Chapter Text
You wanted to fool yourself into saying you didn't remember any moments from your childhood.
Whenever a question came up about your mother or your aunt, asking what you remembered from each trip, like when your cousin pushed you into the pool or when you fell down those hotel stairs because you tried to hurry and not miss the ice cream they had promised.
Yeah, they were supposed to be happy memories, moments that came from your mother's mouth whenever she tried to start even the smallest conversation, but the most that ever came out of your mouth was no more than three words.
"I don't remember." Three words that kept being repeated over and over.
You didn't want to make her feel bad. You didn't want that woman to feel like she was losing her connection with one of her two children, but even when everything was supposed to turn out perfect, you only felt stranger.
You didn't want to remember anything that had happened before you were sixteen, those fake moments that had been filled with regret because of one single person.
It was like poison had entered through your spine and spread throughout your entire body, your mind, everything that was supposed to comfort you.
But in those joyful moments, the few you had left in the hollow peace of your mind, the ones that always reigned were the ones involving your father.
Your whole life, you thought you would've preferred to have lived with only your mother than to witness the constant abuse every single day in your own home.
And of course, as you grew older, you became the main target of his rage, just as you came to realize what a disgrace you had as a father.
You had always seen him with a bottle in his hands, waiting for the moment his peace was interrupted by the lack of alcohol or simply by the presence of your mother, your sister, or you, so he could direct his yelling and blows at all of you.
Out of your few memories, the most recent ones were the ones that made your hands begin to sweat, even though you didn't actually feel any heat during the drive. The weather was cool enough that they had decided to keep the windows closed.
You were surprised by your own outburst when you tried to shove your father off of you, feeling the vein in your neck throb, your face flushed red, and your right hand clenched into a fist.
You hadn't even cared about the times he had yanked you around while trying to move you. At that moment, you had become his problem to get off of him.
You had mixed up your own screams, unable to tell whether they were your mother's as she tried to pull the two of you apart, your little sister's crying, or if all that pain bottled up over sixteen years had come pouring out of your own mouth.
Your mother. She tried to protect you whenever she could, throwing herself over your body when you were younger than eleven, trying to shield you from those violent outbursts aimed at both of you.
But there wasn't much she could do. Before either of you realized it, you had become taller than her. She was a victim just like you. She couldn't always protect you.
But seeing her terrified face, screaming for the two of you to stop, shouting your father's name, begging him to stop beating you, pulling at his clothes however she could, her nails scratching at anything they could reach with the little strength she had left, desperately trying to stop things from getting even worse.
Her frightened eyes, her panic as she watched you and that man on the floor, seeing her worst fear unfold right before her eyes. The anger of her husband and her son.
Without even knowing what had come over you because of the adrenaline surging through your body, all your body knew how to do was defend itself, your mother, and your little sister.
Those eyes filled with fear, how red they had become from the endless tears streaming down them, and the trembling in her pupils.
"Honey?" A gentle voice pulled you out of your trance.
You looked up toward the woman sitting beside you. Her hands rested on the steering wheel, and her eyes, deep yet endlessly gentle, briefly turned toward you before returning to the road. The whites of her eyes were still clear, no irritation, no dried tears. The dark circles beneath them were much more noticeable now, just like her tired eyelids.
Her pupils weren't trembling anymore.
"Everything okay?" she asked. Always using that tone whenever she sensed you were hiding your discomfort. Her hand reached out to adjust the rearview mirror in front of both of you, glancing at your little sister sleeping in the back seat.
Your head had been resting against the car window in the passenger seat. You hadn't even realized you'd been staring at the dashboard in front of you this whole time. Your eyes immediately began to burn the moment you finally blinked.
"Yeah," you muttered quickly, running your fingers over the corners of your eyes, feeling the familiar dampness beneath your closed eyelids as the stinging slowly faded.
God, you must've looked insane, staring at the dusty glove compartment without blinking for who knew how long.
You heard a quiet chuckle at your reaction. Daydreaming probably wasn't the healthiest thing to do if you wanted to keep your corneas.
You lifted your gaze, trying to figure out how much of the drive you had missed.
You could see the road, the white lane markings already fading into the dark asphalt, barely visible, showing just how many cars had passed through. It seemed almost empty, with nothing but tall trees lining the road, their leafy branches shrouded in mist.
"I think we're almost there. You didn't miss much," your mother commented, still keeping her eyes on the road, though she offered you a gentle smile.
