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Misha loved to lay on his Mama's chest.
His head under her chin and his ear pressed close listening to her heart go thump-thump thump-thump…
He loved it.
Especially when her gentle arms were holding him close to her as she quietly sung into his ear and her fingers ran though his hair.
♫ Спи, младенец мой прекрасный,
Баюшки-баю. ♫
Her soft and gentle voice droned out the loud noises from coming from outside of their apartment.
♫ Тихо смотрит месяц ясный
В колыбель твою. ♫
Misha felt his eyes get heavy, drooping further down with each word his Mama sang. Her finger tips scratched just right on his scalp.
His Mama's voice sounded sadder then it usually did, but Misha was so tired and his eyes were so so heavy.
♫ Стану сказывать я сказки,
Песенку спою;
Ты ж дремли, закрывши глазки,
Баюшки-баю. ♫
He felt him self drift away, sleep taking over and pulling him in.
The last thing he heard was his Mama's shaking voice as she sang.
♫ Баюшки-баю. ♫
…
He felt someone moving him, he pushed closer to his Mama.
Her arms held him close but he felt her body moving.
He heard the sharp sound of the door unlocking and then the loud sound traffic.
The rough wind hit him hard, his hair moved with it.
He let out a whimper at the feeling, pushing even closer to her.
"Shh… you're okay, Mishka. Go back to sleep." She shushed, it sounded like she had something stuck in her throat.
The soothing smell of her perfume comforted him as he felt his eyes droop again, sleep pulled him under again.
…
When he opened his eyes again he realized that he wasn't at home.
It was very dark, not one single lamp was on.
"Huh?" He huffed, sitting up.
The rough material of the couch scratched his palm.
He glanced around, it looked like he was at his Bubbe and Zaide's house. His brow furrowed in confusion.
"Mama?" His tiny voice echoed throughout the large living room.
He was met with almost absolute silence, only sound that in the room was the ticking of the big grandfather clock.
"M–Mama?" He stuttered out, a little louder than before but there was no response.
He felt a lump starting to form in his throat, tears welling up in his eyes.
"Mama?!" He yelled, a sob tearing out of his little chest.
Hot tears spilled over and down his cheek.
Where's Mama?
Why was it so dark?
Where was his Bubbe? Or his Zaide?
His breath hitched as sob after sob ripped it's way out of him, his whole body shaking with them.
A lamp turned on and lit up behind him, he turned around. It came from up the stairs.
He heard someone walk down the creaky stairs and he caught a glimpse of his Bubbe's slipper covered foot.
"Bubbe!" He sobbed.
The creaking of the stairs increased as his grandmother rushed down, "Mishka?" She asked, confusion lace in her voice. "Why are you here? Where's your Mama, huh?"
He shook his head furiously, "Bubbe!" He cried out.
She scooped him up from the couch and held him close, shushing softly.
It had been quite difficult for little Misha to understand why his mother had just left him in the middle of the night at his grandparents house.
He spent many nights crying out for his Mama in his sleep.
When that happens his Bubbe would come in and scoop him up and put him close to her her chest, just like his Mama did.
She rested her chin on top his head, she would smooth one hand back and forth on his back and pet his hair back as she softly muttered comforting words in Yiddish and Russian.
He couldn't register a thing she said.
His chest hurt too much.
It was like a big angry lump in stomach that grew larger and larger, pressed it's way up to his throat.
He cried and cried, his whole body shook.
"Shh… Mishka, it's okay."
"Mama–ah!" He sobbed into her chest.
She shushed him and scooted down so that she could lay down on the bed, "Let's try to go back to sleep, мальчик-зайчик.Little bunny boy." She said and laid down, carefully bringing him with as she held onto him.
Misha just sobbed, snot beginning to run from his nose and into her sleep shirt.
His grandmother kissed to top his head and began to hum a song.
It was the same song his Mama had sung to him the night she left him and he began to cry harder.
"…I want Mama." He wailed softly, clutching his grandmother's shirt.
"Shh., shh…" She shushed, continuing to hum as she covered them with a blanket. Her gentle hand caressed his back softly over the thick fabric.
Oh what he would do to lay on his Bubbe's chest and have her run her finger through his hair, he thought to himself as he stood by the end of her casket.
The rabbi had left him alone for a moment to say goodbye before the service.
But staring at the sleek wooden casket made it felt more real than it ever had before.
His grandmother was gone.
Robby felt his eyes well up, he pinched the bridge of his nose trying to keep the tears at bay.
He cleared his throat and shook his head lightly to shake the sorrow off.
Of course it didn't work, but it was worth a try.
With wary steps he stepped closer to the casket, running his hand gingerly over the lid.
A lump was lodged in his throat, he tried to swallow past it but found it more and more difficult.
Hesitantly, he laid his body carefully over the casket right where her chest would be, his kippah fell off his head onto the casket.
Robby took a shaky breath in then out, the tears in his eyes welled over and ran down his face sideways over his nose then dropped down on the wooden surface.
If he strained his ears he could almost hear his grandmother's voice.
"Не плачь, мой Мишка.""Don't cry, my Mishka"
Robby closed his eyes, imagining her fingers running through his hair and the steady beat of her heart under his ear and her warm embrace as she held him tightly against her chest.
But there was no fingers running thought his hair, no steady heartbeat under his ear or warm embrace… just cold wood against his warm wet cheek.
A soft sob ripped out of his throat.
He was all alone now…
His Zaide had died years ago and now his Bubbe was gone.
He was the last Robinavitch.
