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The apologetic silence mixed with the taunting darkness has Etho tugging his blankets over his head, encasing him in a false sense of safety. There is nothing to be afraid of except for nothing itself. He’s terrified of facing the nothing on the other side of the room.
No one slept the first night.
Doc was visiting for a week in celebration of him getting accepted as a transfer student next semester. Doc, Etho, Beef, and Bdubs squished together on the couch, playing Super Smash Bros with some beers. Someone knocked on the door. Bdubs shot off the couch, shouting that the pizza they’d ordered was finally here. Their front door swung open with a creak. Bdubs’ cheers suddenly cut off, and his tone became hushed and serious. Doc and Beef paid it no mind, too focused on not falling off the map. Etho peered over the back of the couch and caught a glimpse of a police uniform.
“No, no, that can’t be right—” Bdubs stammered, spinning around to face the rest of them. Etho was the only one looking at him. He would never forget Bdubs’ face.
One of the officers delivered a rehearsed apology. The game’s music stopped, and now Beef and Doc were also looking at the door.
“What’s going on?”
“Pause is dead.”
The delivery man came moments later, and then he and the officers were gone. Bdubs let the boxes hit the coffee table and sat back down on the couch. He was crying, Beef was crying, Doc was crying. Etho wasn’t. The words had gone in one ear and out the other before playing tug-of-war, ripping back and forth through his shocked mind.
He was the one to call Pause’s family later that night as the only one able to make it through a sentence without crying. They had already known, but they thanked him anyway with a promise to stop by in a few days to grab some of his things.
The rest of the night was spent with the four of them on the couch: the paused Smash screen just as forgotten as the pizza they had been so excited for only a few hours ago. They barely spoke, only to utter their absolute disbelief at the news.
Etho didn’t sleep the second night either.
He still hadn’t cried, and he still couldn’t believe Pause was gone. He couldn’t sleep either and definitely not in his room. He had gone in once to grab some clothes, shut the door on his way out, and changed in the bathroom. Now, he had holed himself up in the kitchen for the night, sitting at the kitchen table with a flashlight and a textbook.
He heard Doc get up from the couch and walk through the archway into the kitchen. Etho switched off his flashlight, an apology for the light spewing from his lips.
“You didn’t wake me. You should get some sleep.”
“Not tired.”
“You didn’t sleep yesterday.”
“I have an exam tomorrow. I’d have to wake up early anyway. Figured I might as well study.”
“You could sleep in the living room. I’m sure Tango and Impulse would let me sleep on their couch."
He winced at their names, remembering all the phone calls he’d made earlier that day, all the voice messages of “hey, call me back when you’re at home.” He didn’t know why everyone had made him the de facto bearer of news to all of their mutual friends. Maybe because he was the most outwardly calm. They probably assumed he could handle it, which he did because he didn’t know what else to do.
He shook his head. “Nah, the couch is yours, man.”
Doc opened his mouth to argue but instead deflated and sighed, “At least turn on the kitchen light. It won’t bother me.”
Etho nodded and bid him good night, turning his flashlight on once he heard Doc settle back down on the couch. No use ruining Doc's sleep because he couldn’t handle sitting in his room for the night.
He managed to get a couple hours of sleep on the third night, mostly because he was so exhausted from the past few days of no sleep that he couldn't see straight.
The fourth night was rougher. Physical exhaustion didn’t pull him down, so he sat on his bed and waited for the seconds and minutes and hours to tick by. He had to get used to being alone here anyway. He had the lights off, not wanting to be able to see Pause’s side of the room, untouched as it was left just a couple mornings ago.
He woke up with a thunk and a yelp on the floor. He must have fallen asleep, still sat up, at some point. Early morning sunlight streamed through the thin blinds.
He heard footsteps rush to his room. There was a whispered conversation outside of the shut door before there was a knock.
