John remains silent, not trusting his voice and not wanting to burst into messy tears when that wouldn't help anything. He does manage a quick, grateful look towards Martin when he asks the questions John can't, though, about what's going to happen to them. Martin even asks a question that surprises him; John hadn't thought to wonder if the flat where they woke up was meant for them. He isn't sure he believes that, if only because he'd felt so certain that someone else was there, watching them. But it's still a good question.
If this was a story, there would be somewhere that they were supposed to go, or someone who was supposed to help them. And not just by bringing them to the nearest bloody orphanage.
He needs a moment to think, and he needs to feel less stupid, so he decides to get changed before he tries to say anything. He shoulders his way into the bathroom, which looks like one you might find at a school, with a row of stalls along one wall and sinks along the other, and trudges into the first open stall he sees. The pants he was wearing drop to the floor the moment he stops physically holding them up, and he pulls off the tent of a shirt with a quiet huff, then uses it to mop at his face for a moment.
He is not going to make a fuss. He has to be smart.
John lets the shirt drop, then starts to pull on the clothes he picked out. Martin is in the stall just next to his, and he glances down at the other boy's feet before quietly saying, "It doesn't make sense." He sniffs once, then adds, with a hint of indignation, "He didn't even answer your question. About the flat."
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If this was a story, there would be somewhere that they were supposed to go, or someone who was supposed to help them. And not just by bringing them to the nearest bloody orphanage.
He needs a moment to think, and he needs to feel less stupid, so he decides to get changed before he tries to say anything. He shoulders his way into the bathroom, which looks like one you might find at a school, with a row of stalls along one wall and sinks along the other, and trudges into the first open stall he sees. The pants he was wearing drop to the floor the moment he stops physically holding them up, and he pulls off the tent of a shirt with a quiet huff, then uses it to mop at his face for a moment.
He is not going to make a fuss. He has to be smart.
John lets the shirt drop, then starts to pull on the clothes he picked out. Martin is in the stall just next to his, and he glances down at the other boy's feet before quietly saying, "It doesn't make sense." He sniffs once, then adds, with a hint of indignation, "He didn't even answer your question. About the flat."