What Happened in Winter [boyxboy]

Chapter Six

Craft POV

"What do you want for dinner?" Craft asked his mom. She was curled up on the couch, an old and tattered book in her hand. Ms. Johnson was an avid reader, so avid in fact that she didn't have much time for anything else. Her time was spent going to book clubs, book signing events, she even wrote her own stories. But, none of it made any money. Craft's father's job was to make the money, and he definitely did, working as a CEO for a pastry company. It was all a passionate hobby she had picked up after Jayson had died. He had been her son's most beloved friend and he had practically lived at Craft's house. Craft's mom had even gotten close with Grey and Jay's mom. When Greyson was old enough, he started tagging along with the two older boys. Greyson was always "tagging along," never taking the lead for himself. When Jayson died, it seemed like Greyson had no motivation to visit Craft like he used to.

Without turning away from her book, Craft's mom said, "I bought stuff for spaghetti. Is that okay with you?"

Craft's mother hardly ever meant anything she said. "I bought the stuff" meant that she had the groceries delivered to the house, and "Is that okay with you?" Wasn't really a question. Craft would make it and eat it, or neither of them would. His mother was like Greyson in that way, dependent on other people to do things for him.

'God, I really need to stop thinking about Greyson like that. He can't help it. His brother is dead,' Craft chastised himself. But, a little voice inside him reared it's ugly head and whispered, "Ah, but your first love died that day, too."

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Craft had just finished draining the noodles for the spaghetti when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and read the caller ID, confusion striking him.

He pressed the talk button. "Hello?" He said.

"Craft... can we talk?" Greyson sounded like he had been crying.

Craft wiped his hands on a lime green kitchen towel, looking over at his mom. She was still completely lost in her book. "Yeah. I mean, yes, of course," Craft responded. He opened the back door and slipped out quietly, though it didn't make much of a difference. His mother was as blind to the world as always.

"Is everything okay?" Craft asked. There was a crinkly silence on the other end of the phone.

"No," Greyson squeaked finally. "I had a nightmare."

"The same one?"

"Mhm," Greyson said, his voice wobbly from holding back tears. "He just died so fast, Craft. You close your eyes and you miss it. But, I didn't close my eyes. I saw it."

Craft felt his world shift under his feet. He could only imagine what Greyson saw that day when Jayson was murdered in cold blood, defending his brother from his bullies. The kid that killed Jayson was found drenched in blood, cowering in an alley near the school. He apparently confessed to bullying Greyson for weeks prior to the murder, and he did confess to killing Jayson, but he swore he didn't kill the other boy at the scene. Greyson told the police that both boys had been killed by his bully. He told them the suspect and his friend were hitting Greyson and cutting him with a knife, when Jayson showed up, trying to fight the bullies. That's when the suspect pulled out a gun and killed Jayson. The suspect's friend tried to stop him, so he turned around and shot him in the head. Realizing what he had done and had no more ammunition, the suspect abandoned the murder weapon and ran. This was also how Greyson had explained it to him.

"I know you saw it," Craft said lamely. There was silence on the other end.

Greyson cleared his throat and said, "I should probably get going... I have some things I have to do."

Before Craft could get a word in, the other end went dead, a stagnant beeping in his right ear.

River POV

He tip-toed through his parent's apartment door like a thief. This place would never be his home.

"Sweetheart? Is that you?" His mother's quiet voice echoed down the hallway, coming from her and her husband's room. River tapped his knuckles against the wall next to him three times, signaling that it was her son. River and his mom had come up with that tap when she had married that monster. This was to ease River's mother's anxiety; so she knew the person that just came in wasn't going to beat her senseless.

Magnolia Tollis-Sherman was a tiny woman, with the same black hair, fair skin, and round blue eyes. Her face was thin and there was a welt rising up on her cheekbone. River rushed over and cradled his mother's face in his hands, his eyes analyzing every bump, cut, and crease. There was already a bruise healing above her left eye from the last time her husband had struck her.

"Is he here?" River murmured, already moving to check every visible place his step-father could enter from.

"No," Magnolia said, looking down. "He kept getting angrier and angrier at dinner, wondering why you weren't here... he thought you were doing those things again..." his mother's eyes turned to liquid and her bottom lip trembled.

"This is all my fault," River said, shaking his head.

"Baby, no," his mother cried, wrapping her arms around her son. "You know I love you and support you no matter what. You'll get out of here and move away and fall in love." She smiled wistfully at that, her eyes bittersweet.

"Mama, you know I'm never leaving without you or Willow. You two are coming with me."

"I'm not going to agree or disagree. But, River, if you decide to take us with you, there won't be any words to describe how grateful we both will be," she said, her eyes crying without shedding a tear. You learned how to do that in the Sherman household.

"I'm gonna go check up on Willow," River said, pulling himself from his mother's embrace. She smiled up at him and let him pass.

Willow's room wasn't like a typical little girl's room. The walls were a sage green and there were murals painted in all spaces of the room. The murals consisted of trees, vines, castles, mountains. The ceiling was plastered with dozens of plastic glow-in-the-dark stars. Two towering bookshelves stood on either side of her bed. She was fast asleep, a sketch pad in front of her.

'You're the weirdest child I've ever met,' River thought, sitting at the foot of his little sister's bed. 'But, you're also the smartest. And the cutest.' He patted her tiny hand that still gripped a graphite pencil.

"Wake up, Worm," River said softly. "Worm" was a nickname River had come up with for Willow when she started reading religiously, like a full-blown bookworm. She was already reading at a 12th grade reading level and she was only five. Once she got into Kindergarten, she would definitely skip one, maybe two grades. She didn't deserve to live in a house where she watched her father beat her mother and brother.

Willow opened her big mismatched eyes. She had heterochromia, one eye a deep brown and the other was the iconic Tollis blue. She smiled immediately and threw her tiny arms around her older brother.

"I didn't think I would get to see you tonight!" Willow beamed. Her smile fell as she touched River's neck with her fingertips, discovering the hand shaped bruises on his neck. Her eyebrows drew together. She dint miss anything. "What's this? Don't lie. I don't like lies." She said seriously. She was also the most serious kid River had ever met.

"I just got in a fight at school. That's all. You should see him," River laughed, "I kicked his ass."

Willow rolled her eyes and heaved a deep, dramatic sigh. "It's always fighting with you. And watch your mouth, Giggles." For obvious reasons, Willow had given River the nickname Giggles. It made light of an embarrassing and sometimes scary reflex that plagued River. He always laughed at the wrong times; a severe fit of laughter resulted in hyperventilation and could potentially asphyxiate him.

"Forgive me, forgive me. I'll try harder not to fight anymore," River droned, waving his hand in the air.

"Promise?" Willow lifted her tiny pinky, her eyes pleading. River looped his pinky with here's and they both squeezed.

"Promise," River replied.