As it turned out, letting Hunter sleep in their bed became less of a one-time occurrence and more of an every-time occurrence.
Knowing that there was now an option to not sleep in his own bed, he was avoiding it like the plague and anytime either parent tried to put him back in his own bed, they'd just find him curled up in the little space underneath it by the morning.
In the end, they had come to the decision that they'd rather give in and let him get a good night's sleep rather than have him sleep on the cold floor, probably causing all sorts of problems for his back or whichever other aches and pains came with sleeping on the floor which would only come to haunt him with age.
They'd tried to question him about it, asking what was so wrong with his own bed? Why he was so set on sleeping anywhere else? Even offering that one of them sleep in his bed with him in an attempt to slowly wean him back into a normal routine but each time, he'd just work himself into tears and they'd have to let it go before he made himself sick with the force of his sobs.
This sort of behaviour was just so unlike him! Evelyn wouldn't have been too surprised if she'd seen another child behaving in this way, it was a decently common behaviour for children actually, but not for her son. Her son loved being independent, he loved having his own little space to hide away in with his books and his bird plushies. He liked being in control, able to organise his room just the way he wanted, and he loved feeling mature, able to sleep in his own proper bed instead of a cot or a toddler bed like he used to have.
His sudden anxiousness about sleeping in his own bed just didn't make any sense.
And he wouldn't tell them either, not even a hint. Maybe it was just typical childlike disobedience, sure, but it really didn't seem like that was the case. When they questioned him, he didn't smile or giggle like he was enjoying keeping a secret and knowing something that they didn't, he just got upset.
The closest thing to a coherent answer (and you'd be generous calling it that) that they'd gotten out of him was that he was 'scared'.
Scared of what? Neither of them knew because he'd refused to elaborate any further, shutting down and hiding his face behind Flapjack like a shield until they'd dropped it.
One night, they'd tried allowing him to lay in their bed, waiting until he'd fallen asleep, then had carried him back to his own room to see if that would help but the next morning, they'd just found him sleeping outside their door again.
The bedwetting hadn't stopped either. Evelyn had been woken up a fair few times over the past few weeks to stumble about, changing sheets and finding clean pyjamas. He seemed positively mortified by the whole thing so neither she nor Caleb had pushed that topic very far.
In general, she'd noticed him acting a lot more childish than usual, clinging to her side for most of the day, carrying Flapjack around with him wherever he went, and she'd even noticed him sucking his thumb on occasion, though he tried to hide it.
She'd tried to do a bit of research on the internet, scouring forms and reading articles but all the results that came up only spoke of babies and toddlers who'd regressed a stage in development due to stress or change, not six-year-olds suddenly sicking thumbs or wetting the bed where they hadn't before.
The closest she could find to what could possibly be an answer was stories of autistic children regressing in behaviour because of routines being broken and changed, and well, she did suppose that staying over at someone else's house for the first time for a whole week without parents was a pretty big change and Hunter had always been very specific about his routines so maybe that could explain it?
Even so, none of the reports talked of children regressing to this sort of extent.
She still felt as if there was something, just right in front of her, that she was missing. Some big piece in the puzzle that when discovered would allow all the others to slot into place as well.
But she just wasn't seeing it.
And unfortunately, before she could have any sort of big revelation, she was needed out of state for a few days to help a family friend find a new house after a pretty messy divorce and this just so happened to sync up with one of Caleb's next business trips, meaning they'd need to leave their son in the care of his uncle again.
Evelyn briefly debated simply taking Hunter with her, worrying about how yet another abrupt change in routine would affect him and if Philip would be able to manage his sudden strange behaviour, especially with his track record of hating apparent clingy, whiny children. But, she really didn't think her friend would cope too well with a kid around (again, very messy divorce) even if Hunter was well-behaved.
So with a decision that left a bad taste in her mouth, she reluctantly agreed to Philip's offer to look after her son again, just for a few days this time, until Evelyn could get back and come collect him.
When she brought this plan up with Hunter, however, she noticed a quick flash of something across his face. With that, nausea threatened the back of her throat and she had a feeling deep down in her gut that she was doing something very wrong. But, just as she was ready to decide her friend could suck it up because she was bringing her son along with her whether he liked it or not, Hunter plastered a smile on his face and cheered happily.
Something about it sounded off.
"I can't wait to see Uncle Philip again! Last time, we were talking about these birds called Macaws and I saw a super cool looking one in my book! I can't wait to tell him about it!"
For his sake, Evelyn forced a smile onto her own face. "Yeah! I'm sure he'll love that." She let out an admittedly strained laugh. "And you're sure you want to go?"
This time, he didn't miss a beat.
