Chapter Text
Stanley Snyder-Wingfield Jr. is, for all intents and purposes, your average fourteen-year-old high school freshman. Like any other teenager his age, he dealt with the usual challenges of school and attempts at making friends that always seemed to fail, making him quite the loner. He was still a freshly presented Alpha, which didn't help him much to socialise—not like he expected to be anything other than that.
His father, Stanley Snyder-Wingfield, was a renowned and formidable Alpha—a highly respected military officer who held the rank of Colonel and led his own unit with unwavering authority. Among his peers and subordinates, he was recognised as one of the most lethal snipers in the American Army, a legend in his own right. It was from this formidable man that Stanley Jr. inherited his name, as well as the dream to follow in his father's footsteps.
His mother—a title the other disliked—Xeno Snyder-Wingfield was the one who had chosen his name. Apparently, even as a baby, Stanley Jr. had resembled his father far too much for the opportunity to be ignored. From the moment he was born, there was no mistaking whose son he was, a fact that seemed to amuse Xeno more than anything.
Xeno was a prideful Omega, never one to let social expectations define or limit him. Unlike many others who shared his secondary gender, he had never settled into the role people often assumed for Omegas. Instead, he had carved his own path, one that guided him toward the complex field of aerospace engineering. As a distinguished NASA scientist, his work made him well respected, as well as one of the leading minds in this field.
Though the military and science were two vastly different worlds, Xeno and Stanley had always found common ground in one undeniable truth—they were deeply in love. Their love was not a fleeting romance but the kind that had formed long before their careers took them down separate paths.
They were childhood friends first, inseparable from the moment they met. Their friendship had carried them through the awkward years of adolescence, through schoolyard fights, late-night study sessions, and whispered conversations about their dreams for the future. It was only natural that, as they grew older, their feelings deepened into something more than just platonic feelings. By the time they finished high school, they had become sweethearts, a relationship that others either looked up to or envied.
Despite their youth, they never doubted what they felt for each other. Their love was steadfast, unyielding even in the face of uncertainty. So, when the time came, they chose to marry at a young age, ignoring the scepticism of those who warned them that they were too young and that their ambitions would pull them apart.
Xeno and Stanley had never been the ones to let others dictate their lives.
When Stanley Jr. was a child, he had a deep-seated fear of the dark—one that lingered no matter how many scientific explanations his mother provided. Xeno, with his brilliant mind and endless knowledge, would sit him down and carefully explain why there was nothing to fear, detailing how darkness was simply the absence of light and how the brain played tricks when deprived of visual information. But no matter how logical the explanation, Stanley Jr. still found himself shivering under his blankets when the lights went out.
On nights when the fear became too much—after a particularly vivid nightmare or during long, restless hours when sleep refused to come—he would sneak out of his bedroom and make his way to his parents' room. More often than not, it was only his mother who was there, his father away on some mission, stationed halfway across the world.
Xeno's presence, though not traditionally warm, was still reassuring.
He would sit down beside his mother, small hands clutching the edge of the blanket, hesitant to ask for comfort but needing it nonetheless. Xeno, despite being a parent, wasn't what most people would consider affectionate. That doesn't mean he doesn't show affection or give comfort when needed—he just wasn't the kind of Omega who coddled or fretted for no reason.
Instead, his way of comforting Junior came in the form of stories—stories about his father, about the adventures he and Stanley had shared when they were the same age. He would speak of their childhood antics, their high school days, and the moments that had shaped their lives long before Junior had even been born. Father's voice, steady and matter-of-fact, had a way of drawing him in, making the fear fade away little by little until he was asleep next to his mother.
Though Xeno didn't express love in the ways most people expected, Junior never doubted that it was there.
One particular year, when his father returned home and stayed for a few precious months instead of mere weeks, Junior noticed the change in his mother almost instantly. Xeno, usually composed and pragmatic, softened in ways that only became apparent when his bonded mate was near. There was a quiet ease to him, a lightness in his expression that wasn't there when his father was away. He smiled more—just barely—but it was there nonetheless. He laughed more, a rare and quiet sound, and his usual sharp remarks carried less bite and more fondness.
To Junior, it was almost like seeing a different version of his mother, one that existed only when his father was home.
As much as he loved his father and held immense respect for him, the sudden presence of the man he idolized only made one thing clearer—Junior wanted, more than anything, to impress him.