She always tried to look calm in front of you.
Though not always. You could still notice the tension in her hands whenever she gripped the steering wheel.
They had been driving for several hours. It had probably felt much shorter because you'd managed to get some sleep after you and your mother had taken turns driving. You had left the wheel in her hands.
The memories of that fight back at your old house still ate away at you.
It had been the last straw. Enough to make your mother finally open her eyes and realize what her husband was capable of, how far he was willing to go until both you and him ended up with fractured knuckles, leaving the rotting wooden floor stained with blood, even having the audacity to throw a glass bottle straight at your face.
In your case, it had left behind a few cuts before the three of you left, thanks to that bottle he had thrown at you without a shred of remorse. You managed to keep shards of glass from embedding themselves in your face, leaving them in your hands instead as they instinctively shielded you.
That very night, your desperate mother immediately called your aunt, begging through the phone for someone to answer her plea as soon as possible, on the verge of breaking down into sobs once again.
Nockfell.
It was the quickest way out. An immediate move, escaping the hands of the man who had done so much damage to your lives.
You knew your aunt lived in a town up north, not too far from the city where you had lived, just far enough for the drive to take three hours without being too exhausting, requiring only one switch between your mom and you at the wheel. You were grateful you'd learned to drive quickly, to keep your hands steady on the steering wheel without stalling the clutch from nervously mixing up the three pedals at your feet.
You learned from your mom herself that your aunt had immediately spoken with the landlord of the apartment building where she lived, quickly arranging the purchase of one of the apartments, 403.
You never even found out whether there had been any paperwork involved to get the place, because your mother had spent the previous night getting ready after her husband left once again for work, only hurrying you to pack everything you could fit into a single suitcase and the backpack that was supposed to be only for school. You stuffed your clothes inside in a rush without checking if you had forgotten anything, cramming almost all of your belongings into one backpack.
You were going to miss your Walkman.
It seemed your mom had even planned what time to leave so the neighbors wouldn't suspect three people were leaving. Especially not your dad.
All throughout that night, and now what seemed to be early morning, since the sun had barely begun to peek over the horizon... or at least that's what you thought with the sky still covered in stormy gray clouds, making it impossible to tell the time, though you assumed it was still early.
"You barely slept. You should lie down once we get there." Her voice interrupted your thoughts again.
"And who's going to help you carry the suitcases? Luna can barely carry her stuffed animal."
It was the longest sentence you'd spoken since the night before, and your throat still felt dry from barely using your voice during that short time.
"It's not like we have that many things, sweetheart. I can carry everything by myself. Besides, your aunt and your cousin will be there. They'll help me."
Oh, right. You'd forgotten your cousin lived in the same building you were moving into.
How long had it been since you'd seen him? Since you were both eleven?
"No way. We don't even know if that place has an elevator or just stairs. I'm not sleeping until I help you."
"You're always so stubborn, you know that?"
The two of you let out a quiet chuckle. At least there was finally a little peace between you and your mother.
The sound of the engine was the only thing filling your ears after that. Until you noticed a green sign coming into view. It was a faded grayish green, with chipped paint exposing the metal beneath, and in white letters you could read, "Nockfell."
You had arrived.
Soon, from a distance, a few buildings began to appear. Even from where you sat, it was obvious their walls were worn with age. The grayish color of the structures gave the morning an even more melancholic feeling.
You turned your head toward the back seat, noticing a little dark-haired girl sleeping soundly, stretched across the empty seats beside two backpacks and the stuffed animal she was hugging in her sleep.
Yeah, your nine-year-old sister was sleeping as if she'd been the one driving for three straight hours since last night. You couldn't blame her. She hadn't slept well either in a house where abuse had become routine.
Then you felt the car gradually slow down until, just as you leaned your head against the seat, it pulled into a small parking lot in front of what looked like Addison Apartments.
Your new home looked more or less like you had imagined.
The building was tall, though not as tall as many others you'd seen. Still, this one seemed to carry a long history. Its reddish bricks were left exposed instead of being completely painted over, green trim framed the windows, and a green wooden front door seemed to welcome anyone who entered.
With a sigh, the two of you got out of the car, stretching your legs. You focused on the delicate task of waking your little sister, opening the back door of the SUV before reaching in and gently shaking her. It only took a bit of jostling for her to immediately open her eyes and push you away with a sleepy groan.
"Are we here already?" Her voice was quiet, but loud enough for your mom to open the trunk, revealing three suitcases.
