Her parents didn't come today, either.

It was an observation Peter made as he floated in front of the B180 door, and the fact that it was closed was the first sign. When he hesitantly poked his head through it, the near emptiness of the room was the second sign.

As cold as it sounded, their absence for today was not a surprise to him; after the first couple months that he's been enjoying Michelle's company, indulging in the warm closeness of her, her Mama, and her Papa- something he missed so terribly from his own family- their visits grew less and less. At first, Peter didn't pick up on the less frequent visits- being so indulged in Michelle's funny stories and her chiming giggles- but it didn't take long for him to notice the lack of Francis's heavily accented laugh he would usually hear down the hall, or the missing scent of rose perfume that clung to Makena's colorful garments. The more days they missed, the less surprised Peter was when he would hear the nurses and doctors- ones that were close to the Bonnefoy daughter- whisper amongst each other things like "Wow, they're not here today, too?" or "That poor girl must be so lonely".

Yet, as he leaned forward to faze his head through the door, the lack of shock did nothing to stop his heart from twisting as his eyes went straight to the solitary bed in the dim, quiet room to watch the small figure lying still under the duvet. He pursed his lips as he silently willed her to move, to show any sign of life to let him know that she was okay, but another part of him, a tiny, lonely voice that he didn't even know existed in his head, hoping that maybe, just maybe, Michelle wasn't-

He squeezed his eyes and shook his head. No. No! Why would he even hope for such a thing?

Panic surged through his weak, light body and, almost as if he wanted to prove to himself that that horrible wish wasn't what he truly wanted, and that he wasn't a bad boy, he leaned further through the door and whispered with a hoarse, urgent voice, "Michelle! Michelle, wake up!"

A soft gasp and a little bit of stirring under the blanket later, Peter sighed in relief as Michelle finally pulled her head out from under the blanket and even- what an improvement!- sat up from her nestling cocoon. But the relief didn't last much longer when Peter watched Michelle fold her hands in her lap and stare down at her woven fingers.

"Hey, Peter..."

Peter's heart sunk even lower at the two simple words that, earlier on in their friendship, would have made it flutter and fill with glee at the bright day that was ahead of them. With no cheer in her sweet voice, she sounded so empty, so torn apart.

"Hey," Peter replied softly, still hovering in the door. He looked down at the tiled floor, wondering if he should leave for a moment, but decided against it and looked back up. "Can I come in?"

Although the boy knew the brightening mood was fake, Michelle still lifted her head and smiled. "Of course! Yeah!"

Peter nodded and drifted his body fully into the room. He stood by the bed until Michelle scooted up far enough to give him some space and then flew into the air, billowing down into a crossed-leg position like an airborne feather fluttering to the ground. A few moments after, they let the silence return, with Peter fiddling his little thumbs and staring at his hospital pants leg, sparing a glance up at Michelle's exhausted-looking face to spark a topic to converse with. Finding no inspiration there, he swept his eyes around the room once more. A thin line of winter sunlight poking through the window panel, the fake houseplant in the corner with its leaves losing their green color, the neatly stacked cups of ice cream and fruits on the serving tray waiting for the nurse to come and collect, some of them half-eaten while the other two or three weren't even opened.

The boy pursed his lips once more and furrowed his eyebrow as he silently scolded himself for not finding anything to talk about. Was there nothing he could say to distract Michelle-

"They didn't come today."

Peter stiffened and looked at Michelle, swallowing the bit of spit that collected in his throat. "...I..." His gaze flickered to the bedside table and the miniature boxes wrapped in some festive Christmas paper. "Oh! You got gifts! That's cool!"

Michelle looked over her shoulder at the table and nodded at the abundance. "Mhm! Yeah, Nurse Kat and Nurse Nat said Mama and Papa mailed them in and they came yesterday. But I don't wanna open them yet. I wanna wait until Christmas with..." her voice trailed off then. Peter could've sworn he heard a stifled sob, and whether he did or not, he couldn't hold it against her.

Although it's been quite a few years since his daddies came to him with gifts, he could still remember the holiday joy that filled the room and brought smiles to their faces; even more, he could remember that no matter what toy he used to receive back then, it never topped playing them with his boisterous uncle, or sipping hot cocoa as he sat in his Mum's lap, or hanging up paper angels in the hospital window while Papa held him up on his shoulders.

Neither Peter nor Michelle would wish for the other patients to be in their predicament, but it still stung to watch parents come and brighten up the rooms with ornaments and policy-approved electric candles, and sit with their children as they opened up boxes of candy and cookies that brought a smile to their face. They didn't feel a twinge of envy, but there was a terrible pain of longing when they could hear the faint sounds of mommies and daddies singing carols through the thin walls.

Breathing through his nose, Peter started to push away that longing that started to bubble up again, which was quite easy since he had years to practice numbing it. As for Michelle…

"They said they're gonna- they're gonna make it this Christmas," she said. Even at the way she angled her head to keep her eyes away from Peter, he could still see them glisten. She let out one soft sniff and looked up at the door, not really seeing it. "I mean, they are! I think they are, and even if not…" Her eyes, wide and red, finally met Peter's. "They have lotsa stuff to do in their shops, y'know? And I won't be alone! Because…"

Peter leaned in close to catch the last bit of words that died off. At least, he thought he heard Michelle saying something else. Didn't he? "Uhm, what?"

"Because you'll be here." Her voice, still sounding empty, still trying to feign optimism, started to become strained. "Right?" Before Peter could answer her, all the months worth the tears finally started to pour as she lowered her face into her hands.

This was another thing that didn't take Peter by surprise, especially with as much as he could truly empathize with the girl's weeping. Instead of answering her right away, he waited quietly as she lied back down on her side and curled up. Her tears started to flow through him as well, and he couldn't help but lie right next to her and place his weightless arm uselessly over her shoulder. Her sobs breezed through his intangible face, but he could still feel them as if his cheeks were still solid, or maybe it was just her anguish and loneliness he could feel erasing the numbness he worked so hard to build up inside him.

Across the room, a loose thread in the window's curtain started to tug down, slowly unfurling the work of the curtain row by row, stitch by stitch. In the corner, one leaf followed by the other started to fall from the plastic stems as if the plant was organic and dying. Above them, the light fixtures started forming little cracks on their glass surface. But the children didn't notice.

Face to face they lied on the bed, wallowing in the hurt and insecurities they never thought they would have to suffer through.

When will Mama and Papa come back? They were doing so well spending more time together, what happened? Why do they have to work so much all the time?

And of course Peter would be there for Michelle during Christmas, he likes her so much to not see her on the best day of the year. The many years of being ignored and neglected seemed to go away in those few short months ever since he met Michelle. He could only hope that he was really enough to fill the void her parents left, because she was enough for him.