"Yeah! It's going to be so fun." He giggled.
Evelyn tried to laugh along. Her son was happy! After days and days of being miserable and clingy and on edge, he was finally smiling, and not only that, but laughing. She should have been just as happy, if not for herself then for him.
But all she could find was a sinking feeling in her gut.
The night before she and Caleb left, Hunter was even more restless than usual, taking hours to eventually get to sleep and then proceeding to wake up more times than she had fingers to count throughout the night, squirming around and getting more and more frustrated as he got more and more exhausted. You'd have thought it was Christmas Eve with how much trouble he was having settling down.
And then during breakfast the next morning, his appetite seemed to have completely vanished. He tore apart his pancakes with his fork and rolled the fruit around the plate, smooshing it all together and coating it across the plate to try and create the illusion that he'd eaten at least something.
After finishing breakfast and packing a bag for Hunter — which they managed in surprisingly good time? — Evelyn waited with him in the living room, watching a documentary on the TV while they listened out for the doorbell. The entire time, Hunter was on edge, stealing glances out the window every few seconds, unable to focus on the screen, twitching and whipping his head around at every small noise, anticipating the chimes of the doorbell. Until it was.
The little tune of the doorbell dragged out merrily and Evelyn watched Hunter go dead still.
Some feeling of dread that wasn't entirely her own made her pause before she was forced to face the inevitable by the impatient knocking on the door. She got to her feet, Hunter following suit, and silently cursed Philip for not being more patient before putting on her fakest smile and mustering up all her energy to deal with whatever bullshit he'd brought along with him this time.
She reached for the door handle and felt Hunter grab onto her shirt, shifting himself to hide behind her, using her frame to shield himself as she cracked the door open to reveal Philip and his usual unsettling smile.
Uninvited, he stepped through the doorway and surveyed the hallway with a vague hum before turning his attention back to Evelyn and Hunter hiding behind her, or well, to the side of her now, trying to get as far away from Philip as possible.
Philip chuckled at that. "Getting shy now, are we?" He teased.
Hunter froze like a deer in the headlights and his gaze flickered up to Evelyn as if looking for something. Ultimately it appeared he didn't find much as he reluctantly peeled himself from her side with a small forced laugh, determined to keep his eyes anywhere other than on Philip.
And when Philip went in for a hug, Evelyn didn't miss how Hunter shifted away, out of reach, pretending not to have noticed. Philip didn't either by the way his expression faltered for a split second, revealing something darker.
Evelyn frowned.
He recovered quick, however, brushing off any lingering hurt — or well, no. Hurt didn't seem quite right. That look had been something else. "All ready to go, little lamb?"
The smile on Hunter's face didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah. We can— we can go."
Philip returned the smile — though much more real than Hunter's, it held no sort of warmth and it dropped the minute his eyes landed on Flapjack, still cradled in Hunter's arms.
The strange expression returned for slightly longer this time.
"Why, aren't you a bit too old for carrying around toys now?" He commented, giving Hunter a condescending look.
As she saw her son's mood dampen Evelyn was ready to cut in and give Philip a real piece of her mind. The two of them had never gotten along, not really. Philip and his close-minded way of thinking had always hated her beliefs, scoffed at her spiritual practices and witchcraft, and frankly, after all, she'd heard from Caleb, she didn't much like him either. But over the years, she'd tried to keep things civil with Hunter around. Even if she knew fine well that Philip was bad-mouthing her to her own son, she wasn't going to stoop to his level.
However, if he was now being rude to Hunter? She'd gladly put him in his place.
But, before she had the chance, Hunter laughed it off.
"Yeah, I'm just being silly." He said, scoffing at his own childishness, a sound that made Evelyn wince.
And with that, he approached the hallway table and gently placed Flapjack down, pausing for just a moment, waiting for someone to argue, before withdrawing his hands when nobody did.
Evelyn wished she had.
He walked over to the front door where Philip was waiting, feet dragging more than they had before as if trying to root him in place.
He took one last look at Flapjack and then at Evelyn. Hesitating for the slightest moment. "Bye, Mom. See you soon."
She wanted to question why he'd left Flapjack behind after clinging to him so insistently for weeks. She wanted to shout at Philip for upsetting her son. She wanted to ask what the hell was going on.
Instead, all she could manage was a weak "Goodbye."
And the last thing she saw before the door clicked shut was Philip's smug smile.
She stood in the hallway for a while, staring at the door, dumbfounded, before turning her attention to Flapjack, making sure he was still there and it hadn't just been her imagination.
And of course, there was the little red cardinal looking back at her knowingly.
She picked the plushie up off the table and brought it close to her chest in a tight hug.