Max woke up at three in morning on a Tuesday night- or rather, a Wednesday morning. He blinked, internally groaned and rolled over, cursing whatever must have awakened him and futilely trying to go back to sleep. Just as he was about to fall asleep again, he heard it.
Quiet, but not quiet enough to be inaudible. Loud enough to wake someone up, even, if said person slept as lightly as Max did. Resigning himself to his fate, Max sat up and stretched, waiting for the sound to come again so he would at least know in which direction he needed to start walking in. He figured it was probably PJ or some other spirit. It wouldn't be the first time, unfortunately.
And, barely half a minute of waiting later, it did indeed come again. Max froze. It was a sadly familiar sound, one he had the privilege to hear often in his younger years in his role of Big Brother. For some reason, Zoey was crying.
He stood up and marched, still somewhat sleepily, to his little sister's room. He opened the door quietly, not sure if he wanted her to be asleep or awake, and saw her shivering form on her bed, easily dwarfed by her blankets. He tiptoed to her side and put a gentle hand on where he assumed her arm and/or shoulder was.
"Hey," he whispered softly, "Zoey? Are you okay?" The shaking stopped, suddenly tense, before a tear-stained face peered from within the cocoon of blankets.
"...Max?" She asked tentatively.
"Yeah?" he smiled as warmly and reassuringly as he could. He never felt comfortable in these situations, nowadays he rarely smiled genuinely, after all. Zoey's arms shot out of the cocoon and wrapped around his own as she swallowed. Max said nothing, waiting patiently.
"... I don't remember what mum looks like." She said, a strange emotion in her eyes- a mix between fear and disbelief. Max felt his jaw clench and his eyes sting as Zoey's grip on his arm tightened. He didn't think he'd ever forget his mother's face, but Zoey and been young at the time and, logically, he knew this would happen eventually. He knew it would happen to him eventually. The thought chilled him to his bones.
He forced himself to relax and found her increasingly-panicked gaze once more. He wanted to say something, but he didn't know what to say. There was a reason he only ever spoke in snark and sarcasm.
Instead, he stood up jabbed her side. "Shuffle." He said. A few seconds passed as she processed what he'd said. She sniffed and moved to the other edge of the bed, allowing Max to climb in with her. He didn't say anything, there was no need for words as she sobbed into his pajama shirt. He held her, rubbing soothing circles (at least, he hoped it was soothing) on her back and kissed her forehead.
It was oddly surreal. It wasn't the first time he'd done this, he'd done even before the Crash, but it had been a while since she'd decided that she was old enough to not need her brother anymore. He didn't know how long it took, he didn't particularly care either, but she finally started to calm down. She sniffed a few more times while her hold never wavered on his shirt and muttered a muffled "thank you" from her position.
He stayed with her the entire night, her own personal doll, and if he was late to school the next morning? It wasn't anything new and Zoey reluctantly (gratefully) gave him her slice of pizza at dinner the next night.