wasn't here.
He missed his mom. They- They told him he wouldn't see her again. They told him she was-
A louder sob broke from his chest, and he didn't feel like he would ever be okay again. His lungs were burning, and his eyes too, and his mom- his mom- he wanted her back. He didn't want to be there without her, where it was dark, and- and smelly, and full of other kids that he didn't know, and it probably had spiders too, and- and-
"Are you okay?" someone whispered loudly from behind him. Startled, Arnie breathed in with a gasp, before trying to curl up even more. He didn't want to talk.
He heard rustling sheets, and quiet steps in his direction, and if he could breathe right, Arnie would have told whoever that was that he didn't want anyone here. He had never slept in the same room as so many kids, and he didn't want to be there, he wanted to go back home, with mom, and she- she would know what to do, she always did, she couldn’t-
"Hey," the voice whispered again - though, given the volume, it could hardly be called a whisper. "You should breathe I think."
"Sh- Sh- Shut up," Arnie stuttered painfully, tears rolling down his cheeks. Mom wouldn't be happy with him for being mean, but he wanted to be left alone.
The voice listened to him. For a minute, approximately, but he didn't hear any steps going away from him on the creaking floorboards, so he wasn't exactly surprised to hear it talk again.
"I would call an adult, but they don't like being woken up during the night," it said - he said, because Arnie was pretty sure it was another boy like him. "Trust me, it's better when they don't come."
Arnie didn't answer. He didn't want to. He also didn't want any adult anyway, because he had met the matrons today, and he already hated them. They looked mean, they didn't smile, they were... They were not mom. Not even close.
"You're the new kid right?" the other boy asked, apparently unable to bear being silent for more than thirty seconds. "Most new kids are really sad, so- I mean- yeah," he concluded awkwardly. "Why are you sad?"
"I- I-" Arnie's teeth were chattering. Sometimes, when he got really scared, he would start stuttering, but it had never been as bad as it was right now. "I m- miss my- my- my mom."
"Oh." A beat, and then a tiny hand touched his shoulder from behind, patting it clumsily in an obvious attempt at being comforting. "I'm sorry. Do you... Do you want me to go?"
Arnie sniffled, tears still flowing on his cheeks. He... He didn't know. He didn't know anything right now, except that he wanted his mom, and she wasn't here. She wouldn't- she wouldn't- He was breathing hard again when he answers with a quiet "no", and he wondered if he was heard at all, if the boy would leave him too just because he had been mean and was too noisy and scared and-
"Okay, I won't go." Arnie felt the bed dip a little, as if a new weight was on it. "I'll stay here, alright?"
Arnwaldo nodded. He didn't want to be alone anymore. He knew there were a lot of other kids in this very room, all trying to sleep, but- but he felt very lonely anyway on his tiny and unfamiliar bed. At least, until the other boy came to check on him. The next minutes were spent crying more, because mom still wasn't here, but now there was a hand who kindly rested on his arm, and it... He felt better, a little bit. Not much.
"I'm... Arnwaldo- Arnie," he whispered hoarsely, thinking about the way mom always told him he had to make proper introductions when he met new people.
"I'm Eugene," the voice - Eugene whispered back, still a little too loud. "Nice to meet you Arnie," he enunciated formally, as if he had learnt the greeting by heart.
Arnie breathed in deeply, and finally turned over towards Eugene. Despite the relative darkness, he could clearly see Eugene's messy and fluffy brown hair as he peered down at him curiously.
"Do you feel better?"
"No," Arnie answered harshly. He was exhausted. He could feel his tears slowing down, not because he wanted them to, but because he didn't have the energy to keep them going but- but he would never be fine again. Never. "My- my mom-"
Eugene grimaced, his eyes full of pity, before he evaded his gaze and looked down on his lap. "I'm sorry your mom left."
It sounded wrong, somehow. It took a few minutes for Arnie's tired brain to get it, to understand that Eugene didn't know about- he thought mom left him because she wanted to. Eugene thought he was crying because he had been abandoned by a mean mother, and it was like the energy Arnie thought he didn't have anymore came rushing back with a vengeance, burning brightly in his veins. He straightened up quickly, startling Eugene, fresh tears of frustration already falling from his eyes.
"She's not- She's not- She's dead," he gasped, and he felt like his heart was crumbling all over again, like he was back in the front of his home being unable to enter, with terrifying adults who didn't want to tell him where his mom was.
He had known she was sick. He had known working was hard for her, and he did his best to make her feel better - he tried to clean their home when she wasn't there, and he made cold sandwiches for them both so she didn't have to cook, and he didn't even bother her at night anymore, because he knew she needed sleep more than he might need a hug. He thought... He thought it would be enough. That she would get better, that they could start living normally again, just the two of them, like it has always been. His dad had died before he was born. Mom... mom was his only family. She couldn't die. She just couldn't, because she was too strong, too brave, too kind, and kind people couldn't die, could they? They didn't deserve it.
Mom had told him to go into town this morning. To buy milk, like a big boy. He had been so proud that she trusted him like this.
When he came back, his entire life had changed.
And now he was crying, and Eugene thought that his mom had been mean, but she wasn't and- and he was alone. Arnwaldo Shnitz was alone, and no one in the world cared about him, because the only person who did was dead. Mom was dead. There was a weight pressing on his lungs painfully, and it was worse than everything he had ever experienced - worse than the paralysing fear he felt when he saw a spider, worse than the worry for his mom that had haunted him for months… He felt empty. And he didn't understand, he couldn't, and it hurt-
Arms enveloped him from the side, and he could feel Eugene trying to hug him awkwardly. His hair tickled.
"I'm sorry," he sniffled as Arnie kept shaking. "I didn’t- I'm sorry for your mom. She… She had to love you a lot."
Arnwaldo blubbered affirmatively, crying even harder. Mom had loved him a lot. She had loved everyone a lot, and he- he wanted her back . He wanted to cry and scream and be the most horrible child there was if that meant he could see her again, but he knew- he knew it wouldn't work. Arnie shifted, and hugged Eugene back fully, because he didn't want to be alone, and Eugene was nice, and… His hug wasn't as warm and as comfortable as mom's, but he was trying.
"If you wanna," Eugene said after a while, "I can tell you a story. I know looots of them, and they always make me feel better."
He was still sniffling. Arnie wondered why it sounded like was crying too, but he was too exhausted to say anything. Mom told him stories too. Each night, before sleeping, she tucked him into bed and narrated what she swore to be real stories about her adventures from when she was young - but Arnie wasn't a baby, he knew they had been fake. They would always playfully argue about it, because he just knew mom couldn't have been a pirate, and-
This was the first night of his life mom wouldn't be here for him at bedtime. He gripped Eugene's shoulders tighter, eyes burning again, and nodded silently.
Eugene was still whispering too loudly when he launched himself into his story. It was the tale of a certain Flynnigan Rider, who was about to meet the guy who would become his best friend and partner, Lance Archer. The story was light-hearted, and Eugene seemed to know it by heart. Soon enough, his voice lulled Arnie into an exhausted sleep.