“Etho?” Beef asked cautiously, “Can I open the door?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
Beef opened the door with Doc right behind him. They stayed firmly behind the threshold but had their heads poking in to see Etho crumpled on the floor.
“Are you okay? What happened?”
“Just fell out of bed,” he answered, pushing himself up. “I’m fine.”
“Come here. Let me check.”
Something bubbled inside of him that wanted to scream “come in here and check if you care so much!” He didn’t like feeling like the room was now some museum. He didn’t want to be a mannequin in an exhibit.
But he understood they were grieving too, so he headed over, standing on his side of the threshold and letting Beef and Doc give him a once-over before they told him to get some more rest and shut the door.
The fifth night was both the smoothest and roughest. He slept the whole night, waking up to an alarm.
He groaned as the stupid default chime crescendoed, “Turn your alarm off.”
When nothing happened, he finally rolled over.
“Pause—”
Pause was dead.
The tears started for the first time as the stupid alarm kept chiming obliviously cheery. Didn’t it know his roommate was dead? It took him a couple minutes before he managed to get up, shuffling across the invisible line that divided his side of the room from the side untouched by time. He tapped at the screen—vision too swimmy to actually see the words. The music abruptly cut off, plunging him into a solemn silence. He set the phone back down, still plugged into the charger, where it had been originally left. He understood the museum feel now.
It took an hour for him to stop crying, but he managed to pull himself together. He tidied his side of the room by shoving everything under his blankets, got dressed, shrugged his backpack on, and left to hide on campus. He couldn’t face Pause’s parents yet.
They were gone by the time he returned late that evening, and he hesitantly checked what was gone. It wasn’t much. Most of his clothes, especially those towards the middle of the bar where his and Etho’s clothes met and mixed together, still hung in the closet as usual. His desk was bare: backpack, school supplies, and knick-knacks missing. Besides the calendar that hung on the wall, all of Pause’s other decorations were gone too.
Even under the safety of his blankets, he feels like he’s suffocating—both by the stuffy air and the knowledge of everything that’s now missing. The knowledge that Pause is truly dead and gone and now Etho is alone.
He doesn’t want to be alone.
He really doesn’t want to be alone.
And with that thought, he slips and slides and crashes hard into little space. He hasn’t regressed in a while: too busy with exams and homework. His little bin of his flashlight, toys, and stuffed polar bear go abandoned under his bed. He knows if he just reached down between the wall and his mattress, he could reach the bin. But it’s dark, and he’s in no mood to play. He’s confused and scared and sad.
He had his blanket over his head, a flashlight lighting up the small space. His cars were scattered around. The mattress wasn’t smooth, and each time he shifted at all, they went rolling all over the place. It was half the fun really, and it made him laugh each time. He tried to be quiet though as he giggled and made engine noises, rolling the cars around his makeshift obstacle course of his bear and toy soldiers and other trinkets he kept in his bin.
Pause was gaming as usual. Etho listened to his hushed yelling of directions and complaints at his teammates. His keyboard and mouse were loud too, but Etho didn't mind. It was familiar white noise at this point.
Pause stopped in the middle of his sentence about how unfair the game was, and Etho could hear the unintelligible noises of his teammates.
“That’s just my roommate,” Pause explained, and Etho’s face went red because he clearly wasn’t as quiet as he thought. “He’s like watching something or something. I don’t know, just ignore it. You’re the only one with a problem with it. He’s not being loud— yeah like you’re one to talk with your stupid fan like I swear it is blowing right into your mic, my guy!”
Something begins to buzz. Etho pats around under his blankets looking for his phone. Weird, he always has his phone on silent. When he finds it, there are no notifications. The buzzing picks up again.
He dares to peek out from under his blankets. Pause's phone, still plugged in on his nightstand, buzzes. It casts a dim light on the now bare walls. Why didn’t his parents take it?