"Yes, sweetheart. Time to get our things." The adult spoke to Luna, who was already sitting up as she let out a yawn into the chilly air.
You ended up with two suitcases in your hands. One of them had lost the handle you used to pull it on its wheels—you couldn't even remember how—and now you had no choice but to carry it under one arm. You were thankful you were in good shape, enough to handle the suitcase that looked like it had been packed to the brim, probably with your mother's belongings.
"Sweetheart, take these up to the apartment first. I'll be right behind you. Luna, you go up too," your mother instructed as she pulled another suitcase out.
You nodded, and the younger girl copied you.
Luna opened the door for you since your hands were full, looking around at the yellowed wallpaper and the beige flooring made of the same cheap material you'd seen countless times before. You were already tired of seeing the exact same floor everywhere.
Luckily, there was an elevator at the end of the hallway, which was mostly empty of furniture. At least you wouldn't have to run up the stairs carrying two suitcases under your arms with a half-asleep little girl following behind you.
With a soft ding after pressing the button, the elevator doors opened. You stepped inside with Luna, asking her to press the fourth floor before the doors slid shut again with a metallic creak.
When it stopped, the doors opened onto a hallway decorated just like the lobby. Yellow striped wallpaper, the same beige floor, the only difference being that the apartment doors were painted the same green as the entrance, each with a silver number plate.
"Which door are we going to?" the younger girl asked, rubbing her eyes, her cheeks still pink from the cold outside.
"403."
Just as you started walking toward your new home, you were surprised to see the green door with that very number swing open. Two heads peeked out, leaving you wondering who could possibly be standing there.
The first belonged to a tall guy, around your height, with long straight brown hair lazily brushed back, wearing a simple red hoodie with his hands tucked into the pockets of his blue jeans. You didn't recognize him at all. He was a complete stranger, though the dark circles under his eyes stood out immediately.
Then you noticed a second head, a little shorter. He had wavy green hair that fell just below his shoulders and wore a black winter beanie. There were noticeable blemishes across his cheeks, probably acne, and he was wearing a white hoodie with a pair of simple blue pants.
Oh, you definitely recognized the second guy.
Before you even had time to react, the green-haired boy came running toward you at full speed, happily shouting as he closed the distance.
Yeah, that guy was your cousin.
You were happy to see him again after so many years, but then you remembered you were carrying two suitcases and your little sister was standing right beside you, just as surprised by Miles's excited yell. She simply leaned against the wall in shock. She already knew what was about to happen.
You didn't even manage to say a single word before a body slammed into yours. It didn't knock you over completely, but it was enough to make you drop both suitcases and struggle to keep your balance from the impact.
The thud of the suitcases hitting the floor, followed by someone else's laughter, echoed in your ears. You were much more focused on making sure your back hadn't just broken.
"How long has it been since I last saw you?" Miles exclaimed again, hugging you without hesitation, completely ignoring the two other people standing behind you.
"Good to see you too, Miles," you murmured with a faint smile, enough for him not to take your reaction the wrong way.
You gave him a few pats on the back before he finally pulled away, letting you see his face.
Miles crouched down, now turning his full attention to your little sister, who had simply remained standing beside the two of you. She had only just woken up a few minutes ago and probably hadn't even processed everything that had just happened.
"Hi, Luna! I'm really happy to see you too." His voice softened as he patted her on the head. Luna probably barely remembered Miles. She'd been born when the two of you were seven, and the last time you'd all seen each other was when you were eleven.
"Hi, Miles," she replied quietly, her voice still sleepy, though she wore a small gentle smile.
"Dude, you shot out like a bullet."
The person standing behind Miles finally spoke, making you realize he was talking to him.
You figured he must've been a friend or another resident of the building.
"Sorry! It's just that I haven't seen them in forever. We were always together as kids." Miles's cheerful voice rang out once again. You wondered if the crashing suitcases and his earlier shout had bothered your new neighbors, but nobody else seemed to poke their head out.
"This is Larry. He lives in the basement," your cousin introduced enthusiastically, slinging an arm over the taller guy's shoulder.
"Nice to meet you. Miles has been talking about you all week. My ears were about ready to fall off." He huffed at the end of the sentence, earning a playful shove from Miles as they both laughed.
"I know. He can be pretty loud," you replied quietly.
You felt a bit awkward standing in the middle of the interaction between the two friends. It was obvious they'd known each other for a long time. You felt a little out of place, but your attention quickly shifted when Luna lifted one of the suitcases and nudged it against your leg.
