The boy has been hiding under the bed for almost two full days now. You try to stay with him in the room for long stretches, to make him feel a bit safer, though you know the only thing that can really solve that is his father coming home.
You've tried to make him comfortable. You brought the TV in, tuned it to the channel that shows his favorite show, played him movies. You slid coloring books under the bed, and sippy cups full of water, plates of food. You leave periodically so that he'll run to the bathroom, or to get a toy he's missing. The dog spends most of his time under the bed with the boy, and you make sure he's fed as well. Eventually you coax him out from under the bed as well for a walk, but as soon as you get back, he goes right back to the boy again.
You don't stray far. The only time you leave the apartment is to walk the dog. There are enough supplies in the cupboard for a few more days before you'll need to make a grocery run. You sit in the room with the boy, and read. When the dog finally begins to calm to your presence, you lay on the floor across from the boy and tell him a story.
When you see him begin to grow drowsy, his eyelids dropping low, you slide him a blanket. You wish he'd stay out from under the bed long enough to take a bath and change clothes, but his parents will be home soon. What's most important is keeping him comfortable, just until they're back.
He wraps the blanket around himself, shrugging into it and curling up down there. The dog curls close to his side. You watch them, for a moment. This boy, he's likely the closest thing to a son you're ever going to have. You're not foolish enough to think there's some sort of idyllic end to your road, with a family, kids. That possibility passed with the person you wanted to make that kind of life with.
The boy under the bed looks a little like an angel. Cliched thought, that, but nothing looks closer to holy innocence than a child, you suppose. You can't help but hope that his life takes a different path than yours, than his parents'. Even as he huddles from fear and the pain of separation under the bed with his dog, you hope he never sees the things you've seen, or does any of the things you've done. Someone, after all, should be happy.