#joy oc

“I need to pop into the shop before we go home. You feel up to joining me?”

Joy thinks for a minute and then shakes their head. They don’t think they can deal with something so close to their previous life today. They’re already shaky, and Miss Lowell… this was her ground. Too many people, too many shoppers, too much potential for something that hurts.

“Okay. I’ll meet you out here in a couple of minutes. Buzz me if it gets too much.”

Joy nods again. They won’t.

As Maia enters the shop, Joy wanders over to a nearby bench and leans against it, pulling a small bag of birdseed out of their pocket. Immediately, pigeons descend. Their hand always hurts more on days like today, but they manage to scatter seed anyway. Nobody should have to go hungry, even if these birds probably won’t.

“My cousin liked feeding the birds.”

Joy tenses, head snapping round, preparing to run. This is why they don’t sit down in public. It’s dangerous.

The woman with long beaded braids now standing beside them just stares at the pigeons sadly, like she’s watching something Joy can’t see. Then she shakes her head.

“Sorry. Look, can I give you this?” Joy takes the leaflet she hands them. They stare at it. “It’s five years today since they went missing, and just, will you keep an eye out? Please?” Joy nods. “Thanks. And um, have a good day. Enjoy your trainers. They’re very cool.”

She walks off, a slump in her step. Joy watches her approach someone else and then turns to the leaflet.

They can’t read very well yet, they’re not sure what it says, but in the centre is a large colour photo of a young person grinning, deep brown eyes alight with laughter. They must love the person taking the photo very deeply. A smattering of freckles dusts across the bridge of their nose, just like Joy’s. They touch their blue curls thoughtfully. Years ago, before Miss Lowell had it shaved, their hair was long and ginger, just like in the photo.

With the light brown skin, they could almost be their twin, if not for the eyes. Joy can’t imagine ever looking quite that happy, or having someone they loved so very much. Who loved them so much.

Who would still be looking for them after five years.

Why would anyone care that much?

“Hey Joy. Whatcha reading?”

Joy jumps a mile in the air, startled out of their reverie by Maia’s words. They look around. The woman’s gone, maybe over to the next square.

“Joy? You alright?”

Joy nods, folding the leaflet and stuffing it into their pocket. It’s not important. Not for them, anyway.

They hope the woman finds her cousin. It’s a horrible feeling, mourning someone important, even if they don’t really know who that is. It’s just like a gaping hole, a gnawing wound, full of half-visible silhouettes that flit in and out of their mind at random, fragments of voices they recognise but can’t quite place. That wonderful laugh. Where is it?

They glance at the bag in Maia’s hand and wonder what she’s bought. Nobody will have been broken and bloodied over this shopping — Maia doesn’t do that.

“Tinned tomatoes and eggs, and a couple other things. We were missing some ingredients for tonight. Come on. Let’s go home and I’ll teach you how to make it.”

Maia holds out a hand and Joy takes it. This is still… there are still so many people here. People who could beat them and hurt them and gag them and they wouldn’t care at all, would stare or just look away or have that horrible, horrible hunger—

“Hey. You’re okay Joy, let’s go home.”

Joy blinks. Nods. Someone did care, didn’t they, otherwise they wouldn’t be here.

They squeeze Maia’s hand back gratefully.

As they stroll back towards Maia’s house together (Maia often jokes that Joy is forcing her to be more active), Joy can’t stop thinking about the woman and her missing cousin. There’s something achingly familiar about them both.

Missing someone so much is like a hole in the heart. Is it better or worse if you know who it is you’re missing?

“Do you— do you think we’ll ever find my family, miss?”

Barely-used as it is, their voice comes out as a whisper. Maia hears, though. She always does. She squeezes their hand and smiles sadly.