Archive of Our Own

Oscar always had such a good way of looking at things and a good perspective on life, when it got bad or worse, he just held his head up. It could have been that attempt to be possessed by an ancient evil magician when he was just a baby, or everything else that he just so happened to witness in his life, or maybe he was just a generally positive person.

When the family had a huge falling out, Oscar did try to fix things. 

Or at least, in his mind.

His family…were strange. His mother was always the most normal, and most calm. Then his dad, Peter--strange guy, really loud, but overall a good person. He knew Peter wasn’t his dad, but it didn’t matter to him. What came with Peter was a loving home and someone to help his mom and give her the support she deserved.
His uncle Ray was just as positive but cynical in his own way, growing more cynical and a bit less happy in his older age. Oscar could visit his bookshop whenever he wanted, and learn about everything that he’d never known, but he wasn’t allowed to write school reports on stuff like that. Not anymore .
His uncle Winston who was just always so supportive and kind, smart but mischievous. He’d let Oscar get away with damn near anything. Winston taught him to drive, which ended pretty okay, it only took a week to repair the firehouse doors.
Auntie Janine--she was like a second mom, always fussing with him but spoiling at the same time with gifts and fun adventures to the store or around the city.  She was assertive and taught him to stand up for himself more than once. She is a bit of a legend at his school where she once pretended to be Dana just so she could chase down some bullies.

Then…there was his Uncle Egon.

According to the fun stories they used to share, Egon was the least eager to interact with Oscar. He wasn’t good with children and apparently didn’t have a nurturing bone in his body--which, had to have been a fib or something. Oscar remembers him well, being a fun babysitter. He got Oscar into science, and let him stay up late to eat sweets and junk food. It didn’t even take long before he could get Egon into playing video games with him.

Egon was strange, yeah, but he wasn’t bad . He was different, but Oscar loved that.

It was when he left suddenly and upset everyone that hurt Oscar the most, though. His parents were at ends with each other because of the stress Peter went through, Uncle Ray closed the bookstore for weeks. Winston couldn’t bring himself to be around because of the fighting that constantly started.

He just wondered why .

He laid in bed for hours after being told lights out, staring into his little science notebook he’d started keeping, he had written down all the possible reasons his child mind could come up with about why his uncle would suddenly leave, ‘abandoned them’ Peter had yelled once, when he didn't think Oscar was around. Nothing made sense…but Egon had been so strange before he left. He was quiet, tired, distracted. He didn’t even want to play the games he liked…
The last time Oscar saw him, it was just for a few hours at the Firehouse. He ran up to see the workshop and surprise his uncle with a new box of twinkies.

“I saved up my allowance to get these--they got green insides!” 

He stopped short, seeing Egon hunched over his desk, not reacting to his arrival at all. The boy gently clutched the box to his chest and approached slower, nervously grabbing a small hand to tug at his coat

“Egon?”

“Not now, Oscar--please,” The older man shifted in his seat and pulled away and Oscar took a few steps back now, though at a momentary glance he could see his uncle's face. He’d been crying, by the looks of it, and his face looked so pale. It was nothing like he was used to…and now he was worried, but hearing his mother call his name, Oscar just left the box on the table next to Egon’s work and shuffled back downstairs.

On the slow walk home, he silently held Dana’s hand and watched the pavement.

Then blue eyes looked up to her,

“Mom…is Egon sick?”

Her face gave away something, but he couldn’t understand it. Not yet, but he would in the coming years. “He’s just tired.”

“Can he take a day off?” Oscar pressed, squeezing her hand “Dad does all the time.”

A sigh escaped her lips and as they reached the crosswalk, Dana turned and knelt with her son, waiting for the signal to turn was the perfect time, if any, for this. “Sweetheart…Egon isn’t tired like we get tired. He needs more than some rest…but what he needs, we can’t give.”

What Oscar didn’t know was what was boiling up under the surface of their family. The outbursts, scaring customers, the weird drawings and writing, the rants and rambling. Dana wouldn’t allow her child to see that, which meant being around less and less. He missed his family. 