You took it without much trouble, reaching for the handle of the other one still lying to your left, but you didn't get the chance because someone else's hand grabbed it first.
"Let me help you, dude." Larry reached down, easily dragging the heavy suitcase. You silently appreciated it.
Larry was almost your height, maybe only a couple of centimeters shorter. He had a mole beneath one of his eyes, both of which were surrounded by heavy dark circles, almost as though he hadn't slept in days. The lazy drawl in his voice only reinforced that suspicion, though he still sounded cheerful enough while offering to carry one of the heavy suitcases.
"Oh, right! Larry and I were already inside your new place because my mom asked us to open it up and get the keys from Mr. Addison." Miles hurried back toward apartment 403. "That door hadn't been opened since last year. It was completely stuck.”
You simply nodded, following the three of them. Luna seemed slightly uncomfortable. You noticed how quiet she had become for someone who was usually so restless. You could understand why—being around two people and another person she couldn't even remember had to be awkward for her.
"So... did you guys kick the door open?"
"Nah, it just squeaks, but the latch was jammed, so Larry wanted to make sure everything was okay too."
"My mom's the janitor here. She asked me to check that there weren't any problems with the apartment."
"Thanks. Miles would've kicked it open."
Larry let out a laugh at your quiet comment. He seemed like a nice guy so far. And speaking of the devil, Miles was already inside apartment 403, holding the door open for Luna, whose eyes wandered around the place, just like yours did.
"I guess your mom already told you, but it's not that big. Three bedrooms, a kitchen, a living room, and one bathroom." Larry was the one who spoke, setting the suitcase he'd been dragging near the entrance.
"Why is it so dark?" Luna asked as she looked around the dim apartment.
"The light bulbs haven't been changed in a while. They've got themselves a pretty nice cave now." Larry joked in response, making Luna let out a quiet giggle.
The wallpaper was just as yellow as the one in the hallways, except this one had thin darker yellow lines that leaned toward beige. It looked like the apartment already came furnished. Your mom hadn't really told you anything about paying for the place, nor had she mentioned it already having furniture. Everything that had happened before hadn't given her the chance to properly talk to either you or your sister, only to prepare to leave the house the moment your dad stepped out.
"Catch."
The moment you dropped the suitcase with the missing wheel onto the couch, a set of keys flew straight toward your chest. You caught them immediately, saving yourself from hearing the loud clatter of metal hitting the floor and embarrassing yourself because of your awful reflexes.
The apartment keys.
You thanked them, looking back at the two of them, who were already watching you.
"I've gotta go get the rest of the stuff."
"We'll help."
They both spoke at the exact same time.
You'd definitely realized by now that the two of them probably shared the same brain cell. The only difference was that Larry had a slightly raspy voice, while Miles seemed endlessly energetic whenever it came to helping.
You turned your head to see that Luna had already wandered off to explore the apartment. She stretched her arms high enough to pull open the curtains in the living room, sending dust floating into the air from the sudden movement, making her shake her head as she tried to let some sunlight in.
"How long has it been since this place was cleaned?" she commented before wandering down the small hallway connecting the kitchen to the living room, disappearing as one of the doors creaked open while she inspected it.
"This one's definitely gonna be my room!"
Judging by her excited, high-pitched voice, you guessed she'd found the biggest bedroom.
The laughter of the two guys behind you confirmed your suspicion. You couldn't help smiling a little yourself.
The three of you eventually headed back to the elevator, Miles repeatedly pressing the button to go down to the lobby. You kept your hands in your pockets, feeling the cold metal apartment keys against your fingertips.
"I live in 401, so feel free to come invade my place whenever you want, just like I'm gonna invade yours."
"How comforting, Miles."
You noticed he was leaning against one corner of the elevator, Larry standing beside him.
"He says that like he doesn't already walk into my place without knocking," Larry added, giving Miles a suspicious look while leaning comfortably against the old elevator that creaked as it moved between floors.
"We should have a sleepover tonight with everyone else! Then they won't complain about me invading their apartments."
"Miles, I literally just got here. I still have to help my mom unpack everything. Besides... who's 'everyone'?"
"Then we'll do it whenever you can, man." Miles rolled his eyes. "And by everyone, I mean our friends!" he added cheerfully, throwing himself under Larry's arm, who happily wrapped it around the shorter boy's shoulders.