Well there was his mother… but Robby didn't know where she was and honestly he didn't care. She couldn't even bother to show up for her father's funeral so why would he expect her to show for her mother's?
He gripped the edge of the casket like he used to grip his grandmother's shirt when she held him.
He heard the door open, soft steps echoed thought the small room.
A steady hand gripped his shoulder.
"It's time, Michael." His rabbi said in a low voice.
Robby's breath hitched as he tried to steady it, he nodded. Carefully he straightened up, picking up his kippah and gripped it tightly.
He cleared his throat and roughly wiped away the tears from his face.
He caressed his hand over the casket.
"Goodbye, Bubbe…" He muttered, his voice was thick with tears.
Robby sat on his couch as Jack sat opposite him on the coffee table as he gently cleaned Robby's arms.
He used a antiseptic wipe to carefully wipe each of the red and irradiated marks Robby's fingernails had left.
Robby bit his lower lip, gnawing on it. A big lump was stuck in his throat, he had tried to get to ease up but it was stubborn.
He'd had a panic attack and had in well… panic clawed at his arms.
Luckily he had somehow gotten the thought to call Jack for help and he had come running.
He had calmed him down and helped him stop himself from doing anymore damage to his arms, had carefully sat him down on the couch and now here they where.
Jack began to wrap his arm up gently and then got started on the other arm.
Robby hugged his gauze covered arm around his middle and rocked slightly back and forth, trying to sooth himself.
His breath was still a little uneven and airy.
"You know, when I have a panic attack I do something that brings me comfort." Jack muttered, wiping thoroughly around all the marks, "I ask for a hug if there's someone around. Sometimes I curl up on the couch and watch a corny movie." He explained before glancing up at Robby, "What brings you comfort?"
The thought of his mother's and his grandmother's embrace flashed in his head.
It had been so long since someone had held him like that.
He felt the lump in his throat grow, he tried to clear his throat.
"I… erm, like to be held." He whispered, his voice all hoarse from crying earlier. It felt scary to say it out loud but also kind of freeing.
Jack hummed.
"Held?" He asked while wrapping up the other arm.
Robby nodded, "Umm… yea' close. L–Like my head pressed against someone's chest." He explained.
"Okay." Jack mumbled, gently laying Robby's arm down, "I'll get you some water then I'll hold you, okay?" He raised his eyebrows.
Robby felt his chin quiver.
Was it really that simple?
He gave Jack a faint nod.
The other man patted his arm lightly before standing up and moving towards the kitchen. Robby watched him the whole time, when he couldn't see him anymore he leaned his head back against the backrest of the couch and closed his eyes with a sigh.
"Here."
He opened his eyes and saw that Jack was back, holding out a big glass of water.
That was quick .
"C'mon, drink up." Jack said with a warm smile.
Robby accepted the glass with jittery hands, Jack helped him get a good grip before letting go.
He put the glass to his lips and gulped down almost half of it, swallowing roughly as he gave the glass back.
Jack took it from him and put it on the coffee table, he then plopped down on the other end of the couch with a grunt.
With practiced ease he folded up his pant leg and clicked the release valve on his leg, it hissed almost silently.
He pulled his prosthetic and the liner off, folding the liner and put it in the socket of the leg before leaning the prosthetic on the table.
Jack scooted back and laid down on with his head on the armrest, he looked over at Robby and gave him a small smile.
Robby felt his face flush warm, he fidgeted with his hands in his lap.
The other man gestured with his hand for him to come closer, "C'mon."
Robby sighed but complied without a word, crawling up and laid down onto Jack's chest. He adjusted himself a little before slotting his head right under the other man's chin, pressing his ear flush to his chest.
Thump-thump… thump-thump…
He felt Jack's warm hand caress his back, the fingers on his other hand slipped into Robby's hair right by the nape.
Robby couldn't help but to sigh in bliss.
It had been years since someone held him like this.
He felt the lump in his throat threaten to burst.
Jack's gentle hand carded through his hair as he hummed, it vibrated in his chest and Robby felt it under his cheek.
"It's good?" Jack asked softly.
Robby's eyes quickly welled up, "Y–Yea'…" He muttered into the other man's shirt, his voice cracked. His tears finally broke loose and slowly ran down his face.
"Thank you." He sniffed.
Jack's hand came up and carefully wiped the tears away.
"Shh… it's okay." He shushed lowly, "Just relax, I got you."
Robby pressed his face closer, gripping his hand around Jack's arm. He listened to his steady heartbeat and breathing, slowly finding himself matching his own breath to his.
Before he knew it his eyes began to feel heavy.
And sleep pulled him in, the last thing he heard was a light chuckle from Jack.
…
Robby woke up abruptly with a snort, he furrowed his brows and rubbed his head into his pillow.
His pillow made a soft grunt as he did.
He lifted his head up in confusion and was met with the sight of a newly awake Jack blinking back at him.
His eyes grew wide.
Robby had fallen asleep… on top of Jack.
The other man groaned and placed his hand on Robby's head, pushing it back down to his chest.
"Go back to sleep." He grumbled.
Robby felt his heart beat furiously in his ears.
He glanced down, Jack had lazily pulled a blanket over them.
The morning sun lit the light material of the blanket that it look like it was glowing.
He looked over towards the living room window, the sun peeked through his curtains.
Had they really slept the whole night here?
Their back were really gonna hate them.
But right now… Robby couldn't make himself care.
He nuzzled his face closer into Jack's chest, a content smile spread on his lips.