Author's Note: I own none of these characters, all belong to Split

An AU where each alter is their own physical person (The beast is not a part of this fanfic.) The characters adhere to the movie but backstories have been changed to fit the au. Casey's uncle still abused her, but her father died when Casey was a much younger age. Dennis and Barry have suffered emotional trauma, but in different ways.

It is my goal to update a couple times a week.

Thank you for reading, I sincerely hope you enjoy!

So maybe it wasn't the best idea she had ever had, but it was an idea.

Casey stood just to the right of a worn green door, staring at the gold letters.

Apt. 8B.

She had stared at that number all morning in the little ad posted in the classifieds that no one ever read anymore. She pulled out the scrap of newspaper and checked the address for the dozenth time, just to be sure.

Maybe if she just stood here long enough, the door would just open. She knew it wouldn't, but she couldn't seem to get her hands to work. It had been like that all morning, each movement made with stilted hesitancy.

Casey wondered what it would be like to be brave.

With that one thought coursing through her mind, Casey's hands managed to knock on the apartment door.

Nothing happened. No answer, no sounds disturbed the faintly musty air of the hall. Casey frowned, had she knocked wrong?

Was that even possible, to knock wrong? Her hands found their way into her pockets, creasing the words on the scrap of paper Casey now knew by heart.

Seeking roommate. Shared kitchen and bathroom. Affordable. Must be neat.

It was posted with a number to call. It did not sound even remotely appealing in any obvious sense, but those four fragmented sentences had stared Casey down over her bowl of cereal one morning as she looked through the parts of the paper her uncle didn't want.

It had taken her two weeks. Two weeks to gain enough determination to begin to playout the scenario that had danced in her mind since Casey was a child.

The one where she got out. The one where she was free. The one where Casey didn't live in the shadow of a man who was supposed to love her, but never quite got it right.

He tried, sometimes. But that just made it worse.

She debated knocking again, but her hands had already decided they would not be leaving her pockets. With a sigh of resignation, Casey turned down the carpeted hall.

The apartment building wasn't in the best part of town, but it certainly wasn't in the worst either. It was aptly placed in Casey's mind to be fairly safe but still inexpensive. Maybe not the highest standards, but it was all Casey could afford right now.

It was certainly better than the alternative.

The thought managed to work its way to her feet and they paused. What was she doing? Ready to give in and go home just because they hadn't answered the door? What was wrong with her?

But she knew, Casey knew part of her had given up before she had even slipped out this morning. Because most of her knew there was no way this was going to work.

Things were never going to change.

Not unless Casey did something.

Dimly she heard a door shut behind her. She turned abruptly, hit by another momentary wave of courage that would no doubt dissipate in no time, and managed to walk right in to the only other person in the hall.

There was a light grunt of surprise, Casey stumbling backwards from the force of knocking into the man. She felt hands catch her waist, steady her. Her eyes were fixed on the floor as she mumbled out an automatic apology. Just like that her courage evaporated. Then she heard a light, embarrassed laugh that sounded just a little bit like sunshine.

"I'm so sorry, honey, I am such a klutz. You alright, doll?"

His hands were still on her waist, and he had ducked his head a little to peer up into her face. Casey felt her eyes lifting.

He was warm. Blue eyes glimmered with a sincerity, the kind that let you know he saw people as people and not formulated polite responses. Brown hair was short and a little too carefully mussed. And he was smiling at her, the kind of smile that felt like it meant something.

"Oh, y-yeah. I'm fine. Sorry." Casey stammered out after too long of a silence, and felt herself blush.

"You sure?" He moved as if he meant to touch her cheek, brush the hair away that half hid her face. Casey tensed, but he seemed to collect himself.

"Right, boundaries." He stepped back completely from her, cheeks heating a little in embarrassment, "I tend to forget." He gave a nervous laugh as he tucked his hand in the pockets of his tan slacks, rocking back on his heels a little.

"It's okay," Casey's voice wasn't much better than a whisper, and she watched his eyes dart over her features, as if studying her. It was disconcerting, every place his gaze focused on made Casey wonder which fault he was seeing. She hated when people looked at her.

But then he grinned with such ease, "I'm Barry."

He extended a hand and Casey took it. His fingers were long and warm and he shook her hand just a little firmly.

"Casey."