Junior and his father were bound by blood, as a family, but beyond that, there was barely anything else. They hadn't had the time to truly know each other, not in the way that a father and son would. Their relationship was built on scattered moments, brief visits, and news exchanged across continents. In his little years of life, Junior had never experienced what it meant to have his father there for the small, everyday things—to walk him to school, to help him with homework, to teach him how to ride a bike.
And so, in those months when his father was home, Junior tried so hard. He followed him around, eager to listen, to learn—he absorbed every story his father told, memorized the way he carried himself, mimicked his mannerisms in the hopes that he, too, could be strong, composed, and unmoving. He tried to be better, to speak with more confidence, wanting—desperately—to be someone his father could look at with pride.
But admiration alone wasn't enough to close the distance between them. As much as Junior wanted to step into his father's world, he wasn't sure if he had ever truly been invited into it.
In the end, none of it ever seemed to matter. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he worked to impress his father, the outcome was always the same.
His father would leave.
It was an inevitable cycle—his presence, his absence. A few months of shared meals, conversations, and the illusion of a complete family, only to be shattered when duty called again. Junior's progress, all the effort he poured into proving himself, always reset to zero the moment his father turned his back and walked away from them once more.
For the first time in his life, he noticed something he had never seen before—Xeno looking so hurt, so sad.
It wasn't the usual cool detachment or quiet contemplation that Junior had come to associate with his mother. It was something deeper, something raw. A fleeting expression crossed Xeno's face at that moment when Stanley disappeared from their life temporarily.
And Junior hated it.
He hated the way Xeno's shoulders sagged ever so slightly, the way his gaze lingered on the empty space where his father had been as if trying to commit the last image of him to memory.
It was an emotion he never wanted to see on his mother again.
And for the first time, Junior saw that his mother—who always seemed so distant, so unshaken—was not as detached as he appeared. No matter how composed he seemed, no matter how ready he pretended to be for his mate's departure, a part of him still hurt when it happened.
And that realization changed something in Junior.
Because if Xeno, his mother—the strongest person he knew, could feel that kind of sadness—then Junior made a silent vow to himself. He would do everything in his power to make sure Xeno never had to worry about him.
If his father was the one who always left, then Junior would be the one who stayed. He would grow into someone respectable, someone elegant, just like how Xeno always wanted him to be. He would be disciplined, composed, and capable, so that his mother would never have to look at him with concern, never have to wonder if he would be okay. If he couldn't ease the sadness of his father's departure, then at the very least, he could make sure he was never a source of worry himself.
But that promise suddenly became harder to keep when he heard the news—he was going to be an older brother.
The announcement came early that same year, and at barely seven years old, Junior didn't quite understand what that meant. He had no idea how babies worked or how they even got in the world, and he certainly didn't understand what it would mean for him. All he knew was that his mother was suddenly tired more often, and started to get sick and nauseous with something he always brushed off as the flu, but when the flu didn't pass for more than a week, Junior couldn't help but burst into tears at the thought of his mother becoming ill. That was actually the only thing that made Xeno make an appointment with the doctor, and what made him get the news he was expecting again.
It didn't make Junior feel anything, he wasn't even sure how to be the son Xeno wanted yet. How was he supposed to be a good big brother too?
But Xeno was looking forward to the baby, the joy in him seemed to always be present, a quiet but genuine excitement that radiated off of him around their home. Junior had always seen his mother as someone who was strong, calm, and in control, someone who rarely showed vulnerability or true emotion.
Slowly, the idea of being an older brother started to settle into his heart.
He could still remember the moment he learned he wouldn't just be getting one sibling, but two. He couldn't contain his excitement when he first heard the news. Two babies! He had no idea how it had gone from one baby to two, but at that time, it didn't matter to him. He was thrilled, he imagined two little bundles of joy, maybe some extra noise around the house, but also extra love, extra laughter, and a pair of new little people to look after and protect.
That excitement, however, quickly wore off when the twins were born.
From the moment they arrived, the two little shits made their presence known.
It started with the constant crying. Day and night. It didn't matter if they had been fed or changed or rocked to sleep—they would cry.
And cry.
And cry some more.
Their wails echoed through the house like an endless siren. Xeno, usually the picture of calm, looked more worn out than Junior had ever seen him, his usual sharpness dulled by exhaustion. Even with the extra help he got from Grandma—as much as he loathed said help.
