This story is still kind of a work in progress so all criticism is welcome

"Mom?" The silence was deafening. All that was heard was the faint pattering of bare feet walking quickly along the floor.

"T?" Still no answer. Quiet. His walk turned into a run. Where was everyone? Why was it so quiet? Why was he alone?

He got onto the tips of his toes and opened the closest door. Inside was his mom's room. A large bed was in the middle of the room with a dresser right across from it. The room was a mess; all of the drawers were pulled open with clothes scattered everywhere.

"Mom," the little boy called again. Still no answer. His heart beat quickened as he left that room to search the next. Still no one. Each room he opened gave him the same result.

No mom.

No T.

No anybody.

Just the quiet.

His hands grabbed his little arms as he kept walking down the seemingly never ending hallway.

"B?" He stopped, looking around, hoping that he actually heard someone, and that it wasn't just his imagination. When he didn't hear it again, he kept walking.

"B?" He started walking faster. He knew this voice, and he wanted to find it. He had to find it.

The hallway still seemed so long, but now the young child had a destination. He kept running down the hallway, and the voice kept getting louder and louder.

"B," it asked again when he was right in front of the door marked with the number '728'. He reached up and turned the knob. The door slowly creaked opened, and he walked in.

"T," he asked, quiet. He held his breath, waiting for a reply. It came after what seemed like hours.

"B," said a shadow near the back of the room. It didn't move. All it did was call for the young boy. He smiled and walked all the way in.

"T, is that you?" He reached the shadow and grabbed it. It was too soft. At a closer look, it was just a pile of clothing. The smile on his face was replaced with a disappointed frown. He turned around to walk back out the room when the door closed. His eyes widened.

He ran to the door and started banging on it with everything he could.

"Hello," he yelled. No reply.

"Mom! Dad! T!" Still no reply. His little hands banged on the door, as he was just waiting, hoping, for someone to just answer him. Eventually he stopped. He brought his knees up to his chest and grabbed his short, black hair as he buried his face in his knees.

He was alone. He hated being alone. He started breathing harder and harder.

No one was coming. They weren't coming for him. They didn't want him anymore.

It hurt to breathe, and he didn't know what to do.

There's a reason they're gone. There's a reason they left you.

He started pulling at his hair until it threatened to be pulled out. And then he screamed. He screamed as loud as he could.

He sat up, screaming. His breathes came out deep and troubled. His hands found his way to his hair, as he tried and failed to calm down. Tears gathered at the corner of his eyes as he started to lose control of himself.

A hand grabbed his and he jumped violently. He looked over fearfully at the owner of the hand. But he was pulled into a broad chest before he could see the owner's face. He started struggling to get away, but those same hands started rubbing his arms.

"Ssh Billy," the person said while still rubbing his arms. He instantly started to calm down at the voice. He leaned into them, and he closed his eyes again. Even as he started to feel more relaxed, the person still didn't let go.

"It's okay Billy, I won't leave you," it said. Even as he was set back down on the bed, the person still held onto his hand, stroking it with his thumb.

"I'll never leave you. Don't worry." After some coaxing, Billy finally went back to sleep, listening to the sound of his boyfriend breathing.

He wasn't alone.