Tom hated the orphanage, there was no doubt about that.
It was dirty and worn down, it was always freezing in the winter, and overly hot in the summer. But the worse part had to be the other occupants.
He was better than the other children around him, who were only concerned about playing one stupid game or another, and making friends with each other.
Tom was smarter than them, better than them, and if that meant that the only friend he had was himself, than all the better. He didn't need, or want, someone constantly bothering him, and taking his attention away from his books.
He was better off by himself.
That being said, he was more than a little confused to find himself outside, sitting on the ground on one side of the black gate that went around the entire orphanage, facing a boy who was seated on the other side, the yard empty save for the two of them.
Tom didn't recognize the boy on the other side of the fence, though he was wearing clothes as equally worn down as Tom's, and looked to be about the same age as him, he knew that the boy wasn't from the orphanage.
The boy had messy black hair, skin as pale as Tom's, bright green eyes, and a hand shaped bruise on one skinny arm.
"Who are you?" Tom asked, staring at the boy with narrowed eyes.
"No one. Who are you?" the boy said, his head tilted slightly to the side in curiosity.
"Tom, and that wasn't an answer. What's your name?"
"Hmm, I don't think that I'll tell you, at least not yet." the boy said, an irritating little smile on his face that Tom couldn't help but feel annoyed by.
First the boy says that he's no one, and then he refuses to give his name after Tom gave his. Who did he think that he was talking to?
"Well, no one, I'm sorry, but I don't have time to talk to people that don't exist."
"Really? Do you have someone to talk to then? Because it doesn't seem like it."
"What would you know-!"
"I know enough. You're like me, I can tell. You're alone, but you don't have to be, not anymore.
You're a someone that could use a no one, and I'm a no one that could use a someone. "
"I don't need anyone," Tom corrected, "I'm fine by myself, it doesn't matter if I'm alone."
"You might not need anyone, but it would be nice to have a friend, at least I think so, I've never actually had a friend before." the boy said, though it was like he was partially talking to Tom, and partially to himself
"Why should I-" Tom started to ask, before he was cut off.
"Why not?" the boy asked, sticking his hand through the bars of the fence.
Tom was brought up short by the boy's question, and he looked at his hand for a long second, debating with himself about whether or not he should take it.
He still didn't feel like he needed a friend, and he didn't know why, but something about the boy felt different from everyone else that he knew. After all, there had to be some reason why Tom had continued to talk to the boy, when if it was anyone else, he wouldn't even bother looking at them. The boy somewhat reminded Tom of himself, so maybe it would be fine if the one friend he had was like him.
Decision made, Tom brought his own hand up to take the boys.
"Fine." Tom said, shaking the boy's hand, "Now will you tell me your name?"
"Next time. It was nice talking to you, but you have to wake up now Tom." the boy said, letting go of his hand as he moved to stand up, leaving Tom to stare up at him in confusion.
"Wake up? What-" Tom started to ask, but between one blink of his eyes and the next, he was no longer staring up at the boy, or in the yard of the orphanage. Instead, he was staring up at the water stained ceiling of his room, the old scratchy blanket he used to cover himself up with prickling at his skin.
He slowly sat up, and looked at his hand, which still held a faint warmth from when the boy that he had apparently dreamed about had held it.
Everything pointed towards him having dreamed the whole thing up, but he wasn't pathetic enough to have dreamed up a friend because he was feeling lonely.
No, the only answer was that the boy really was like him, was special like him, with the power to enter other people's dreams.
He knew that he was right to think that the boy was different, and now all he had to do was wait until the next time he fell asleep to question him about it.