savetheearth | (no subject)

who: Bill and Phillip
what: Phillip flat out refused to go to school. Since his normal babysitter is also in school and his parents can't really skip out on work, Grandpa comes to keep an eye on him...
when: March 31st
where: Phillip's house
warnings: so much sadness

Phillip's parents were both concerned that Phillip, usually more than happy to go to school and see his friends and do everything ever, just plain refused to get up this morning. He wasn't sick, just uncharacteristically melancholy, and unwilling to tell them exactly what was wrong. The inclination was to think maybe this was just the start of what they were going to have to deal with when he got into middle school, but... whatever it was, it was severe enough that he wasn't budging.

Neither of them could really skip out on work, though, so his mother called her father and asked if he'd be able to come over and watch Phillip for the day, and maybe find out just what was wrong with him. By the time Bill arrives, she's already running late so she just gives him a quick hug and a thank you before she has to go. Phillip, meanwhile, is still in bed, sheets pulled over his head and curled up underneath the covers.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

And on receiving the call to babysit with the reasoning, Bill picked up a crawl of misgiving that got much nastier and deeper-seated the closer he came to his daughter's family's house.

He'd seen Phillip uncharacteristically down earlier this month. Somewhere on the drive he began pinning and blame-slinging pre-emptively. It has to do with All This. Stress, and danger, and terrible visions, and so many things a perfectly world-eager kid shouldn't have wearing them down, but, well, blame-slinging's is, again, pre-emptive, and targeting this whole mess they're in takes the problem right to something any one or handful of them is helpless attempting to take anything up with.

The best thing he can try to do, he knows, is offer security. If he can and what it's from remains to be sussed out. From there's another "if", but one step at a time.

He enters the house. Pauses, looks around, to see if Phillip's anywhere immediately in sight, and stays put to listen.

Hears nothing, and heads, still fairly quietly, over to his room.

Raises a hand up to the side of the door, and knocks on the frame.

Phillip wasn't quite as down as he was yesterday- his talk with Matt and the assurance that the older boy didn't hate him for what had happened in their past lives had made him feel a lot better. But he still had to deal with the fact that he wasn't just some scary looking thing; he'd been something bad enough to warrant someone sacrificing their life to seal him away forever.

He's with Matt on this one- should either of them even be here if that's what happened?

When he hears the knock, he lifts his head a little bit from under his blanket and makes some sort of noise to indicate that he's still there before promptly burrowing under his comforter again. He doesn't want to come out right now.

That's acknowledgement, obviously, but it's not much.

"Phillip, it's me. Grandpa."

He projects it through the door, with an amount of reservation. He's hoping for at least one actual word in response, but doesn't count on one.

Phillip peers out a little bit of his blankets, not sure how to feel about this. On the one hand, Grandpa knew about the network, so he could talk to him. And... he was Grandpa. But on the other hand, even if Matt doesn't hate him for what happened, he doesn't want to risk that happening with anyone else.

So the little boy winds up not saying a word, and there will just be a lump under the blankets should Bill decide to come in and investigate.

Bill's certainly not going to burst on into it - but that's that.

He gives a couple of courtesy beats in which for Phillip to speak up. Some sort of "leave me alone" would do just as well as anything else - all it'd decide would be whether or not he's going in and whether he'll need to try talking to him through the door.

And then he opens the door - steadily, about one feet, two, and then about halfway.

And he addresses the lump under the covers on the bed.

"Hey," he tries.

Oh. Shoot. Phillip was kind of hoping he'd just leave, without him actually have to say that. But now he's in here and Phillip still doesn't want to talk about. He will mumble a 'hi' that barely makes it out of his mini-fort, curling tighter into himself. He doesn't think that's going to make Grandpa go away, either, but he honestly has no idea what to do. Even if he wanted to talk about it, how would he? He'll probably just wind up crying again, and he doesn't want to.

Well - there we go. That was a response.

Bill stays put in the doorway. He watches the lump under the blankets shrink on itself.

He tests for another response by asking the stupidest of questions.

"You okay, Phillip?"

He's got the self-awareness for it to keep unlifted and quick. It's not about the answer - it is, again, about getting another one.

"Yeah." It's muffled and... pretty clearly a lie, just judging from Phillip's behavior and current position, but he's pretty sure that's what you're supposed to say even if you're not actually ok. He feels a strong wave of sadness well up inside him again now that someone else is in the room, and he barely manages to stifle the beginnings of a choked cry into his pillow.

"That's good."

Clearly a lie, it is. Still, it's the "something" he was hoping to hear.

He keeps watching the spot Phillip's occupying on the bed. Deems it time to keep going in deeper.

Invites himself in through the doorway, turns one way and takes a couple of steps along the wall, and comes to settle in the nearest corner.

"Did something happen, or...?"

The "or" is drawn-out but inflects like a question. A flat yes or no or one-or-the-other isn't going to tell or reassure him anything. But again, feeling the way along to getting trusted with one bit at a time.

There's a long silence after the question, Phillip still curled up but thinking. He knows he's not a very good liar (which maybe someone should point out that since he's a good actor, he probably could be), but...

Finally, Phillip peeks out a little from under the covers, looking up at his grandfather and clearly quite miserable. "...You won't tell mom and dad, right?" he ventures quietly. He doesn't want them to know he's Numbered.

He raises a brow.

This is promising, if in an ominous sense.

Gets his response ready, and shakes his head, keeps the sounds short and flat. "'Course not, Phil."

After another hesitant moment, Phillip pulls enough of the blankets off his head so he can talk to his grandfather. But he's still kind of burrowed in the comforter.

The little boy bites his lip, trying to figure out how to say this. "...I got an Echo," he starts, carefully- he doesn't want to get banned from the network before of this, "And, um... I was apparently something really bad. And I know I don't have to be it or anything, but..." It was still really scary.

A tilt of his head up when Phillip comes partly out of his nestling. Follows that with a soft nod. Go on...

His stance locks and freezes when Phillip does.

He was apparently something really bad. That thing which he turned into in March was a really bad something; he knew in that flash of a "memory" of looking right into some masklike white face on seeing it that the creature in said memory, at least, had also been something really bad.

"No, no, but -- hang on." It's unease that has that vibrating forwards, wedging into the space - then falls flat, muffled and softer again - "What do you mean, 'bad'? Like..." It picks up an edge again, in spite of himself, again out of a level of discomfort, this time at himself - he doesn't want Phillip to go back to or overthink this but it's got to be talked through, if remotely possible... "It was a monster. Or... was it something that it did?"

Something more specific than being a looming death beast, by all he knows!

The tone very nearly makes Phillip retreat back under his covers. He doesn't want his grandfather to hate him. It's actually very important to him that no one hates him, especially the people he likes. So while he pulls into himself a little, it's a triumph that he doesn't just refuse to talk about this anymore.

"I don't know," he says, quietly. Well... actually, he kind of does. "I mean, I don't remember. But what happened was Matt said he had to act as a seal so the world wouldn't end, and... I was the thing he sealed. So I guess that means I..."

He doesn't want to say it, but the meaning should be clear. He was supposed to be the thing to end the world.