"You should meet them. Todd lives in 202. Sally lives right next door to you—lucky you."
Miles kept talking.
"Chug's in 303. You can usually find him downstairs by the vending machine in the basement."
"Ashley, Maple, and Violet don't live here, unfortunately, but they usually come over to sleep or just hang out."
Your cousin kept listing names of people you didn't know as though you'd already been introduced to the whole building. Larry seemed more aware of your confusion as he looked over at Miles.
"They're our friends. We spend a lot of time together, but I think it'd be better to let you settle in first."
The brunet lightly jostled Miles under his arm after saying that. Miles had always been someone who talked nonstop, even when nobody fully understood what he was saying.
"Yeah, yeah! Sorry, dude, I just really want you to meet them. It's been forever since I've seen you."
"You make it sound like centuries have passed."
Your voice echoed slightly inside the cramped metal elevator.
"Five years is a long time!"
"We talked on the phone all the time."
That finally shut Miles up. He simply frowned at you with an obviously fake look of annoyance, making Larry burst into laughter at the exchange.
The elevator doors opened once more with a squeal, welcoming you back into the lobby. You turned the cold green doorknob, stepping outside into the gray, nearly empty street with only a few parked cars. The cold air wrapped around the three of you immediately, nothing like the warmer atmosphere inside the building. Winter was creeping through the streets of Nockfell.
You spotted your mom's SUV, noticing there were now two more women standing beside it, gathered near one of the half-open doors.
You recognized the straight dark green hair and the glasses resting on the bridge of her nose. Your aunt, the mother of your cousin Miles, who was still tucked beneath Larry's arm. The second woman was unfamiliar. She had straight brown hair with side-swept bangs and looked to be wearing a janitor's uniform.
The sound of your name pulled you from your thoughts just as one of the women walked over and kissed your cheek. You hadn't expected it, but when your aunt immediately wrapped you in a hug, you couldn't exactly pull away. She had a much calmer personality than her son, who had practically tackled you to the floor the moment he saw you.
"Sweetheart, how have you been? You've gotten so tall."
Your aunt Rosa spoke as she held your shoulders, rubbing her cold hands over your tense arms while looking you up and down.
"Hi, Aunt Rosa. I've been okay."
You replied with a smile just warm enough to be polite.
Both your gaze and hers shifted back toward your mom and the other woman standing beside the gray SUV. The woman wore a calm, gentle smile.
"This is Lisa. She lives here with her son Larry, and I think you've already met."
Your aunt introduced her, and the woman returned your greeting.
"Welcome. I hope the three of you feel comfortable here."
Her voice reminded you of your mother's—not because of the tone itself, but because of the way she spoke. Even that short sentence carried a calming warmth. She had the kind of motherly voice that could put anyone at ease.
You noticed Larry was still standing beside you along with Miles, no longer trapped under his arm.
Well, like mother, like son.
Now it was obvious Lisa was his mom. They looked a lot alike.
Your mom called your name as she pulled more things out of the trunk.
"Could you take the rest of this upstairs? You can wait for me there. I'm going to talk with your aunt and Lisa."
She also asked the guys beside you if they could help carry everything up.
Well... it looked like you'd be hauling everything after all.
Your mom thanked the three of you before you all started carrying the remaining suitcases and boxes up to apartment 403.
Of course, going back and forth wasn't pleasant with the constant change in temperature. Outside was freezing, while inside the building was warm enough that all three of your cheeks ended up flushed after so many trips.
Since when had you started looking for the bright side of things?
You hated everything.
The rest of the day passed quickly.
By the time you reached your apartment again, you'd finished carrying everything upstairs with Larry's and Miles's help. The two of them ended up chatting for a while. It wasn't that you disliked socializing, but it was obvious they had far more to talk about than you did. Even so, they still seemed determined to include you in the conversation, even if all you did was listen.
You liked Larry. He'd been friendly without forcing you to talk or trying to pry words out of you. He seemed like a good guy. You also couldn't ignore the smell of marijuana clinging to him. You recognized it instantly, mixed with what seemed like deodorant in an attempt to cover it up. If you had the chance, you'd probably relax by smoking too. The most you'd ever done, though, was smoke two cigarettes in your life—never a joint.
Either way, he headed home once the three mothers arrived at the apartment. Your mom, Julia, said goodbye to Larry and Lisa. Meanwhile, Miles and your aunt decided to stay a little longer, coming up with the brilliant idea of helping unpack.
