Tony didn't remember anything particularly special happening. He'd been watching TV, when suddenly Rose bolted up from the sofa. She moved to her phone and tapped out a message, then set her phone down and sighed, biting her lip.
"What's wrong?" Tony ask, flicking the TV off.
"Just heard Mum whispering in my ear," she murmured, sitting on the couch and giving a sad smile. "Never bodes well."
Tony bit his lip. When Mickey's gran had passed, Rose had heard her dad- not Tony's dad, though he wasn't quite clear on how they were different- telling her to call Mickey's. He hadn't picked up, but his gran had, and they'd chatted for a bit before hanging up.
Next morning, she'd been found dead in her bed. Rose had been the last to talk to her.
Tony felt his stomach clench. He wanted to ask so many things- what it sounded like, what she'd said, how- but he was old enough now that he could guess. Mum was dead. She'd been fine that morning when she dropped him off for a week with his sister, But at the same time, he knew that if she'd heard Mum, that most likely meant that Mum had died. He tried not to think that thought, pushed it away.
Numbly, he stood and went into the bathroom to shower. Once under the spray, however, he broke down sobbing, relying on the fan and the sound of the spray to keep Rose from hearing him. No. No no no no no. She couldn't- not Mum. She couldn't be dead.
But he couldn't help remembering that the living didn't tend to speak to people across the country without a phone. Numbly, he prayed to whatever deity out there, if they could hear him, that his Mum had met Rose's dad when she passed- that she hadn't died alone.
A/N: A variation of the story above happened to me earlier this evening, and this is my way of coping. I'll probably take it down after a few days, but I've no one else to share with, as it's 2: 28 AM here.
Edit: No bad news, but I think I'll leave this here anyways. I like it.