Junior, trying to be the responsible big brother, stepped in as much as he was allowed to. He helped with keeping an eye on them, keeping them busy, and the like. Despite Xeno's protests that he didn't need help, that Junior was just a child, and that he didn't need to help with such things, Junior still tried. But no matter what he did, the twins didn't seem to care much. They would still fuss, make noise, and still demand attention in ways that left Junior feeling helpless.
And it didn't stop there.
When they were finally old enough to move around, they began getting their hands on everything. Nothing was safe from their grasp. Junior would find his toys broken, his books torn, and his carefully arranged things upended as the twins toddled around, causing chaos. His room somehow became their own personal playroom.
And it only got worse as they got older.
The twins, once tiny and helpless, only grew more insufferable with each passing day. They were devils, pure and simple, from the moment they were born until the present day.
Helia, the twin who had a slight edge in terms of rationality, who ironically looked a lot like their mother, would sometimes show a flicker of understanding—just enough to make her a little more bearable. She was the quieter one, more prone to thinking before acting. But that didn't mean she was an angel. No, she still had her moments of mischief, but not like her brother had.
Then there was Cobalt. The chaos incarnate—literally! The one who thrived in disorder, who had no interest in rules, limits, or consequences. From the moment his tiny hands could grasp things, he began pulling everything he could reach off tables, breaking things, and generally causing havoc. His energy never seemed to fade, and his need for attention and destruction only grew as he got older.
It was like a daily warzone at home—Junior trying to keep the peace and keep some semblance of order, while Helia and Cobalt tore through the house like a storm. Xeno, exhausted from balancing his duties as a scientist and parent, would step in when he could, but his patience was clearly wearing thin. He'd try to manage them with a level of calm that Junior could only admire, but even Xeno's usual control had its limits.
At first, Junior had tried to step into the role of the responsible older brother, thinking maybe he could help guide them, protect them, be the role model Xeno wanted.
His dream was shattered and cut into bits with no remorse by the creatures he calls his kin.
It wasn't that he hated them. It wasn't that he didn't love his little siblings. Of course, he loved them—he couldn't ever hate them. But sometimes, he too had his limits.
His patience wore thin more often than he wanted to admit, especially on days when the noise seemed endless, when the chaos didn't stop, and the mess piled up faster than he could clean it. But no matter how frustrated he got, no matter how many times he wished for a break from the madness, Junior would never wish them away. He was still their older brother, and he would always do what he could to protect them—even if it felt like he was barely holding it together some days.
"There you are, Junior."
His thoughts were interrupted when Xeno's voice suddenly cut through his inner soliloquy, pulling him back to reality as Junior stepped through the front door, finally home from high school, despite not being mentally present all day.
Looking back at his mother, Junior couldn't help but notice the familiar black lab coat that signified he had important business to attend to. The moment he saw it, he knew what was to follow. His mother wasn't just heading out for another late-night shift; this was something serious and urgent. In moments like this, Xeno was always so poised, so composed, even though Junior could sense the inner turmoil, the weight of personal struggles pressing down on him.
Junior opened his mouth to say something, but before he could even get out a proper greeting, Xeno's voice cut through, carrying both exhaustion and authority. "I need you to watch your brother and sister for the night. Sadly, I've been asked to attend a meeting on short notice, and I didn't have time to find a sitter."
Junior's heart sank. His mind raced, quickly processing what those words meant. Tonight was supposed to be their movie night—the one time where everyone could sit down together, they would all laugh at silly comedies or watch an old action film, no one arguing or stirring up trouble. It had become a sort of sacred tradition in their household, one of the few moments of peace they shared as a family.
"Oh." The word slipped from his lips before he could stop it, his disappointment clear. His scent, a little heavier and sharper than usual, betrayed him before he could even mask it. He hadn't yet fully mastered controlling his emotions or scent as a respectable and elegant Alpha could, and right now, disappointment was a thick cloud around him.
Xeno didn't seem to notice—or at least didn't react to Junior's emotions. Instead, he simply looked at him, his expression steady and supportive. "You can do it, yes?"
The question was almost rhetorical, but it still made Junior pause. The confidence in Xeno's voice, his belief in him, almost made him want to push aside the irritation. He could see the exhaustion behind his eyes, the way he was barely holding it together. He was always so strong, so capable, and in that moment, Junior knew that Xeno had little choice but to rely on him.
