[OMEGAVERSE] Grow with me

2.2

So Paul steps forward slowly, immediately drawing the boys’ attention, and raises his hands in a gesture of peace.

“No one is going to separate you. That’s not what we’re going to do, do you hear me? You won’t be separated.”

“We don’t want to!”

“I know, Mael. And you won’t be.”

“Do you promise?”

Nothing about this is trivial. Paul knows that if he breaks this promise, his son will never trust him again.

“Yes. I promise.”

A faint smile appears on the child’s lips, and the parents cling to it.

“Yes, sweetheart,” Marianne adds. “We promise. We won’t separate you.”

Mael nods, then turns to Andréa’s parents, waiting for the same assurance.

“You can believe me—we won’t do that.”

“We promise you, boys.”

They all play along, fully aware of the weight of their words, keeping enough distance not to unsettle the children.

Mael believes them—that much is clear. He takes a deep breath, as if grounding himself, then turns to Andréa with a bright smile, as if to say everything is okay now.

But Andréa remains less at ease, already thinking ahead.

“Is Mael still going to change house? Or school?”

MJ sighs while Adrien lets out a soft laugh. Their son has always been tough…

“We’re going to talk about all that, sweetheart,” Marianne steps in gently. “But this time, we’ll do things differently.”

She looks at him with sincerity.

“We’ll listen to you. If you don’t want to be separated at school, we’ll make sure you stay together. If you want to see each other every day, we’ll work it out. Andréa can come stay at our house as often as you want. And if something’s wrong, you can tell us—we’ll listen. That’s a promise.”

Though Andréa still looks stubborn, his grip loosens. Without realizing it, the boys return to being five years old again.

Mael suddenly bursts into tears and rushes into his father’s arms, overwhelmed. Paul holds him tightly, instinctively releasing calming pheromones. Marianne joins them, wrapping both of them in her arms, offering the reassurance her son desperately needs.

“We did something bad! I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. We’re not angry. We’re a little scared, yes—but we’re not angry.”

“You’re not angry?”

Andréa sounds surprised. He still lingers at the threshold, watching his friend with longing.

“Mom? Are you mad? And you, Dad?”

“Come here, son…”

MJ rarely uses such a gentle tone. But Andréa knows better than to disobey when she does.

He walks over quickly, and she lifts him effortlessly into her arms, settling him on her hip.

“You’re getting too big for this… soon I won’t be able to carry you anymore. It goes by too fast—let me enjoy it a little…”

She hugs him tightly, and he clings to her, needing the comfort. He tries to hold back, but the dam breaks, and he starts to cry too, burying his face in her neck.

Then he feels his father’s soothing hand in his hair—and he lets go completely.

“We love you, son. More than anything you could ever imagine or do.”

And that is enough.

He had always believed there was nothing he could do that would make his parents stop loving him—but this time, he had been afraid he might have crossed that line.

The relief is overwhelming.

For him, everything ends perfectly.

He doesn’t understand all the implications yet—but it doesn’t matter.

He trusts his parents.

His mother never lies to him…