It wasn't as though you'd brought any furniture. Most of what you'd moved consisted of larger items that couldn't fit inside a suitcase, along with your worn-out backpack that you tossed into your room before getting to work organizing most of your belongings.
You'd explored the apartment a little while helping with whatever your mom asked you to put away.
Eventually, both you and Miles were freed from any more chores, letting you head to your room to unpack your own things. You could hear your mom and your aunt talking quietly, probably in the kitchen. You didn't bother listening. You'd rather talk to your mom about everything privately.
Luna seemed to be doing the same. You offered to help your little sister unpack, but she refused, claiming you had terrible taste in decorating and organizing, earning a mocking laugh from Miles at the insult. Of course, she hadn't been allowed to keep the biggest bedroom with the bed already inside, leaving her pouting as she unpacked her own things.
—
You took the clothes you'd been carrying in your backpack, stacking them on top of a mattress that had kindly been left there, being the only one available in the spare room. Apparently, Luna would have to sleep with Julia until they managed to get her own bed. You'd be sleeping on the floor—better that than sleeping with your mom.
That green-haired guy wandered around the room. He seemed a little thoughtful. Ever since he came back into the apartment, he'd been a bit more... quiet, as if he knew something about this place.
He'd lived in Addison ever since he was eleven, so you figured he had to know something, but you didn't really feel like asking anything that might make Miles open his mouth and say too much. You didn't want to make things awkward, and he was good at starting conversations. You definitely weren't.
"Dude, I didn't know you had such terrible taste in clothes." A head popped up over your left shoulder. He was wearing a low ponytail now. You hadn't noticed when his winter beanie had disappeared so he could tie up his hair.
You pushed him away by placing a hand on his face, earning a laugh that showed the braces on his crooked teeth. He had an infectious laugh.
"It's not like I enjoy shopping for clothes that much." You replied. Most of your clothes were dark-colored, all piled together without even being folded. You'd stuffed everything into your bag, even your dirty laundry, just so you wouldn't waste time before leaving home.
"That's why it's better to design your own. See this sweater? I bought it completely white, but Larry decided to take it and paint the name of some band on it. I can't even read the letters, but it looks awesome!" Miles grabbed the collar of his sweater, proudly showing you the design on the front before spinning around and pointing both thumbs over his shoulders at the back, which also had writing you couldn't make out.
"Ash bought fabric paint, but Larry wanted to use bleach because it gave better contrast. Though afterward his whole room smelled awful, and Todd even ended up with swollen eyes because Violet spilled the bottle all over the carpet." His voice sounded more amused the more he talked about it, looking down at the design on his hoodie as he remembered.
"I think I'd rather spend hours in a store with my mom than get poisoned. Thanks for opening my eyes." Your response earned a laugh and a shove against your back. You managed to catch yourself on the mattress, unable to stop a crooked smile from appearing.
"By the way, are you planning to decorate this place?" Miles stretched out his arms in the middle of your room, looking around curiously.
"I don't know. I barely have anything."
"Correct answer. This weekend we're going shopping for whatever we can find to fill these disgusting walls. Ashley likes making plushies—you could hang some above your... future bed." He pointed toward the mattress, now covered with neatly folded piles of clothes.
"Larry might like giving you one of his paintings." He pointed toward the wall in front of him. "Todd's room is half-empty except for computers, so let's ignore him. Violet knows how to make jewelry, she could give you a few keychains." He pointed toward your backpack beside you, visibly worn out and covered with a patch.
"Sally always knows how to fill empty spaces. I'm sure he could help finish your room too." Sally. You remembered he was supposed to live right next door, in 402.
Miles flopped down onto the mattress, sending a huge cloud of dust into the air from his sudden weight. You covered your face, but the familiar smell of dust immediately filled your nose, making you shake your head while complaining to your cousin. Miles laughed at your reaction, though it didn't take long before he was waving a hand in front of his own face too.
"Dude, are you seriously going to sleep here? Your bed's falling apart."
"I think I'll sleep on the floor."
"Better sleep in my room. I don't think your mom will mind."
It didn't sound like a bad idea. You should've realized this mattress had probably been sitting here for decades without any care. You regretted that the clothes you'd just carefully folded before putting them in the closet were now covered in dust.
"Alright, just let me put this away. I'm not washing all my clothes again."
Miles seemed guilty about covering both of you in dust, but his regret disappeared as soon as he started laughing again.
The same Miles you remembered from five years ago.