Still, he nodded, swallowing the frustration that had risen in his chest. "Yeah, I'll take care of them." The words came out automatically, a reflex more than anything. But then, Father gave him that warm, genuine smile—the kind that made Junior's chest ache a little. It was the same smile he gave him when he did something right, when he was proud of him, and it was enough to pull him back from his darker thoughts.
"There is money on the counter so you can order something to eat," He said, already moving toward the door. "Remember to not stay up late, and make sure your siblings do—"
"—Their homework and chores. Be asleep by 8 pm, latest 9 pm. I know, Father, don't worry about it," Junior interrupted, a bit more sharply than he intended. It wasn't that he didn't mind his mother's reminders—it was just that he said it so many times, almost every time he left him in charge. The routine had become too familiar to Junior to need reminders.
Xeno paused for a brief moment, his eyes softening as he took in Junior's tone. For a split second, he looked like he might say something more, like he had a million things he could offer as advice or a comforting word. But instead, he gave Junior a knowing look, a slight nod of his head.
"Alright then. Don't wait for me. I won't be able to come home until very late."
Junior's heart clenched a little at the finality of his mother's words. It was always like this, the unspoken understanding that time with Father was limited, especially when he was working. It felt like every time his mother came home, there was a constant countdown to when he would leave again.
But before Xeno could turn to leave, Junior found himself speaking without thinking, his voice soft yet steady.
"Be safe, Father."
The words felt almost too simple, too small for the weight he wanted them to carry—but it was all he could manage in that moment. His mother, always so strong, so invincible in his eyes, was heading into something that Junior didn't fully understand, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of worry.
Xeno's face softened at the words, the rarest glimpse of vulnerability slipping through. "Thank you, Stanley." His voice was quieter, the usual authority gone for just a moment, replaced by something more human. He paused before leaving, as if considering something, then added, "I'll see if this Saturday we can visit the shooting range."
Xeno didn't wait for a response. His back was already towards Junior, and without another word, he stepped out, the door clicking shut with a soft, final sound.
It wasn't something they did often, visit the shooting range, but Junior loved every second he got to spend there, even if it was for a few minutes. Xeno only took him there rarely, since he wasn't much interested in the arts of shooting and only tagged along for his son. Junior knows Xeno doesn't like it much, so he never pressed to go. With a sigh, Junior turned toward the living room, steeling himself for the chaos of the twins.
The house was quiet again—too quiet.
This was already a bad sign.
"Helie? Cobie? Where are you guys at?!" He called through the house, his voice echoing off the walls. The silence made him uneasy, sending a chill down his spine.
They better not be in the lab!
Dammit, they were in the lab!!
Helia's muffled voice could be heard just as he reached the door. "—yes, Cobalt, now drop the sodium inside—"
Before she could finish, the door slammed open with a deafening bang, both Helia and Cobalt jumping in shock. "Ek!" They yelped in unison, wide-eyed from the sudden noise.
"Don't you dare!" Junior shouted, running towards them, his heart racing.
Helia froze, the book in her hands slipping from her fingers and falling to the floor with a soft thud. Cobalt, looking caught between concern and amusement, quickly grabbed the thick black block and dropped it into the yellowish substance with his bare hands.
These little...! Junior thought, his frustration mounting as he watched the scene unfold.
He moved quickly, grabbing both of them by their clothes and shoving them behind his back, knowing something bad was bound to happen the moment the block hit the liquid.
A second passed.
Then two seconds.
Yet nothing happened.
Cobalt, his face twisted with impatience, peeked around Junior's body. "Why isn't anything happening?" He asked, clearly unsatisfied with the lack of an immediate explosion or any dramatic result. "What did you guys put in there!?" Junior asked, still keeping a safe distance between them and their so-called experiment.
Helia squirmed against Junior's grip on the back of her clothing, trying to break free, her face flushed with embarrassment. "It wasn't anything impressive—" She began, her voice dripping with annoyance as she tried once again to free herself. "—just sodium, gasoline, and water," She mumbled, clearly upset at being held back like this.
"Huh? What water? I put just plain gasoline," Cobalt frowned, clearly confused by Helia's words. His eyes narrowed at her as she glared back, her expression all too familiar—like the stern glances Xeno would give when someone messed up.
