𝗔𝗨𝗚𝗨𝗦𝗧 𝟮𝟰𝗧𝗛, 𝟮𝟬𝟭𝟯 ... 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙙.

monty glanced out the window for what left the the ten hundredth time that evening, his eyes trained on the empty street as night fully settled over the houses. the sun had dipped below the horizon hours ago, leaving a few scattered glowing lights from street lamps.

anxiously, he checked his phone again. no message or no missed calls — nothing to indicate where robert was or when he would return. a knot of worry tightened in his stomach. robert should've been back hours ago. he would always shoot monty a message, even if he was to be just a few minutes behind. but since he'd left work early, monty heard nothing.

monty's eyes drifted across the street to the millers' house, dark and quiet, with only a faint light peeking through a narrow crack in the curtains. he'd watched earlier as maggie rushed back and forth, dragging bags and cases into her car. monty had been too shy to ask if she needed any help, or if she knew what was going on, but he'd seen the nervous, quick glances she cast down the streets as she did so. despite her urgency, her car still sat parked out front.

he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. he wished he could shake the feeling that something was wrong. he wasn't used to this kind of silence. normally, robert would be home by now, bustling in with a warm grin, a joke, or a question about monty's day, even if the two of them spent it working together. but now, the house felt empty.

with a final glance at the millers' house, monty picked up a pen and a crinkled scrap of paper from off of the counter. scribbling a quick note, he let the words spill out hastily: 'bobby, i'm over at the millers' if you get back.' he pinned it to the fridge with a magnet, hoping it would be the first thing robert would see if — or when — he finally came through the door.

a pang of anxiety struck as he looked around the kitchen, at the framed photos of his parents hanging by the fridge. the memories felt like a hollowed echo now, like brief snapshots from some other life. monty swallowed hard, the ache in his chest almost tangible as he thought about his parents. they'd been gone for so long now, but nights like these brought their absence back, and he wished he could reverse time and bring them both back. they'd be so proud of the man he'd become.

❝ c'mon boy, ❞ monty mumbled, patting his leg as his loyal canine trotter over, tail wagging. rockstar had been monty's little shadow for years, as bobby would say, always ready to follow him anywhere, and tonight was no different. they stepped out into the cool night air, the door clicking shut behind them.

monty cast a glance at the empty driveway, hoping against hope he'd see robert pulling in, the headlights sweeping across the lawn. but the street stayed silent, and with a quiet sigh, he turned and made his way across the road to the millers' front door. he raised his hand to knock, then hesitated, biting his lip as he steeled himself. he knew maggie might not have all the answers — but just being with someone might ease the heavy weight in his chest.

be tapped lightly on the door, and after a moment, he heard footsteps inside. the door opened slowly, and maggie peered out, her face lined with worry, relief flickering in her eyes when she saw him.

❝ monty? ❞ she whispered, glancing over his shoulder towards his house. ❝ are you alright? ❞

monty nodded, though he felt far from alright. ❝ i was wondering... if you'd heard from bobby? he said he'd be home hours ago, but i've not seen him, ❞

maggie's face softened with sympathy, but there was an unease lurking behind her expression. ❝ i haven't, i'm sorry monty, ❞ she mumbled. she glanced around, as if afraid to speak too loudly, before continuing in a hushed tone, ❝ people have been saying strange things that don't make sense, ❞

monty felt rockstar press against his leg.

❝ why don't you come on in? nathan and i can keep you guys company, until bobby gets back, ❞ maggie said, stepping back and waving her arm to allow for monty to step in. ❝ have you eaten yet? we are yet to eat, but i can grab you a plate if you're hungry? ❞

monty nodded gratefully, stepping into the warmth of the millers' house, rockstar following close behind. the door closed behind him, clacking as it was locked by maggie. ❝ i'd appreciate that. it's been a while since i had something to eat, ❞

the comforting scent of something hearty drifted from the kitchen, wrapping around monty like a soft, fluffy winters blanket. for the first time in hours, he felt his shoulders start to relax, just a little. maggie led him to the dining area, where the table was set, bowls of stew waiting for them, steam drifting upwards. her son, nathan, was already seated, poking absentmindedly at his food but looking up when monty entered.