You decided to put your clothes away in the closet, knock on your mom's door, and ask for permission. It wasn't difficult. She seemed busy looking over some papers while sitting on her new bed covered in blankets. You didn't want to take up much of her time, but she only heard your voice and waved you away without even looking at you or saying anything.
You understood that rebuilding the lives of all three of you in less than twenty-four hours wasn't easy.
You said goodbye to Luna, who was still arranging her stuffed animals on one of the built-in shelves. You grabbed a change of clothes and left with Miles.
The day seemed to have passed quickly. You noticed the lights were already on. You didn't know what time it was, but you figured night had to be falling already. You weren't hungry, not even when Miles mentioned in the elevator that he had frozen pizza in his freezer.
His apartment was exactly like yours. Of course, it had Rosa's personal decorations, different furniture, a television in front of the couch, and the kitchen stayed dark, probably to save electricity.
Rosa greeted you while watching television, her feet resting on the coffee table in front of her, her hair tied into a ponytail, and her glasses sitting lower on the bridge of her nose. It looked like she'd only just gotten comfortable after spending most of the afternoon helping your mom.
Miles's room was completely packed. For starters, there were posters covering the walls, stacks of photos on his nightstand, dirty clothes scattered across a black rug, and, despite being an only child, he had a bunk bed. His walls were painted entirely black, splattered with what looked like intentionally thrown white paint.
"Welcome to my room."
You barely remembered Miles's tastes. You knew he was a huge comic fan, and apparently that hadn't changed. You noticed neatly stacked piles on the floor. You'd never really been into comics yourself. The only one you'd ever read was Daredevil, and only because Miles had lent it to you when you were nine after begging you because he was sure you'd like it.
"It could use a little cleaning."
"You don't get to judge when your mattress was full of dust mites."
Enough to make you glare at him, causing him to laugh at his own comment, though there wasn't any real annoyance between you.
You asked if you could use the bathroom to change into something more comfortable. You didn't want to sleep covered in sweat soaked into cotton and dust.
You looked at yourself in the mirror. You had dark circles beneath your eyes, heavy bags under them. Your eye was still swollen, though not as badly as a few days ago, and the cut on your cheek was still reddish beneath the bandage your mom had put there.
Your hair was still messy. You hadn't brushed it properly. It was tangled and dry. Your hands still ached. Your knuckles were probably still split open beneath the bandages covering them. You hadn't changed them, and you didn't have the energy to make yourself anxious by looking at the cracked, open skin.
Besides, you'd seen your knuckles in worse shape before.
Everything had happened so fast. That man couldn't possibly know where you'd gone, and you hoped he wouldn't care enough to look. He'd stopped caring about his family a long time ago.
You wanted to sleep. You just wanted to sleep, to rest for a while and let the stinging disappear inside your dreams. It had been such a sudden change in your life, but a necessary one. You were in a safe, peaceful place now... right?
You picked up your dirty clothes and tossed them onto one corner of Miles's bunk bed when you came back. Miles had already let his hair down again. He had two plates with hot pizza, one resting on his lap while he sat on the rug, the other beside him, clearly meant for you.
You sat down on the rug, feeling its soft texture beneath you. You picked up the plate, the smell of melted cheese and grease rising with the steam. You took a bite, trying to enjoy the food despite having absolutely no appetite and your stomach threatening to bring back your last meal.
"Wanna play?" He gestured toward the Super Nintendo in front of him, connected to the television sitting on the floor with a pile of figurines on top of the TV.
You nodded while picking up one of the controllers, feeling the plastic beneath your warm hands that had just been holding your slice of pizza. Smiling. You hadn't played any cartridge games before, only a Game Boy you'd had as a kid, though it had broken pretty quickly, earning you a scolding for being so careless with your belongings.
"You've gotten quieter," Miles commented, taking another bite of his pizza while setting up the game on the screen. "Though I'd say you've bulked up. You used to be even skinnier than me." His voice carried a teasing tone.
Right.
You were even taller than him now. You'd put on more muscle. It wasn't like you'd intentionally started working out, but you figured constantly fighting your own father, spending more time on the streets than at home trying to distract yourself by hanging around anywhere, had probably helped. The fights at school were included in that too.
You didn't consider yourself a troublemaker.
You just had very little patience.
From seventh through tenth grade, you hadn't had any friends. Socializing never interested you much, and that also meant idiots kept approaching you just to bother you. Naturally, that led to fights, and you quickly learned that being bigger helped people leave you alone.