"Idiot. You were supposed to mix gasoline and water together! 30 to 70 ratio!" Helia snapped, clearly annoyed, her voice sharp as she pointed out Cobalt's mistake.
"Hey, no calling names!" Junior interjected, feeling a bit caught in the middle of the twins' growing argument. But Cobalt, of course, took the opportunity to escalate the situation. "Who you callin' an idiot? I can beat you up!" He yelled, puffing out his chest and clearly ready to throw hands.
"Try me," Helia shot back, her tone as cold and unyielding as steel.
Junior's patience snapped soon after. "Scram! Both of you out of the lab!" He barked, his voice firm and commanding as he pointed toward the door. Cobalt grumbled under his breath, but at least the challenge of a fight was put on hold. He shot Helia one last glare before reluctantly stepping away, muttering about how he was going to show her who was really the idiot. Helia rolled her eyes in response and followed after him, her frustration still hanging thick in the air.
Once they were both gone, Junior let out a long, exasperated sigh, rubbing his temples. Now he had to clean up their mess and make sure to lock the lab before he left.
The said lab was an expansive room, cluttered with an assortment of objects that reflected Xeno's wide range of interests and achievements. Telescopes stood near the windows, their lenses polished and ready for stargazing. Shelves were stacked with research papers, thick textbooks, and scientific journals, some open as if Xeno had just been flipping through them. His many diplomas—framed and pristine—hung proudly on one wall, a testament to his intellect and dedication to his field.
Next to them, in stark contrast, were his father's military medals, each one gleaming under the lab's artificial light. Below them, carefully displayed behind protective glass, were some of his father's first firearms, historical relics in their own right, and the things Junior liked most on the display wall.
What always baffled Junior was the wall right beside it. Framed with just as much care and importance as the military honors and prestigious awards were their own childhood diplomas—every single one. From his kindergarten graduation to the smallest academic achievements, they were all there, neatly arranged like they were something truly remarkable.
Junior never really understood why Father insisted on keeping them there. To him, they felt out of place among the accolades of a seasoned scientist and a decorated soldier. Even his sister's Science Affair first-place award was more amazing than his whole set of diplomas!
One day, he'd give his mother something to really be proud of—something that belonged on that wall alongside the rest. But for now, his immediate concern was cleaning up the twins' latest disaster before they found a way to create another.
Dinner that night was a surprisingly quiet affair. After the chaos in the lab, Junior had to force Cobalt to sit down and finish his homework—an ordeal by itself, considering Helia outright refused to help him, claiming he should "figure it out himself for once." That, of course, led to Cobalt whining about how unfair it was, followed by a lengthy back-and-forth until Junior put his foot down.
Once the homework struggle was over, he made them fold clothes together as a way to keep them occupied. That, at least, had gone somewhat smoothly—aside from Cobalt repeatedly tossing socks at Helia's head and Helia retaliating by flicking him with a freshly folded shirt.
By the time they finally settled on dinner, none of them had the energy to argue over what to eat. So Junior just ordered pizza—simple, easy, and guaranteed to keep everyone from complaining.
"When is Father coming home?" Helia asked between bites, nibbling on the plain cheese half of her pizza. She never ate the crust, always picking at her food like she was conducting some kind of careful examination rather than just eating. Across from her, Cobalt was the complete opposite, already halfway through his half portion of the meat lover's pizza. He ate like he had something to prove, tearing through each slice as if someone might take it from him at any second, barely taking breaths between bites.
"Not tonight, at least," Junior answered, taking a bite from his own pizza. He had a full one to himself—something he always did out of habit. As usual, Cobalt had whined about wanting his own pizza instead of sharing with his twin, insisting that this time he could finish it. But, like always, he never did—so he never got one.
"But tonight is supposed to be our movie night," Helia murmured, her voice dipping into an icy disappointment. She stopped eating, pushing her plate away slightly as if the news had drained her appetite.
"We can still watch something together!" Junior said, forcing a bit of enthusiasm into his voice. He didn't want to dwell too much on the missing presence at the table—didn't want to let the absence ruin the night entirely.
"It's not the same..." Helia mumbled, her voice so quiet it was almost lost in the space between them. But Junior still caught it.
He didn't have a response for that because she was right.
