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There was a tense, heavy air between the three of them now. No one knew what to say - no one knew what to do.
...Ren had experienced grief before. Nora had experienced grief before. It didn’t make this hurt any less. If anything, it hurt even more. The moment they were given a room at Shade Academy to regroup, Nora immediately buried herself under the blankets of the bed and didn’t move. Ren would make sure she ate and laid down with her as well, letting her cry into his shoulder while he let his emotions out silently. They grieved together - just like how they did when Pyrrha died.
(Except they were missing a person this time. Except they were missing the person who had managed to pull them all together in the first place.)
They had experienced grief before. They knew what it felt like.
It still hurt like a stab to the chest and to the stomach at the same time, burning and hurting badly to the point where sometimes it was hard to breathe. It left them immobile for some time, needing that time to process what happened before getting back on their feet because their world wouldn’t give them enough time to. They had to speed through the process, moving forward but moving on much less slowly.
Moving forward, but never forgetting.
...Ren hadn’t heard from Oscar in their few days at Shade.
In fact, he had barely seen the boy.
When Ren would lay down with Nora and hold her to his chest - when the weight was too heavy for words - he would always take a glance to the other side of the room at an empty bed.
That empty bed was supposed to hold a fourteen year old farm boy who no longer had the stars of innocence and youth behind his eyes.
It didn’t.
Ren’s chest would always squeeze painfully when he heard small, quiet and muffled sniffles in the middle of the night from a small ball of blankets from the other side of the room. When Ren woke up in the morning, the ball of blankets was gone, and when Ren laid down to sleep late at night, Oscar would trudge in silently, and climb into his bed. There was no exchange between them - in fact, Ren hadn’t talked to the boy since they arrived in Shade, and neither had Nora.
Ren had attempted to see how Oscar was feeling before, but could barely see any petals through the blankets Oscar covered himself in at night. He could only see flecks of deep, dark blue - the color that Ren had seen floating around Nora and himself.
...Oscar hadn’t said anything to them. It had been radio silence.
(Jaune was like an older brother to Oscar. Despite their scuffle in Argus, Jaune had shown nothing but care and kindness towards him. They had been especially close - Ren knew this.)
(Oscar was hurting too. And Ren didn’t know how to approach him.)
It happened the fifth night in Shade, at 3 in the morning and on the balcony of their shared room. Ren was awoken by a poorly muffled sob, and he checked to see if it was Nora first. She was sleeping peacefully in his arms, no signs of crying or distress. That could only mean that…
Ren slowly sat up, uncurling his arms from Nora and looking towards the bed that Oscar was supposed to be in. The blankets were ruffled and messily thrown to the side, showing that Oscar had been in that bed.
...then there was a warm draft that caught Ren’s attention. He looked to the side to see that the sliding door to the balcony was open, and concern began to fill his chest. He carefully climbed out of bed and looked towards the balcony, seeing a small silhouette curled up on the floor.
Oscar.
His shoulders were shaking, dark blue petals swirling around him like a storm. He seemed to be holding something in his arms, and the more Ren looked, it appeared to be a piece of fabric. “...Oscar?” He asked quietly, wincing when the boy flinched and turned to him with wide eyes. He held the piece of fabric closer to his chest, small hiccups and whimpers escaping him. “Oh, Oscar…”
Oscar shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face into the fabric he was holding. Ren knelt down next to him hesitantly reaching out and running his hand through Oscar’s hair. Oscar let out a broken noise, yet leaned into his touch, silent sobs shaking his shoulders. “Come here, Oscar, come on.” Ren opened his arms and brought Oscar into a tight hug, letting the boy cry silently into his shoulder. “Let it out. It’s okay.”
“I miss him.” Oscar sobbed out, gripping onto Ren’s shirt. “I-I thought I would work I thought… I thought we would be okay -”
Ren’s eyes stung, but he did his best to ignore it as he rocked Oscar gently in his arms. “I know. I know.”
“Why didn’t it work?”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry. I don’t know.”
Oscar simply sobbed in reply, holding onto Ren as if he was the only thing keeping him tethered and grounded. Ren was aware that tears were silently rolling down his cheeks, but he elected to ignore them, focusing on comforting the boy in his arms. “We’re… we’re going to be okay.” Ren ignored how his voice wavered and cracked at the end of that sentence.
Oscar shook his head pulling away from Ren for a moment. He looked down at the fabric in his arms, his face crumpling once more. Ren’s eyebrows furrowed and he peeked to see what Oscar was holding.
...to say that he felt as if he had been punched in the stomach was an understatement.
Oscar was clutching onto the hoodie Jaune had given him at Atlas.
Ren remembered the scene like it was yesterday. He remembered waking up to see Oscar curled under the blankets with Jaune’s all-too-big hoodie. He remembered chuckling at Jaune’s starry expression. He remembered how Jaune excitedly rambled to Nora and him about how he was glad that Oscar was slowly beginning to trust him again.
Ren didn’t notice the sobs that were escaping him until Oscar barreled into him, babbling apologies for making him cry even harder. Ren shook his head, unable to form any words, and wrapped his arms around Oscar tightly. The two of them cried together on the cold floor of the balcony, and two suddenly became three when Nora flung her arms around both of them, tears rolling down her cheeks as well.
“Oh, Oscar,” She sobbed out. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”
“It’s not.” Oscar shook his head, hiding his face in Ren’s shoulder. “It’s not. He’s… I…” Oscar couldn’t even finish his sentence, and it broke Ren’s heart even more. He ran his fingers through Oscar’s hair while holding him tightly, remaining silent as he sobbed in his arms. Nora rested her head on Ren’s other shoulder, intertwining their hands. She reached out and rubbed small circles onto Oscar’s shoulder, pointedly not looking at the fabric in Oscar’s hands.
They sat there for a while - just the three of them, on the cold balcony floor, finding comfort in one another and letting their grief out.
It was the three of them again. Nora and Ren found themselves in a broken trio again, just with a different person. Grieving for one of their teammates.
...grieving for all the people they lost. Grieving for their family.
After a while, Ren noticed that Oscar had fallen silent. He looked down to see that Oscar had essentially cried himself to sleep in Ren’s arms, clutching onto the hoodie tightly. Ren let out a soft sigh, reaching down to wipe away any stray tears from Oscar’s cheeks. Nora mirrored his sigh, then stood up, stretching out her limbs. A weak smile formed on her face.
“We should… get some rest.” She spoke quietly. Ren nodded. As carefully as he could, he hoisted Oscar into his arms and walked towards the bed, laying him down and climbing under the blankets. Nora climbed in after them, reaching over to intertwine their hands again. No words were exchanged between the two - the silence spoke loud enough for the both of them.
It hurt. It still hurt so fucking much.
Their family was broken - fractured - it would never be the same.
...it would take time to heal. It would take lots of time and tears.
(“...it’ll be just like Beacon again”, huh?)