You knew people found you intimidating, not just because of your size, but because you always looked like you hated the entire world.
Luna had told you that to your face.
"And your hair? Why'd you decide to grow it out?" you asked.
"I just started liking it. Sally and I cut it together, and then we grew it out together." Sally's name again.
That was the fifth time you'd heard that name in less than an hour.
You couldn't deny you were curious to meet those people. "Though we cut each other's hair, and it always looks awful. Neither of us likes how barbers do it." His mouth was full from another bite of pizza.
You figured Miles was really close with his friends. Deep down, you hoped they'd like you and that you wouldn't end up looking like an idiot after hearing almost everything about them in a single day.
"Actually, about half a year ago, at a party some neighbors threw, Ashley and I ended up burning a chunk of our hair because someone held up a lighter I wanted to use to smoke. Ha!"
You were surprised by the kinds of moments he'd shared with those people.
"It was Sierra, Z, and CJ's party. The three of them live in 301—they're college students. I'm still surprised they let us come to their parties ever since we were in tenth grade." His voice remained casual as he kept talking. You nodded attentively while the two of you watched the screen.
"I'm sorry if I talk a lot about the people here, it's just that I'm excited you're my new neighbor too! I know you'll like everyone, or at least most of them." he explained, obvious embarrassment showing in his eyes when he turned to look at you. You answered with a simple, "It's okay." You couldn't exactly shut him up when he looked so happy.
"You probably won't like Mrs. Gibson very much. She usually gets annoyed by CJ's, Z's, and Sierra's parties, and she doesn't really like us much except for Sally. But she's a lot more distant with Lisa and Larry." he explained, still eating his pizza without taking his eyes off the screen.
"And David! He's nice. I think he's a little weird because we always run into him in his underwear." He mentioned it with a laugh, an infectious laugh that made you crack a smile while listening to him, replying with a simple, "Mm."
"Mr. Addison never opens the door for us. He always talks through the intercom. Though he's really nice. I don't think he likes me very much. He says I'm pretty loud."
"And he wasn't wrong with the welcome you gave me."
"Hey!" He lightly elbowed you in the ribs, both of you laughing a little when you nudged him away.
"Anyway, that's about it, I guess." He muttered the last part, letting the screen bathe the darkness of his room in a greenish glow.
"Are you going to start school?"
"Probably. My mom hasn't said anything about it."
"You haven't talked to her?"
"I haven't had the time. The past few days have been... stressful."
No one said anything after that except for the bites taken from the last slices of pizza that were beginning to cool.
"You must be tired."
"You have no idea."
"Then go to sleep already. Baby bedtime."
"I'm not even going to say anything just because I'm exhausted."
"Uh-huh."
His charisma was still there.
He let you sleep on the top bunk. He just yanked some dirty clothes aside and threw a blanket at your face.
How kind.
His chatter seemed to end with a simple, "Night." You could hear the familiar sound of pages turning, like a magazine being read, along with the faint light from his nightstand switching on below your angle.
Your eyes were fixed on the ceiling now, lying beneath a blanket that kept you warm. You tucked your arms beneath your pillow.
It had been exhausting days.
You were so tired.
You still hadn't properly talked to your mom about everything, and for now, you didn't want to. You'd rather spend the night with Miles.
Maybe even hope to meet new people.
You were worried about money, since your mom apparently hadn't worked since you were born, having been forced into being a housewife. You wondered if people would think you were just some weird neighbor who never talked and looked like he wanted to commit mass murder.
You shouldn't worry.
You should just close your eyes and wait for tomorrow.
You couldn't ask for more. Your eyelids already seemed to be closing on their own in one last attempt to keep you sane a little longer.
A rhythm. Loud. A sound that seemed to shatter your eardrums, tearing through your thoughts as they were invaded by that thunderous noise. It almost felt like your brain—an awful dark void—was burrowing into your damned mind like a tumor.
"I think that's probably Sally. I forgot to mention he's amazing at electric guitar." Now Miles's voice sounded like a tragedy to hear.
It wasn't like the strumming of the strings through what had to be a powerful amplifier was unbearably loud, but hearing someone play just as you were about to pass out into a deep sleep wasn't exactly pleasant, especially with your sensitive hearing.
There was an entire apartment—yours—between his and Miles's, and you could still hear it loud and clear.
Of course, it was only nine at night.
Who goes to sleep that early?
Sally.
You were going to have nightmares about that name now.