The phone buzzes insistently. His fuzzy brain reminds him that it's his job to crack Pause's passwords, so they can message his online friends. He can’t do it now. He should. It’s not like he was doing much of anything else, but everything is too much. There are too many big emotions and scary duties squeezing him uncomfortably tight. It’s all too big and too much.
His hand dives down, the back of his hand scraping against the cottage cheese-textured wall. He ignores it and fumbles until his fingers touch the soft fur of his bear. Hiding under the covers with it doesn’t help him feel much braver. It just brings back the feeling of suffocating.
He needs someone. He can’t be in the room alone right now. He doesn't know whether he should bother though. He knows he can’t even dream of pretending to be big and okay, and he's not too keen on having anyone see him this vulnerable.
Another buzz rattles against the nightstand, and he’s scrambling out of bed and towards the door. He doesn’t like it. It’s loud and scary, and he’s too afraid to step past the invisible line of his side to turn off the phone right now.
He takes a deep breath before opening the door. He steps out of the scary dark room into the scary darkness of the living room. His heart thunders in his chest as he shuts the door to his room. He clutches the leg of his bear tightly as he tip-toes past Doc, asleep on the couch, and towards Bdubs and Beef’s room.
He stands in front of the looming door, unsure of what he wants other than Pause. Glancing back at the dark room he’d just come from and realising that his other options are the cold outside or his lonely room rids him of any hesitations. He pushes the door open and stands silently in the doorway frozen for a few moments. What is he supposed to do? Who is he going to wake up?
Bdubs has early classes and a lofted bed, but Beef’s bed isn’t. He also has a firm rule of no classes before 11. But what if he gets upset that Etho woke him up? Etho isn’t the only one who is grieving and needs sleep. But he's so scared. His universe feels like it’s collapsing in on itself while getting sucked into a black hole at the same time.
He creeps forward, kneeling down in front of Beef’s bed. His hand hovers above his friend's shoulder for a while as his fuzzy head spirals and swirls and argues with itself.
“Etho?” Beef mumbles, drawing Etho back to the present. The familiar voice brings to front all his fears and the overwhelming need to not be alone right now. He can’t handle that, and he doesn’t know what to do if he can't convince Beef to let him stay.
"Please," he pleads, wincing at how squeaky his whispering, unsteady voice sounds, but he’s just so little and so, so scared. "Can I stay here tonight? Please, just tonight. It won't happen again, please, please, please, just for a lil tonight. 'S scary, and I—"
"Hey, shhh, come here," Beef whispers, scooting back in an invitation for Etho to get on the bed.
It’s an invitation he doesn't hesitate to take, carefully setting his bear on the mattress before hauling himself up on the bed to crawl in beside his friend.
Beef pulls the covers over both of them. Etho pats around blindly for his bear, inhaling shakily when he can't find it.
"What are you looking for?"
"Bear," he whimpers. He sits up, trying to see in the dark room.
Beef, ever the hero, finds it in a solid half-second and hands it over. He pulls Etho back down and lets him hide his face against his chest.
"Are you cold?" Beef asks, and Etho realises he’s shivering despite being under the blanket and pressed against Beef.
"I dunno," he answers because he truly doesn't.
Beef just hums and presses his chin to the top of Etho's head. It feels safe like he’s protected from all the scary darkness and loneliness and silence and emptiness that awaits him in his room instead of his roommate and best friend. Pause is dead.
"Breathe," Beef reminds gently, and he sucks in a sharp breath. Too sharp. He starts coughing. His throat, already sore from crying, grows angrier. He doesn't know how to make it less angry, and he doesn't know how to make his lungs cooperate with the rest of him, and he doesn't know how to make his tummy settle, and he doesn't know how to make his heart stop hurting, and he doesn't know how to begin to crack Pause's passwords, and he doesn't know how to tell his online friends.
"Etho, breathe."
He tries to inhale, but he’s still coughing, trying to keep it muffled to not wake Bdubs. Beef starts pulling away from him. He sobs—sharp and loud—and tries to grab Beef's sweatshirt sleeve with his trembling, uncooperative fingers because Pause is gone and now Beef is leaving.
