𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐈𝐆𝐒 ☞ 𝐁. 𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

epilogue.

His eyes watched her cautiously as she approached the bed, taking a seat next to him on the edge of it. "Just, uh... just writing in my journal."

Slowly nodding, she offered a kind smile. "Any new jokes you want to share?"

His own smile began to grow as he flipped through the pages filled with messy, incomprehensible handwriting. Most didn't ask to hear his jokes, knowing them to be a bit crude and... an acquired taste. But Siobhan always asked. The man was usually too caught up in his own laughter to notice if hers was forced or even there. "This one I thought of the other day." His finger pointed at the messy line. "Why did the orphan go to church?" Siobhan shrugged her shoulders. "So he could call someone Father." After a fleeting moment, she offered a polite chuckle. The man bit out his own laughter, coughing occasionally breaking up his laughter.

A wince crossed her face as she watched him attempt to control his laughter. It looked painful for him, she was sure. And she knew that, as uncomfortable as it was for others, she was sure it was even more uncomfortable for him. Her hand tentatively reached out to rub a comforting circle against his back. "That's a good one, Artie. But I would... be careful who you tell that one to. Some might find it rude."

He nodded through his pained laughter. Embarrassment flushed across his face as he continued to cough into his elbow. "I'm so-" He attempted to apologize, but his dry coughs wouldn't let him.

"Don't worry about it." Her voice soft and kind. It was everything he wanted in a mother figure. His own mother hadn't been so kind. Maybe when he was older. But when he was a kid... that was a different story. He supposed he couldn't completely blame her, though. His hands rubbed his face as his laughter finally died down. Part of him wanted a hole in the ground to open up and swallow him whole. He wanted nothing more than to tell her how much she meant to him, fuck all of the strange looks he got from others or the wealth that she carried with her. He just needed to tell her all that had been on his mind, all of the things he dreamed of the two doing. "Artie, I need to talk to you." His eyes widened, a smile beginning to grow on his lips. Was she making the first move? Had his dreams been premonitions? "I've gotten some complaints from the other residents about your inappropriate comments and jokes. Look, if this keeps up, we might have to move you to a separate location. I don't want to do that, but you can't just go around telling these insensitive jokes to everyone. Not everyone finds them funny."

His gaze hardened as it moved from her face to the ground. So that's what this was about. He should've known. Because she was nothing but a spoiled, rich brat. His jaw clenched. "I know." He practically spit out. "But my jokes deserve to be told like everyone else's." He sounded like an insolent child who wasn't getting his way.

Her frown deepened. "I know. But you have to keep in mind that there are children here. You can't tell them stories about killer clowns. And you definitely can't tell them that they'll all be orphans one day."

"Why not? It's true!"

"I know that, but they're kids, Arthur." He didn't like how she said his full name, like she was his mother. "That kind of stuff scares them. It's not your place to be telling them things like that."

He huffed, his glare on the floor. "Stop acting like my mother."

"Then stop acting like a child and I won't have to act like your mother. You know the rules but you act like they don't apply to you." She felt like she was scolding a little kid. If this was motherhood then she wanted no part in it.