"If—!" Cobalt suddenly blurted out, his words muffled by the mouthful of pizza he was still chewing. He gulped it down quickly, wiping at his chin with the back of his hand, though it did nothing to stop the smear of pizza sauce now staining his shirt. "If we're gonna watch something, it's my turn to pick! I want something with action!"
Helia rolled her eyes at his suggestion. "We always watch action movies when it's your turn."
"Yeah, because they're the best!" Cobalt shot back, grinning widely. "Explosions! Car chases! Cool fight scenes!"
Helia, still looking unimpressed, rested her chin against her hand and exhaled through her nose. "You have no taste," She muttered, not even bothering to look at Cobalt.
"Say that again, I—" Cobalt started, whipping his head toward her, ready to launch into another argument, but before he could finish, his words trailed off. His expression shifted from irritation to confusion as he stared past her, his gaze locking onto something outside the window. His brow furrowed in confusion.
"...what is that?" His voice was quiet, almost uncertain, which was unusual for him.
That alone was enough to make Junior and Helia turn their heads, following his line of sight.
Outside in the dark, past the yard and everything else that could be seen in the distance, a massive, eerie green light pulsed. It shimmered strangely, shifting and twisting like it was alive. And, worse yet, it was getting closer.
Panic surged through Junior's body, his heart racing as adrenaline coursed through his veins. His face went pale, and the weight of fear tightened around him—the eerie green light pulsing in the distance sent a cold chill down his spine, its unnatural glow unsettling him to his core. His instincts screamed—something was terribly wrong.
He could see it in his siblings' eyes too, the same terror flickering in their gazes. Helia's expression, usually so composed, was now twisted with uncertainty and fear, while Cobalt's usual cocky demeanor had vanished.
Without thinking, Junior shot up from the table, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. His breath quickened, and his mind raced. "Get to the basement!" He shouted, already running, grabbing both of his siblings before they could react.
But it was too late. The eerie green light had already flooded into their home, swallowing everything in its glow.
A wave of cold dread washed over him.
Damn it. Damn it!
"I-I'm scared!" Cobalt cried out, his voice shaky and panicked, clinging to his older brother in search of comfort, of anything to stop the fear that had overtaken him.
Junior's heart pounded in his chest as he dropped to his knees, pulling his siblings close and shielding them with his body as best as he could. He couldn't let them face whatever this was alone—wrapping his arms around them protectively, he held his ground, his body rigid with determination. He hoped—prayed—that his presence would be enough, that the light wouldn't reach them as long as he stood between them and the unknown.
The twins clung to him, their small bodies pressing against his in fear of what was to come next. Both of them buried their faces in his neck, desperately trying to shield themselves from the light, unwilling to look at whatever danger was creeping closer.
"It's okay," Junior called out, though his voice trembled, not sure if he was trying to reassure them or himself. His arms tightened around them, drawing them into a warm, brotherly embrace—a gentle, reassuring hug meant to comfort and shield them all the same. "It's going to be okay." He repeated the words in a whisper, more to steady his own rapidly escalating heartbeat rather than anything else.
But even as he spoke, the words felt hollow, an attempt to convince himself that everything would turn out fine when it clearly wasn't. He could feel it—the light touching his body, somehow the rest of himself becoming stiff ever so slowly.
"Just close your eyes," He whispered, hoping his words would give them some comfort. "Don't look. Just close your eyes." He squeezed his siblings as tightly as he could, as though holding them close could ward off the danger taking over them. "Everything's gonna be okay."
But deep down, Junior wasn't sure he believed it—but it didn't change that he needed to protect them. He had to be strong—he had to be strong for them.
Even as everything around them grew disturbingly motionless, a strange feeling settling into the air, Junior felt an unsettling emptiness take hold. His body refused to respond, and his senses dulled as if something was stripping away his ability to feel, hear, or see. It was as though the very essence of his being was slipping away, dissolving into the cold, eerie silence.
He hoped everything would be fine, even though his instincts screamed otherwise.
His thoughts became his only anchor now, swirling in the darkness that was consuming him. His mind drifted, as it always did, back to his family—only the happy moments. He always went there, back to those small, happy moments.
He continued to think, trying to hold onto those fleeting, precious moments. His heart clenched with the hope that they would be enough. Enough to keep them safe—enough to bring them through whatever was happening.
And still, he continued to think of those happy moments.