Noah sighed happily as he woke up into the comfort of his bed. The familiar scent of burning wood and his mother's favorite air freshener made him feel like all his worries disappeared.
He slowly opened his eyes to see his father sitting at the side of his bed with a worried look.
"You sure you feeling okay, kiddo?" His father asked as he messed his hair up. Noah scrunched his face up with a smile as he shook head to shake his father's hand off.
"I'm fine, dad. Please stop worrying."
his old man chuckled as he rested his hand on Noah's forehead, his eyes still carrying hint of worry and sadness for the younger boy.
"Where's mom? I don't smell her bacon and pancakes like I do every Saturday morning."
a moment of silence passed by before Noah asked again.
"Dad?"
"She's a bit sick, maybe you should let her rest for the day. You and I can maybe do these pancakes instead."
he rested a hand on Noah's shoulder with a sad smile on his lips.
"Is everything okay?"
"Yeah...yeah, everything is fine." The response came out chocked. It was as if he was trying to believe the sentence he just forced out of himself mouth.
"No, it's not. What's going on?"
Noah could see the tears building up in his father's eyes, and it pained him as he silently watched, trying comfort him as he sat up.
"Your mom is sick again. It less worse than the first time and the doctor says it's definitely curable."
"that's—that's great news! But, why does this seem to bother you?" Noah whispered, a heavy frown on him.
"My work has been cutting my allowance short. The company hasn't been doing great for a few months now."
he paused to look at Noah straight at the eyes. "I don't think I'll be able to pay for her treatment this time, especially when this lockdown going on."
Noah quickly held on to his father. He felt as if he was going to collapse from hearing what he just heard. His breaths became short and quicker as his grip on his father's arms became unbelievably painfully.
"Kiddo? Kiddo, breath."
Noah got pulled into a tight embrace from his father, eyes blurred by tears as a huge lump was felt in his throat.
"She'll be fine," his dad lied. It made Noah sob louder. The lie was a stab instead of a reliver as Noah felt like the truth would do him better.
"I'll find another job and I'll make sure she gets treated. You hear me? We'll be fine."
Quickly, he pushed himself off of his father's hold and held himself instead. The lies he father spoke made him feel worse. He didn't like this. Crying in front of someone was something he didn't want people to witness.
"I'll join you in the kitchen," he whispered, his voice wavering.
"I'll get the mix ready for us then."
His father didn't leave without placing a last kiss in his forehead.
He felt vulnerable in an instant as his father closed his room door, making him slide back down into the warm blanket and bed. His hands were gripping the floor with great pressure as it became cold and slippery. Noah wiped his tears and lifted his blanket to see what was on his bed, his eyes widening.
Ice? The tips of his fingers were pale blue as the ice somehow spread from his laid palm on the sheet at a fast pace. This caused him to freak out, more than two emotions attacking him at once. He stood up, trying to stay away from the ice and lost his balance. He leaned on the nightstand for support so he doesn't go tumbling down and getting hurt. The ice also managed to spread on the drawers, the sound of sharp ice hearable to his ears.
Noah quickly noticed what he should do to stop this. He needed to calm down. His emotions were at its highest, which most likely triggered this ice ability he had. Slowly, he breathed, counting each inhale and exhale he took to distract himself from his pounding heart. It half worked, the blue from his finger tips disappearing more than half.
He tried to touch the wooden ground to see if some ice had spread out, and it did. This scared him and made the blue color most of his fingers again.
he wasn't making any progress at the moment. He was just heightening his feelings by doing something stupid.
A shower should calm him down. It was the only thing that seemed rational to him. He ran to his closet and pulled out a red shirt and some sweatpants. His calmness died down as his clothes froze too, a thick layer of ice covering it. He wasn't scared, sad, or startled. He was getting frustrated. How could he shower when he could freeze his clothes?
"Noah?!" His father called, startling the boy where he accidentally shot ice towards the mirror on the wall, shattering a bit.
"Yeah?" He called back as he started back at his reflection.
"I made the dough. It's ready for you to fry."
"That is if I don't freeze the fire too," he mumbled as he looked at his bluish white hands.