A Burning Hunger (II/III AU)

Floor Nine.

The hotel was washed over in clashing red and blue lights, sirens blaring in the once-silent sunrise. OJ, who was in obvious distress, firmly stood by his (not so) faultless hotel as police questioned many residents; including the Cherries.

OJ wasn't fond of them interviewing the youngins, but he wasn't in the position to outrule the law.

Standing within arms reach, OJ ruefully watched over the scene before him; his mind stirring into a sludge of confusion, and most prominent, great fear. The suspected attacker is amongst the residents he calls companions, friends with history (at best). Who's to say they'll stop their revenge slaughter for something merely described as friendship? Now with Fan's passing, OJ is beginning to doubt Tissue's expected return. It had been nearly a month since he had been spotted.

"OJ, OJ?" A skidish voice called out, grabbing the manager's attention.

"Yes, Paper?" He reluctantly sighed, turning to face his employee. "What is it? And please— is it important?" To this, Paper nodded.

"I want you to know everything will be fine. The police are getting more hands-on with the case and I-I'm sure they'll clear everything up."

"I appreciate the comfort but this is really not the time to tell me this. I want suspects. Answers. Not what you're telling me." OJ replied sternly.

"Look, OJ, " Papers tone shifted into one of understanding, "I know this is stressful, but we need to stay strong. For us, for them." Paper gestured towards the Cherries, who were ending their discussion with the officers. OJ's gaze dimmed, his body relaxing with an exhale.

"I'm trying, Paper. This situation hasn't even crossed my mind and I— I don't know how to deal with it. So please, just give me time to figure this all out." OJ said gently, his brows knitting.

"I'm here for you, every step of the way." He smiled, placing a hand on the manager's shoulder. "You have both I and the police on your side."

OJ couldn't help but smile, albeit bitterly. "Thank you, Paper. Don't know what I'd do without you, buddy."

"Me too."

It wasn't long until the Cherries shuffled over, their eyes puffy from tears. At the sight, both Paper and OJ's smiles vanished into a concerned frown. The manager kneeled down, drying their wet eyes with his thumbs. "You are safe with me, Cherries." He soothed, to which the twins pulled him into a crushing embrace.

"Then why am I so scared?" One of them croaked, their voice breaking into fits of hushed cries.

"Shh, shh," OJ, admittedly, wasn't keen on dishing out comfort (especially physical), but he had to try. It hurt to see tears in the children's eyes. "You will be okay, I won't let anyone hurt you."

The second twin sniffled, "What about anything?"

OJ replied, "Not even that." With that said, he carefully broke the hug and held out his pinkie. "I promise." The twins ridded their last tears, mustering up a smile, and interlocked their finger with his.

"Please keep that promise.." The twins sniffled, smiling weakly.

He nodded, "Cross my heart and hope to–"

"Don't say that."

***

Test Tube sat in the ambulance, a thick blanket weighing down her shoulders. The scientist looks straight ahead, eyes glossy and tinted red, her mind the void of thought. For a moment, she slid off her glasses, wiping them with her coat's sleeve. The once pristine lab attire is now reduced to nothing more than a tissue.