They ended up sitting there, tangled together in the middle of this brand-new room, Justin's body curling in on itself like he could physically keep the pain from swallowing him whole. Sasha's arms wrapped around him, holding him together in ways even he couldn't.
And shit—he wasn't a robot. He wasn't some unfeeling machine who could just delete the pain like it was a bad email. His parents were gone, and no matter how much he wished it weren't true, it was.
The worst part?
He never even got to say goodbye.
They'd been away for a month on a business trip, and now—now they were just gone. Just like that. No warning. No last words.
But even if he had gotten a goodbye, it wouldn't have made this hurt less. It wasn't like they would've said, "Hey, Justin, we're about to fucking die, so let's have one last sentimental moment." No. They would've lied. Given him some cliché bullshit like It's okay, we'll always be with you—and that would've just made everything worse.