❝ come sit, monty, ❞ maggie said gently, scooping up a spare bowl off the table, and adding some stew into it, before handing it over to him as he took a seat across from nathan. rockstar settled by monty's feet.

as he spooned the first taste of stew, monty realised just how hungry he was. the meal was simple but warm, the flavours filling him with a brief, comforting sense of normalcy. the house was cozy, its familiar sights easing his frayed nerves for the moment. but as soon as the stew's warmth faded from his throat, his anxiety began to creep back in. he could feel Maggie's eyes on him, a mixture of concern and sympathy as he continued to eat in silence. he would look up every so often to see her lips stretched into a smile.

silence settled over the table. nathan shifted slightly in his seat, his eyes darting between his mom and monty, as if sensing the tension but unsure of what to say.

monty put his spoon down after a mouthful. ❝ do you think... something's happened? i mean, he wouldn't just disappear without a word? ❞ he hesitated, not wanting to dampen the mood, but the words spilled out before he could stop them.

maggie's face softened, and she reached over to give his hand a quick squeeze. ❝ i don't know, monty, ❞ she said quietly, ❝ things feel different tonight. but until we know more, we'll just take it slow. he might come back a little later. in the meantime, you're safe here, and we'll keep an eye out. maybe he just got held up helping someone else, ❞

monty forced a small smile, trying to find comfort in her words.

after a few quiet minutes, Maggie cleared her throat, breaking the silence. ❝ i'll make up a place for you on the couch, alright? you can stay here tonight. we don't know what's going on, but at least we'll all be here, ❞

monty nodded, feeling a rush of gratitude. the thought of going back to an empty house, waiting for an uncle who might not return that night, was a prospect he didn't want to face. ❝ thank you, maggie, ❞ he said lowly with a smile, keeping his eyes on his half—finished stew to hide the relief that he felt.

silence encompassed them all again, interrupted only by a huff or two from rockstar as he shifted by monty's feet to get comfortable. when they were done, maggie gathered the bowls and took them to the kitchen, then returned, leaving the table empty except for the three of them.

monty settled back into his chair, letting out a sigh. he checked the clock that hung on the wall, ticking away the minutes that passed.

❝ i'll clean up for you, maggie. i'll let you two get some rest. it's been a long day after all, ❞ monty said, getting to his feet and tucking the chair under the table before sauntering towards the kitchen.

the air in the eldridge's home felt like a sanctuary. the cozy glow of the kitchen lights reflected off the wooden countertops, which had been freshly polished that day. outside, the faint creak of tree branches swaying in the breeze mingled with the distant hum of cicadas. it was a moment that almost felt normal.

hector stood at the counter, ladling soup from a large, steaming pot into four ceramic bowls. the steam curled upward, carrying with it a very comforting aroma of rosemary and thyme. a hint of garlic mingled with the yeasty scent of fresh bread, the combination wrapping around hector warmly. but even the rich smells and homely clatter of dishes couldn't quite drown out the heaviness that had settled over him.

behind him, the eldridge's chatted about their day. the pair spoke of a brief walk through the nearby park, the crisp air, and the blooms of wildflowers. their words sounded so distant and muffled to hector, like he was heading a conversation through a wall. a part of him envied them — their blissful detachment from all the horrors that had unfolded in the city that morning.

be paused, letting the ladle rest against the rim of the pot. lisa's face flashed in his mind, pale and twisted in death — or whatever it was that she had become. his hand tightened around the ladle, but he forced himself to let the memory fade. not now. he couldn't fall apart now. oliver needed him to be strong.

❝ hector? ❞ jane's soft voice snapped him back to the present. she stood in the doorway, her kind eyes full of concern. ❝ are you alright, dear? ❞

he nodded quickly, plastering on a small smile. ❝ yeah, just thinking. soup's ready though, ❞

jane gave hector a warm smile before retreating to the dining room. hector took a deep breath and called over his shoulder, ❝ hey sprog! come set the table, ❞

the sound of smaller footsteps pattering across the wooden floor signaled oliver's approach. he emerged from the living room, his dark hair slightly mussed and his cheeks flushed from play. he entered the kitchen, then turned back out. in his hands, he carefully carried the silverware and a bowl of sliced bread.