Ocsar’s face fell, looking down at his shoes. “I left him his favorite snacks…”

With a soft but saddened smile, Dana gently squeezed his small hands within her own, feeling her heart break. “I’m sure he appreciates that.”

The signal turned and they continued their way back home. There were still so many questions and worries in his mind, but what was worse, that he couldn't comprehend what was about to come.

Oscar heard the door slam shut, and a loud voice to start to carry upstairs so he left the toys on the circle rug and left his room, starting a few steps down until he could see and hear what was going on, slowly sitting and peeking through the banister, hands gripping the ornate wood.

“--son of a bitch left us high and dry!”

“Peter, he wouldn’t do that,” Dana was trying to reason with him, but his dad looked beyond furious, he couldn’t remember seeing him so angry before. 

“He did! He fu--he left us, he abandoned us, Dana. He stole everything in the firehouse! We’re done!” He sat heavily on the couch with his head in his hands, and a heavy silence grew over the room “We’ve been done for a while…but I never thought this would happen.”

“Did he leave a note…? Did he say whe--”

“ No .”

He could hear his mother pacing, walking over to the phone and immediately calling someone. Inching closer to the bottom of the stairs but trying to stay out of sight. Hearing his mother speaking to Auntie Janine…they mentioned Egon’s name. It didn’t sound good…

When she walked back into the room, he scooted back up into the shadows and waited, though his mom sounded different now. She sounded upset.

“She doesn’t know, either.”

Peter huffed bitterly “Of course she wouldn’t. Egon’s finally lost it, why would he trust any one of us anymore?”

Oscar’s eyes widened and he finally stood and rushed to the bottom, both his parents looking spooked and unsure as he stood there. Whatever energy laid in the air before only got worse, and before he even had time to ask Peter just hid his face in his hands again.

He looked to dad, then to mom. “...Did something happen to Uncle Egon?”

Before they could even answer and break the long silence made his eyes start to well with unshed tears. They weren’t telling him something and they had kept something from him for even longer! Something was wrong and he didn’t know. Running upstairs without waiting for either of them to say, Oscar hid beneath his bed and covered his face as he cried. 

Stopping by his folk's place like he’d normally do so late in the day, Oscar fished out his spare key and opened the door to a strange silence. Normally either of them would be home, watching something or having another loud conversation. But a few steps inside and he noticed his mother sitting at the table, chin leaning on her folded hands.

“Mom?”

Dana looked up and he could tell she’d been crying.

It alarmed him, setting down his bag and rushing over “Mom--what happened, is it dad, what--”

She moved her hands around his own while shaking her head, lips pressed thin as he could tell she was trying to figure out words to say. It was something big, but nothing good. Good things came with bombastic announcements or Peter’s way of bluntly saying it with a monotone delivery. It was never this grave.

“It’s…about Egon.”

Numbness overtook him as he walked upstairs, legs carrying him to such a familiar place as if on autopilot, mind still wrapping around and processing the news. Egon passed away last week . The words just floated around his head that had become an empty void, coming back around and around again, only hearing it in everyone’s voice.

Egon passed away last week--

Egon passed away--

Egon died .

It wasn’t until he reached the top of the stairs did something catch his eye, pulling him out of the numb distraction of the news. A picture hanging among so many that lined the walls up the stairs, all throughout the years. 

One stood out--a simple frame around a simple picture no bigger than something that could fit on the mantle or on a desk corner. But it was him--probably around two years old, his blonde hair messy, probably from whatever his toddler self was doing the moment the picture was taken--and Egon, together. Oscar’s laughing in the picture, hanging off his uncle. Egon’s looking down at him in the picture, gray already coloring the hair at his temples, and he’s smiling .

His eyes stayed locked on the picture before carefully taking it down and holding it close as he ascended the stairs and went to his old childhood room--now it was the guest room.

Holding it close to his chest, Oscar sat on the edge of the mattress and closed his eyes, finally letting the tears that had been building up inside fall down.

I missed you so much .