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Sammy had worked at the Joey Drew Studios for about a week now, he and Jack here having a time and a half trying to do all the work for the studios music and sound effects by themselves but at least they had stable jobs that paid decently. Not everyone could say the same, Sammy supposed. Sammy had been writing music all day, sitting hunched over a piano listening to the music that flew from his mind and trying to catch the notes as they flew past.
It was time to go home, it had been since a while ago, as far as he knew he was the last one still at the studio. He gathered up his things and began wandering to the door, trying to remember where exactly the quickest way out of the studio was again. He was passing the room he was fairly certain he’d heard someone say was the boiler room when he heard the faint sounds of crying. Sammy stopped for a moment, having a mental debate. Finally, Sammy sighed and carefully opened the door.
The room was small, the boiler took up about a fourth of the room. The room had shelves with all kinds of cleaning supplies on them, as well as a small area that held some clothes and personal hygiene items. Talking up the back corner of the room was a cheap little cot, and sitting on that cot was the person whose crying had drawn Sammy in. It was a boy, early teens, Sammy had seen him cleaning around the studio. The boy looked up with wide eyes as Sammy stood in the doorway. He looked near starving, disheveled, and terrified.
“He- Hello, Mr. Lawrence,” The boy choked out, trying to manage a smile.
“You just call me Sammy,” Sammy took a step into the room. “Are you okay?”
The boy nodded, “Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’re crying,” Sammy pointed out, he slowly moved to sit next to the kid on the cot.
“Oh, yeah,” The kid looked down to his lap and bit his lip. “I just- I lost the only one in my life who cared about me recently.”
Sammy felt a pang in his chest, “I’m sorry, I know that’s hard. When I was a kid my parents died in a house fire. I was lucky enough I wasn’t destitute, but I know how hard it is to end up all alone.”
The kid nodded, “Sorry to hear about that.”
“I’m sorry to hear you ended up alone,” Sammy countered. Sammy looked around the room a bit, “Kid, are you living here?”
The boy’s head snapped to look at Sammy, “Mr. Joey said I could!”
“Hey, I’m not accusing, just asking,” Sammy sighed, closing his eyes and thought for a second. “Hey kid, if you’d like, you can come stay with me. I have an apartment not too far away and I have an extra bedroom I use to keep my piano in but other than that I don’t use it. And if you’d like, I’m sure it would be a lot more comfortable than sleeping in the boiler room.”
The boy’s eyes widened, “That sounds real nice, Mr. Sammy, but I don’t have any money for rent or anything.”
Sammy smiled a little, “I’m not asking for it. When my parents died I had an uncle who stepped in and raised me, without him I don’t know what would have happened to me. I just wanna do the same for you if I can.”
The boy started to cry a bit and surprised Sammy by grabbing him in a hug, “Thank you, Mr. Sammy.”
Sammy chuckled and hugged the kid back, “Just Sammy, please, think of me like you big brother, okay? You wouldn’t call your brother, Mr, now would you?”
The kid pulled away and Sammy’s heart warmed to see the smile on the kids face, “No way… Sammy.”
Sammy smiled back, “Come on then, let’s head out. Go ahead and grab your things and I can help you carry stuff.”
The kid leaped up and began making a bundle of his things, Sammy stood to watch, “Also, I don’t think I ever learned your name.”
The kid turned to him, “The name’s Wally.”
“Nice to meet you, Wally,” Sammy said. He felt his heart warm as he watched the kid get his things together. Maybe it wasn’t much, but he’d had someone help him rise out of the tragedies of his past, so he hoped that maybe, he’d be able to do the same for Wally.