TWH: Word Prompt Challenges

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For this prompt we dive into the world of Unsettled.

Where are your boys? 
At home, waiting. 
Somewhere waiting. 
Somewhere waiting for you.

At Tom's home. Waiting.

That amendment puts a stop to the sing-song tune in your head.

It's a distinction that still stings, sometimes, but a distinction that must be made. Some days it's more a relief than a sore spot. Some days you can't help but be grateful for the fact that you have a place all your own. Yours and Max's.

Some days it's easier to ignore that part of your combined history, the necessity for you and Tom to live in separate houses. And the reasons? The reasons you don't want to focus on because that tends to reinforce the knots tying you to memories you're trying to leave in the past.

Except that you can't ignore what happened. Ignoring it just means you're opening yourself up to a possible repetition of events. Even with Tom swearing up and down it'll never happen again. That he won't risk a life with you, a life with his son.

You start again with the song in your head, trying to force the negative thoughts out of your mind.

Where are your boys? 
At home, waiting.
Somewhere, waiting.
At home, waiting for you.

Father and son are on their stomachs, laying cross-ways on Max's bed, both peering beneath. Max is only halfway on the bed. Even with Tom's arm securing him to the spot, Max has one leg kicked up in the air dramatically. You assume he thinks it's for balance as he holds the sheet so they can see beneath the piece of furniture.

Tom looks up as you enter the bedroom, performing a half push-up to partially lift his shoulders as he grins a greeting to you. "Hullo, love."

You return his smile as best you can. If you show any hint of the thoughts that had occupied you on the way over he'll know. You don't want to drag him down memory lane, yet again. "What's this, then?"

Max wiggles, trying to right himself like his father, but only managing to nearly slip off the bed entirely. He settles for turning onto his side, his legs thrown over the lower part of Tom's back, offering you a toothsome response similar to his father's. "We're monster hunting!"

"Oh." You nod, briefly pausing to pull your lower lip between your teeth before loosing it again, unsure if you should be taking this seriously or not. "Find anything under there?"

"No. No monsters here." Max wrinkles up his forehead, frowning deeply as he waves his hands in the air. He huffs and does a full body flop, trusting that his father won't let him fall over the side of the twin bed, precariously perched as they both are. "None anywhere."

Wincing from the kick to his kidneys Tom shifts onto his side as well before moving to sit up on the bed, careful to keep a eye on the wiggle-worm beside him. He silently mouths to you: HELP ME OUT HERE.

Both of them are a sight - flushed, their hair wild from hanging upside down for however long before you arrived. Have they been monster hunting all day? "Well, munchkin," you shake your head in sympathy, offering Tom a shrug in return. He can hardly be surprised by Max's theatrics. He's half the reason for them. You take a cue from the dinosaurs littering the floor. "Maybe Rex scared all the monsters away?"

While Max mulls over your suggestion Tom motions for you to come closer. "I think we just need a little help searching."

At the suggestion, Max starts nodding furiously. How can you resist that? "Mmm. Looks clear to me." You laugh, bending slightly as you approach, readying to kneel down near the edge of the bed.

You have every intention of paying a compliment to the thoroughness of your pair of monster hunters, but Max sits up and throws his arms out as far as he can stretch, eyes wide, "Careful! The monsters will get your feet!"

Of course the only thing to do is to stop your advance just a few steps shy of being able to join them. You freeze, playing a mini-game of Red Light, Green Light with your son, all the while wondering just what the pair of them had for lunch today or for snacks between meals. You stage whisper to Max, "I thought you said you couldn't find any."

Already the master of rolling his eyes, he gives you a pint-sized look of exasperation, "Muuuuum. Just cause you don't see them –" he takes a big breath, "doesn't mean they're not there."

Tom, big help that he is, sits with his shoulders shaking as he tries to contain his laughter. Watching him struggle doesn't do you any favors in that department. You blink, shaking your head at your son, "Ok then, munchkin. You'll have to show me where to step. Tell me where it's safe."