Martin stops cold, staring up at Mr. Keane when he says years, coming over all hot and cold at once like he's going to be sick. He can't, he can't just disappear. Mum needs him. He can't turn out like dad.
But there's nothing he can think to say, and what's worse, it seems like John is stuck too. Martin glances over and sees him clutching the clothes he's collected, speechless. And he sees, with a terrible jolt, that he looks like he's about to cry.
At first that feels horrible. John's been so clever and brave this whole time, and now it's not enough, and he's scared, too. But then Martin thinks, why shouldn't he be scared? Why should he have to be the one who pulls Martin along with him, who asks all the right questions? And Martin knows, just like he has to be strong for mum, he has to be strong now, too. It's his turn.
"W-well," he starts, wishing he could stop his voice from trembling, "if you're not going to leave us here, then... where are we supposed to go?"
He wants to argue that they can't possibly stay here for years, but maybe he and John can figure that out together when they've both had time to put their heads together. For now, they'll have to be practical. Little steps.
"That flat where we woke up," he says, a bit dubious even as the idea strikes him, "that wasn't supposed to be our new home or something, was it?"
He doesn't wait for Mr. Keane to answer before pushing ahead, as though he needs to get everything out at once before he loses his nerve: "Also," he says a bit sternly, nudging a bit closer to John, not quite brave enough to touch him directly, "where can we get changed?"
no subject
But there's nothing he can think to say, and what's worse, it seems like John is stuck too. Martin glances over and sees him clutching the clothes he's collected, speechless. And he sees, with a terrible jolt, that he looks like he's about to cry.
At first that feels horrible. John's been so clever and brave this whole time, and now it's not enough, and he's scared, too. But then Martin thinks, why shouldn't he be scared? Why should he have to be the one who pulls Martin along with him, who asks all the right questions? And Martin knows, just like he has to be strong for mum, he has to be strong now, too. It's his turn.
"W-well," he starts, wishing he could stop his voice from trembling, "if you're not going to leave us here, then... where are we supposed to go?"
He wants to argue that they can't possibly stay here for years, but maybe he and John can figure that out together when they've both had time to put their heads together. For now, they'll have to be practical. Little steps.
"That flat where we woke up," he says, a bit dubious even as the idea strikes him, "that wasn't supposed to be our new home or something, was it?"
He doesn't wait for Mr. Keane to answer before pushing ahead, as though he needs to get everything out at once before he loses his nerve: "Also," he says a bit sternly, nudging a bit closer to John, not quite brave enough to touch him directly, "where can we get changed?"