"What's going on?" Bdubs grumbles groggily.
"I've got it. Go back to sleep," Beef answers, pulling him into a sitting position with a steady, heavy hand on his back gently tapping a rhythm for him to breathe to. But he can't, and tears drip down his face. He doesn't know how to rein in all the fragmented parts of himself that are fighting each other.
The bed dips, and a hand rests on his head.
"Sorry," he hiccups, "for wa— waking you."
"Shh, it's okay. I don't mind," Bdubs murmurs, "You're okay. We've got you."
Bdubs and Beef sit with him, unbelievably patient, as they wait for him to be able to follow their breathing. Beef has a grounding arm around his shoulders, and Bdubs' soothing fingers card through his hair as they hold a quiet conversation with each other.
"There we go," Bdubs mumbles when he finally gets in a solid breath.
Beef pulls him back down, chin resting on his head again. He’s being squeezed tight like he’s a stuffed animal, but it doesn’t feel suffocating, just safe and comforting. Wait, where’s his bear?
He makes a noise and squirms, searching for his bear.
"Etho?"
"Bear," he whines frantically.
"Here, it's right here," Bdubs says softly, setting the bear in the hand that wasn't squished between him and Beef.
He tries to thank him, but the sounds come out slurred. He’s so tired.
Bdubs runs his fingers through his hair once more and whispers back, "You're welcome."
Etho hears him clamber back up the ladder to his bed. It’s warm and safe. He’s not alone, and he doesn’t have to face the whole world right now. He starts falling asleep, aching chest and fuzzy head calmed enough to let him rest.
He wakes up to sunlight piercing through his throbbing head. It hurts a lot, and so does his throat. He’s warm and comfy though; a blanket tucked securely around him.
He sits up, ignoring the dizziness that warps his vision. This isn't his bed, and this isn't his room. He clutches his bear close to his chest, the second knuckle of his index finger finding its way between his teeth.
Beef and Bdubs are gone, and he has no clue what time it is. He takes a few minutes to breathe before stepping out of the room.
"Good morning," Doc greets from the couch.
He yanks his finger away from his mouth, forcing his hand to his side. "Morning. What time's it?"
Doc stops scrolling on his phone. "Almost noon."
He's already missed one lecture, and there's no way he'd make it to his next one even if he didn’t feel all fuzzy and little. His finger twitches.
"Bdubs left you breakfast in the fridge."
He nods and heads to the kitchen. As promised, there’s a plate with toast cut into small pieces covered in honey and some berries on the side. Next to it is a green plastic cup with a strawless lid. He can't see what was in it, but there’s a note with his name and a smiley face telling him it would help make his head feel better.
Once he finishes his food and throws the plate in the dishwasher, he returns to the living room and plops down by Doc.
"Mario Kart?"
He nods, sipping at his drink. It tastes weird. He’s pretty sure it was a mix of Gatorade and one of Bdubs' multi-vitamin powders that are supposed to be mixed with water.
Doc sets up the game and hands him a Wiimote. He keeps his bear on his lap as they play. It’s not like Doc hasn’t already seen it, and he’s not ready to go back into his room yet. He doesn’t play very well, but Doc doesn’t take the opportunity to tease him for once. He’s pretty sure Bdubs and Beef told Doc about last night. He’ll just blame playing bad on being sleepy if Doc ends up saying anything.
Speaking of sleepy, he starts drifting off during the last round of their third game. The Mushroom Gorge mushrooms start blurring together, and he’s slumped back against the couch. He has no clue what place he’s in by the end, but based on how often half the screen goes black, probably not first.
A new game starts up. It takes him until the second lap to realise Doc has switched it to single-player and is playing without him. He mumbles something, lets the Wii remote drop to the couch, and holds his bear, content to watch Doc play through half-lidded eyes as he falls back asleep.