and i know that none of it matters

“Erebos,” he repeats nearly thoughtfully, looking to you before turning back to the other boy, grinning a sheepish, unsure little grin, not wanting to outwardly admit how much he enjoys being included in adult conversation. “Ama said that you’re her friend too. I was beginning to think that she had made everyone up cause I’ve never seen them. Did you know that she doesn’t allow me to talk to strangers, or even leave—“  a soft shh sound leaves you, enough to interrupt his train of thought and illicit an eye roll. You smile stiffly, despite the shard his impatience, unhappiness, drives in to your heart. You had hoped it would be enough to tell him that all of your worry, all of your need to keep him close and safe is for his protection, his well-being, but the lesson, even after what feels like months, seemingly has not sunk in. “He asked you a question baby.” You press your nose to his head in encouragement (as if he needs any of that—from the moment that Erebos had given him the time of day, he has seemingly forgotten how to be shy). “Oh.” He giggles, ducking away from your touch before standing up straighter than he had before, proudly holding his little head up. “I’m Etziel.”

But as you look back to the other boy, something has changed. His gaze is sharp, harsh, different despite the smile and you bend against it, ears tilting back in apprehension. You move to shield your son, gather him and his withering glare, all of his innocent lack of understanding, behind you, out of instinct. It pains you to doubt him so, knowing that, for all the things that he may have kept from you, all the anger that he may harbor, all of your doubt of how well you know him, he does not possess the malice to take it out on a child. You will not apologize for it, despite the guilt that has nestled itself within the shadow of your heart, will not offer explanation when none should be given for a mother’s love. Surely, he can understand as much, even if he is only a boy himself; surely he can forgive you without the need to plead for it, even just this once.

For moments it is silent, your muscles tense and beginning to ache as he simply stands, all of the amicability he had shown to Etziel diminished into the folds of something darker, something that you can only guess to be anger. Your boy has grown restless beside you, peeking around your shoulder to catch glances of the man that had tried to befriend him, his curiosity no doubt bubbling uncontrollably with each passing second, until, finally, something gives. ‘It’s not for a child’s ears.’

You inhale against the gravity of the words, suddenly understanding just how serious, how important, it is to him. Slowly, your body relaxes as you turn to Etziel, trying your best to smile, trying your best to keep him from the same realization that you have come to. “Why don’t you go build a snow-creature like I showed you, hm?” Your smile grows, if only for his sake, nose pointing to a near-by build up of snow (something, as Etziel has always been keen to notice, that there is no shortage of). His eyes narrow ever so slightly and you lean towards him, your tone growing quietly playful, acting as if what you are about to say is a secret that should be known between only the two of you. “I promise we’ll come see it when it’s done, and then we can smash it together if you want.” The concept of enjoying smashing something one worked to create is lost on you, but the boy obediently bounds towards your selected choice of snow, conveniently near enough to keep a very close eye on him. Your skin-deep humor is lost as you turn once more to Erebos, struggling (and failing) to find anything to say when you feel as if you have said entirely too much.

as long as i'm inside this dream with you