❝ the cat's nice, ❞ oliver said as he set the items down.

hector managed a real smile this time. ❝ yeah? what's its name? ❞

❝ pickle, ❞ oliver replied with a grin. ❝ weird name for a cat, ❞

hector chuckled softly and shook his head.

with the table set, hector brought over all the bowls of soup, one by one, placing them carefully in front of each seat.

❝ and, dinner is served, ❞ hector announced, his voice carrying an attempt at cheer.

the four of them sat down, and the clinking of spoons against ceramic filled the small room. the soup was hot and flavorful, the bread soft with a crisp crust. for a few precious moments, there was silence — only the sounds of eating and the occasional murmur of joy at the taste.

hector looked at oliver, who was hunched over his bowl, eagerly spooning soup into his mouth. across the table, mr. and mrs. eldridge exchanged a glance.

for now, though, he let himself sink into the moment. the warmth of the kitchen, the taste of good food, and the soft chatter of kind people were a balm.

the meal came to an end with the soft clink of spoons that settled into empty bowls. hector leaned back, his hands resting on the edge of the table. his stomach felt full. he glanced at the clock on the wall and noted the time — it was later than he thought. the weariness of the day pushed down on him, and hector huffed.

he stood, smoothing his hands over his pants. ❝ okay, oliver, ❞ he said lowly, ❝ head up to the spare room. i'll be up shortly, ❞

oliver, who had been leaning forward with his chin propped on his hands, nodded. he pushed back his chair and stood, grabbing the bowl that had held the bread and carrying it to the kitchen counter. without a word, he turned toward the hallway, his footsteps light as he disappeared up the stairs.

hector gathered the rest of the bowls, stacking them in one another carefully to avoid making noise. the eldridge's were still at the table, but their conversation had quieted to a murmur. he gave them a small nod before retreating to the kitchen.

the room was dim, the overhead light throwing faint shadows against the tiled walls. hector set the dishes on the counter by the sink and turned on the faucet. he let the water run until it grew warm, then twisted the handle to find the right balance. as the sink filled, he added a squirt of dish soap and watched as the water turned cloudy and frothy, bubbles forming and piling high.

for a moment, he stood still, staring at the foam. it felt strangely hypnotic, a brief escape from the relentless chaos in his head. with a sigh, he rolled up his sleeves and dunked the first bowl into the water, the warmth soaking into his tired hands. the motions came naturally — scrubbing, rinsing, placing the clean dishes on the drying rack. it was mundane, a slice of normalcy in a world that had quickly become anything but.

once the last spoon was rinsed and set aside, hector drained the sink, watching as the water swirled down the drain, taking the day's remnants with it. he dried his hands on a dish towel and stepped back, letting out a long, slow breath.

he walked back into the living room to find the eldridge's now settled on their couch, a knitted blanket draped over their laps. they sat close together, mr's eldridge's head resting against her husband's shoulder.

❝ thank you, ❞ hector said softly, ❝ for the meal, and for letting us stay the night, ❞

❝ you don't have to thank us, hector. you and oliver have always been welcome here, ❞ jane huffed quietly, her eyes soft as she nodded her head at hector.

hector managed a faint smile in return before turning toward the stairs. the creak of the wooden steps under his weight echoed faintly in the quiet house. as he climbed, the soft hum of voices from the television drifted after him, mingling with the subtle creak of the walls settling.

at the top of the stairs, the spare room door was ajar, light spilling out into the dim hallway. hector pushed the door open fully and stepped inside. oliver was already curled up on the bed, bundled under a blue and orange checkered blanket. his breathing was slow and steady — sleep had already claimed him.

hector stood for a moment, watching his son in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. the sight filled him with a bittersweet ache — relief that oliver was safe.

he crossed the room quietly, sitting down in the chair near the bed. His fingers brushed over the lamp's switch, and after a moment's hesitation, he clicked it off. the room plunged into darkness, save for the faint silver of moonlight streaming through the curtains.

for now, they were safe. for now, they could rest.