Young Writers Society

Kazimir shifted his gaze to the ceiling, joining Queenie in her upward stare.

"You think I keep ending up in places like this 'cause I've got issues?" he asked, feeling his heart sink a little.

Maybe it was his fault he was in this mess, and it was his fault he might never see his son again. That was something he wasn't sure he'd want to take to heart. That thought hurt too much.

"What do you mean 'places like this'? I don't imagine there are many other apartments set up quite like this one across time and worlds or whatever."

Kazimir pouted.

"I didn't mean apartments. I meant different crazy worlds in general. This is probably... I don't know, my third or fourth time waking up somewhere entirely different. I can't count. There was one freaky dream I can't fully remember where I died, and then there was a ghost town, and there's this..."

He sighed. "All I mean is - well - maybe I deserve it, I guess. But I don't think Bo does. We only have each other, and with me gone, he's going to be stuck with my parents."

That made Kazimir's heart sink a little deeper.

"I just don't see that ending well," he said softly.

"Don't trust your parents?" she asked bluntly. It ran the risk of pissing him off, but he didn't seem all that hot-tempered. Even if he did get angry, there wasn't much he could do.

Kazimir was quiet for a moment.

"No," he said sadly.

"I'm afraid my dad would try to make Bo into what he always wanted me to be, but I was too stubborn. Bo, though, he's always been more... soft. I don't want him to lose that."

Queenie bit back a number of comments. A number of cruel, honest comments.

She gave a lie in their stead.

"He won't," she said with all the sincerity that could be expected of her, "Good people are just a different kind of tough."

Kazimir didn't know if that assuaged his worries at all.

"I guess," he muttered, without conviction.

There was a long pause wherein Queenie didn't feel the need to say a word. The silence felt thick, almost comforting, and too much effort to break.

In the quiet, she could almost hear Bobby's near-silent footsteps as he padded into the room and rounded the couch without a word. He hesitated, gaze flicking between Kazimir and Queenie, before he sat down next to Kazimir on the couch. He folded his knees up to his chest and leaned away from Kazimir, as though to give him space, and didn't make a sound.

Kazimir had closed his eyes for the minute of silence, but when he heard the soft footfalls of what had to be Bobby, and felt the tiny shift in the couch cushions, he opened his eyes and looked over at the kid.

"Hey, bud," he said. "Did you get any rest?"

Bobby looked briefly panicked that attention was suddenly on him, but he calmed down rather quickly. He shrugged non-committally and shifted his gaze to the floor.

Kazimir laughed a little. "Same here. We were just chatting. Hopefully we didn't disturb you."

"You didn't," he said quietly.

A pause.

"You said your son's name is Bo?"

Kazimir lifted his brows, but smiled a little. It seemed like Bobby had been eavesdropping, but Kazimir didn't mind. It wasn't like they'd been whispering, and he had a feeling Bobby hadn't slept and would've overheard.

"Yeah," he said. He pulled out his wallet again and offered it to Bobby as a little picture flip-book (if you ignored the ID cards and credit cards on the sides and whatnot). "You can look if you want."

Bobby took the wallet, his brow furrowing. He stared for a long time, going through each picture with a deepening frown.

Kazimir watched as Bobby's expression changed, and his expression started to mirror the boy's without knowing.

"You okay, kid?"