15minuteficlets - A Boy's Grief - PSoH
Disclaimer: I don’t own Petshop of Horrors and I make no money from this or any other fanfic I write.
Pairing: None
Category: General
Rating: PG
Warning: Reference to Death
Title: A Boy’s Grief
Author: yellowhorde
Notes: This story was written for the LiveJournal community, 15minuteficlets. Word #5 - Baby
I can’t believe she’s gone…
Leon sat forlornly on one of the hard plastic chairs in the waiting room, head down. He slumped forward with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands dangling between his legs, and stared at the tile floor. Instead of seeing the white marble swirls, he saw his mother’s smiling face. Somewhere in the distance, a doctor was paged over the loudspeaker, but all he heard in his head was her warm reassurances that everything would be all right.
Footsteps approached and he sensed more than saw a shadow fall over him. Without looking up, he knew who the intruder was, the overpowering scent of Old Spice gave him away.
“Uncle,” Leon mumbled in way of greeting without even lifting his head.
An awkward silence stretched between them but eventually his uncle took a seat beside him, grunting as he lowered himself into the stiff plastic chair.
“Leon, I just want you to know that we will take care of everything. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”
When his words failed to illicit any sort of response from the despondent teenager, the older man plunged on. “I know you’re starting college next week, but I just want to let you know that you can call us if you need anything, anything at all.”
“Yeah, I will,” Leon mumbled. But he knew he wouldn’t.
After a few minutes of silence, Leon’s aunt joined them, holding his baby brother in her arms. Leon’s eyes wavered between her face, so much like his mother’s, to the baby, then back again. The baby began to fuss, then cry in earnest. Clearing his throat, he spoke and his voice was low, hoarse, and pained.
“Can… can I hold him?”
His aunt and uncle exchanged looks. “Of course you can, dear.”
With great care, she placed the crying infant into his arms, directing Leon on how to hold him and how to support his tiny head. Leon held the baby stiffly and did his best to ignore the burning in his eyes and the way his throat squeezed so tight. To his amazement, the baby stopped crying and looked at him with his mother’s calm, blue eyes.”
“I think he likes you,” his aunt whispered.
“Yeah,” he muttered thickly.
Too bad I can’t say the same thing about him.
THE END
Pairing: None
Category: General
Rating: PG
Warning: Reference to Death
Title: A Boy’s Grief
Author: yellowhorde
Notes: This story was written for the LiveJournal community, 15minuteficlets. Word #5 - Baby
I can’t believe she’s gone…
Leon sat forlornly on one of the hard plastic chairs in the waiting room, head down. He slumped forward with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands dangling between his legs, and stared at the tile floor. Instead of seeing the white marble swirls, he saw his mother’s smiling face. Somewhere in the distance, a doctor was paged over the loudspeaker, but all he heard in his head was her warm reassurances that everything would be all right.
Footsteps approached and he sensed more than saw a shadow fall over him. Without looking up, he knew who the intruder was, the overpowering scent of Old Spice gave him away.
“Uncle,” Leon mumbled in way of greeting without even lifting his head.
An awkward silence stretched between them but eventually his uncle took a seat beside him, grunting as he lowered himself into the stiff plastic chair.
“Leon, I just want you to know that we will take care of everything. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”
When his words failed to illicit any sort of response from the despondent teenager, the older man plunged on. “I know you’re starting college next week, but I just want to let you know that you can call us if you need anything, anything at all.”
“Yeah, I will,” Leon mumbled. But he knew he wouldn’t.
After a few minutes of silence, Leon’s aunt joined them, holding his baby brother in her arms. Leon’s eyes wavered between her face, so much like his mother’s, to the baby, then back again. The baby began to fuss, then cry in earnest. Clearing his throat, he spoke and his voice was low, hoarse, and pained.
“Can… can I hold him?”
His aunt and uncle exchanged looks. “Of course you can, dear.”
With great care, she placed the crying infant into his arms, directing Leon on how to hold him and how to support his tiny head. Leon held the baby stiffly and did his best to ignore the burning in his eyes and the way his throat squeezed so tight. To his amazement, the baby stopped crying and looked at him with his mother’s calm, blue eyes.”
“I think he likes you,” his aunt whispered.
“Yeah,” he muttered thickly.
Too bad I can’t say the same thing about him.
THE END