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It’s been a long day. Chris had woken up late, of course, the 8-year-old enjoying sleeping late on warm summer mornings like this one had been, waiting for the sun to wake him, as opposed to his mother. When he’d finally risen for breakfast, there were warm pancakes on the table, crunchy bacon, and glasses of orange juice for each chair. His dad was even there, the Sturniolo family patriarch taking the morning off his job to eat with his wife and boys.
They’d all gone their separate ways after breakfast, but not before his mom had mentioned that there was a moving truck across the street, that she’d seen a little boy hop out, there was another kid in Somerville, finally. Not that he minded the ones already there, but the other were either mean to him and his brothers, or too old to play the games Chris wanted to. A new boy changes things; maybe Chris can finally make a friend.
He’d been walking around and waiting for this new boy to come check out the neighborhood, the entire thing walkable, there was even a playground on their street that Chris and his brothers liked to frequent, but he never showed. It’s getting dark when Chris heads home, maybe the new boy needed time to get used to his new-
“Hey, kid.” He’s approached by an adult he’s never seen, who distracts him from his thoughts. As he steps into his driveway, he studies the man. He's going away from the front door, whereas Chris goes towards it; it was inevitable for their paths to cross, and Chris’s fight or flight takes over, staring at this man. “Are you Chris?”
He blinks owlishly at this man, trying to calculate how fast he can run to get inside, and guessing how fast the taller can. He might be able to outrun him, just might, he’s smaller, and smaller is always faster.
“W-who are you? “He tries to play it cool, like he’s not terrified this man will take him, that he’ll never see his parents and brothers again. He’s seen missing kids on the news, and does not want to be the next.
“My name’s David. I just moved in across the street. I’ve got a boy about your age.” He points back to the moving truck in the driveway. “Do you think you can help me?”
Help him? Oh, oh, no way. No way in hell, pardon his language, but he will not be helping a stranger, especially at this time.
“My son, his name’s Oliver. He ran off earlier; your parents and brothers are helping me look for him. Would you come too?”
Chris wants to say no. Chris wants to scream “stranger danger”, go running to safety, to his mom, but his feet are rooted to the ground like a tree. He’s pleading with them to unroot, but they are stubborn and fixed.
The money changes everything. David pulls a five-dollar bill out of his wallet, extending it towards Chris, and that is what breaks the stillness.
He runs, he runs faster than he ever has before. Fast like he’s running to avoid Justin tagging him, like he’s racing Matt to the park, that kind of fast. He doesn’t stop to breathe till he’s out of sight, running a long and convoluted path to make sure he’s not followed, before he realizes where he is.
He’d taken a different route home, one he didn’t realize existed, but now he’s on the hill behind his house, a few geraniums tickling his ankles as they move with the breeze, and it’s enough to get him to actually breathe, to take stock of his surroundings. It all seems typical; he can see his house, all the lights on, but nobody home. He’s moving towards it, wanting to go home and relax, when he sees something abnormal.
Someone is sitting on the hill behind his house. They stand out like a sore thumb against the wildflowers and tall grass, and dread fills his stomach. The only person who regularly sits there is Matt, when the anxiety gets too deep, too far in to banish with simple breathing exercises, but this is not Matt.
Matt is shorter, his height actually, and very much not dark-haired. Chris slowly inches forward, not afraid to defend himself, when he hears crying. Whoever this is, they’re having a rough night. All the fight drains from Chris as he approaches.
“Hi, are you okay?” He murmurs, standing hesitantly close to this new person, close enough to hear, but far enough to run if he has to again.
The mystery person raises his head, looking up at Chris. He tries to speak, but nothing comes out, and he cries more. It’s a boy, around his age. Oliver? Probably.
"Is this your hill?" The stranger asked, an unfamiliar accent edged in sorrow. "I can go if it is."
Chris shakes his head. "Nope, I don’t own it.” He’s technically not lying. His house isn’t far, maybe two minutes away on foot, but if this is anyone’s hill, it’s Matt’s.
The boy nods, wiping away more tears, and Chris feels upset alongside him. The youngest triplet has always worn his heart on his sleeve, quick to emotions that other people feel, especially if they’re kids his age. "I'm Oliver. My- my dad and I just moved here."
"I’m Chris. Why did your family leave?" leaves Chris's mouth quickly, quicker than he can think. He can't just ask that, that’s gotta be mean or something.
"Because- Because my mom and dad don't want to live together with me anymore, so- so Dad and I had to leave Los Ang'les." He slurs his words as he begins to cry more. Chris plunks down next to him in the grass, deciding he’s not a threat, at least for now. “I want to go home, I wanna see my mom again.”
Chris isn’t sure what to say. He’s never met a kid who didn’t have their mom, but if Chris suddenly didn’t have his anymore, he’s sure he would feel the same. He hesitantly rubs Oliver’s shoulder in reassurance, and the other pulls Chris in for a hug, probably just needing someone to talk to.
Chris’s never heard of Los Ang’les, so it must be outside his home state, and if it’s outside his home state, it means Oliver’s been in the car for a long time. Chris hates being stuck in the car; he gets all upset, too.
“How far away is Los Ang’les?” Chris murmurs, holding onto Oliver tightly. Sometimes when Chris cries, his dad hugs him tight, and the pressure around him makes him feel better. He’s nowhere as strong as his dad, but he’s still gonna try.
“Far. Days far.” Oliver murmurs through sobs. “Days.”
Jeez, Chris would be crying too if he had to spend days and days in the car. He rubs Oliver’s back in reassurance as he hears familiar voices. His mother, his father, brothers, and that man, Oliver’s dad, all calling their names. Oliver tenses in his arms, looking like he wants to run this time, but Chris holds tight.
“It’ll be okay.” Chris nods. “Just my family, and your dad.” He murmurs. “They’re not bad folk.”
Nick spots the pair first and moves over to them quickly, parents, Justin, and Matt in close pursuit. David’s got a look rivalling his son’s, but Chris doubts it’s for the same reason. He helps both boys up, checking Oliver over, as Mary Lou fusses over Chris.
“We’re both just fine.’ Chris assures both families. “Oliver just- he needed a moment, needed a friend.”
David thanks the others for helping them search the neighborhood, helping him find his son, and tries to peel him away from Chris, but the boy holds tight.
“It’s okay. We can walk together.” Chris assures, moving up the hill, Oliver in tow. It’s a mostly quiet walk up through his backyard, save for Oliver’s sniffles, passing through the backyard and across the quiet street with ease. When they get to Oliver’s brand new front door, he doesn’t release, ignoring his father for the safety of his new friend.
“It’s okay. I- I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? That’s a promise.” Chris assures, as Oliver’s grip softens. He separates, but extends a pinky chris’s direction, and the youngest triplet takes it without hesitation, twisting their fingers in silent promise.
“Goodnight Oliver.” Chris yawns as the boy retreats into the house. Chris follows suit, returning to his own home, barely awake. Part of him already misses his new friend, and as he’s lectured about running off, before he’s shepherded off to bed, all he can feel is the ghost of Oliver’s tight grip on his shirt, still with him even if he’s not there physically, and it’s that comfort that lulls him to sleep.