Under_The_Whispering_Door_by_TJ_Klune

Nelson standing in front of the tea shop, arms folded across their chests, both
of them grinning widely. Underneath this one was a picture of Mei in the
kitchen, flour dotting her face, eyes sparkling, a spatula pointed at the
camera.
And on and on they went, at least a dozen more, telling a story of a life
lived with strength and love.
“This is wonderful,” Wallace said, studying a photograph of a young Hugo
on the shoulders of a man who looked to be his father. The man had a thick,
bushy mustache and a devious spark in his eyes.
“They help me remember,” Hugo said quietly, closing the door behind
him. “All that I have. All that I’ve had.”
“You’ll see them again.”
“You think so?”
He nodded. “Maybe I can find them first. I can … I don’t know. Tell them
about you. All that you’ve done. They’ll be so proud of you.”
Hugo said, “This isn’t easy for me.”
Wallace turned around in air. Hugo frowned, his forehead lined. He
reached up and slid the bandana off his head. “What isn’t easy?”
“This,” Hugo said, motioning between the two of them. “You and me. I
spend my life talking, talking, talking. People like you come to me, and I tell
them about the world they’re leaving behind, and what lies ahead. How
there’s nothing to fear and that they will find peace again even when they’re
at their lowest.”
“But?”
Hugo shook his head. “I don’t know what to do with you. I don’t know
how to say what I want to say.”
“You don’t have to do anything with—”
“Don’t,” Hugo said hoarsely. “Don’t say that. You know that’s not true.”
He dropped the bandana to the floor. “I want to do everything with you.”
Then, in a whisper, as if saying it any louder would break them completely,
Hugo said, “I don’t want you to go.”
Six little words. Six words no one had ever said to Wallace Price before.
They were fragile, and he took them in, holding them close.
Hugo lifted his apron above his head, letting it fall next to the bandana. He
toed off his shoes. His socks were white, a hole near one of his toes.
Wallace said, “I…”