"Well, Casey, you live around here?" His gaze roamed the hall as he took his hand back, and Casey shook her head.

"No, I was, well there was this ad I was checking out."

He didn't seem to mind one bit that she couldn't seem to form coherent sentences.

"Oh yeah, for what place?"

"Um, 8b?" She said it like a question, and watched his mouth pop open.

"Oh!" His palm slapped his forehead as he bounced on his toes, and Casey was distracted by the way Barry didn't just talk with his hands, he talked with his whole body. "I forgot Dennis posted that!"

"Dennis?" Casey questioned, trying to keep up. There was something a little overwhelming about Barry's personality, like getting hit with tidal wave of sunshine. She watched Barry straighten in mocking sternness that Casey wondered at.

"My brother," he raised his brows, then fell back into his relaxed stance, "he posted for a roommate a while back, but we haven't had any replies yet. So, you're interested?"

Casey found it best to just nod and let Barry keep talking, taking in the realization that this man, Barry, was from 8b.

"Hey, I could show you around now. Or did you make an appointment with Dennis to see the place?"

"Well, no." Casey knew it was strange. Showing up unannounced wasn't exactly the polite thing to do. But she was still on her uncle's phone plan and he liked to monitor her calls, to make sure his 'little Casey wasn't getting into trouble,' "I just thought I'd stop by..." She let it hang, sounding as lame as it was, and watched his face turn thoughtful.

"Did you just knock like a minute ago?"

Casey nodded, shifting her feet. The air in the hall was just too warm, and it felt unpleasant as Casey's gaze refocused on the ground. At her nod, Barry smiled,

"I thought I mightof heard something. I was in the back and wasn't sure. Well, come on," He turned on his heel and waved a hand down the hall, "Shall we?"

A key fit the lock and Casey watched as the 8b swung away from her as the door swung open. She stepped inside tentatively after Barry, watching as he ducked under the strap of the black messenger bag that was swung casually over his shoulder. He hung it on a hook on the wall, beside a few hanging jackets in the little alcove just inside of the door. There was a mat beneath her feet, a little table to her right with a little stack of mail. She had only seen about three feet of the apartment and the word 'neat' blinked through her mind.

Barry kicked off of his shoes, Casey fumbling to follow suit. Her black tights were tucked into her soft grey boots, and she caught Barry's amused look when he saw her socks. They were neon striped, a sharp contrast to the even dark tones of the rest of her clothes. She felt her cheeks heat even though Barry didn't comment, and she followed him further into the apartment.

The room opened up, warm tan stretching out to the wall of windows on the far side of the room. Light poured in. Casey found herself moving forward, turning to take in how bright everything was.

She wouldn't have thought, with how dark and musty the hall had been, that it would be so open, so clear. She had been expecting the damp odor of the hall to work its way into the apartment, but the air was scentless, almost sterile.

She took in the living room, the simple set up of furniture and television, all black, and evenly spaced. Everything was clean, exact, the only brush of color was the artwork on the walls. They were abstract pieces of blended colors, systematically placed around the room.

It was almost too perfect, little pieces of what would make a place a home neatly tacked in place, like the staged living room in a designer catalog. It would have seemed cold, but for the streaming sunlight that had taken the room.

"This is the general area, you'd be welcome to use it. Kitchen's through there," Barry gestured to his right, and Casey peaked through the opening, catching sight of stark white cabinets and grey countertop. "Which you'd also be free to."

"It's nice," Casey murmured. Now that she was here, she felt awkward. What was she supposed to do, ask questions? Look around? Barry rocked up on his toes a little, as if debating the same thing.

"So, bathroom's at the end of the hall. It's a pretty good size, but there's only one though. It's clean, though." He said it a bit bashfully, and judging by the state of the living room, Casey didn't doubt it.

"That's fine." It was a mumble inserted into the expectant silence, but Barry didn't seem to notice.

"Oh, and your room would be..." Barry was moving through the hall, leaving her to just follow him. The living room had an area rug of deep green, but the hall was a worn hardwood, scuffed with memories of previous tenants. It was almost calming, seeing those marks on the warm wood. Not everything in this place was perfect.

The last door on the right was opened and Barry motioned her in. It was dark after walking through the living room, a single window with curtain drawn was centered on the opposite wall. The same scuffed floor filled the room, meeting walls of steel grey like four bare panels. It wasn't large, but it was bigger than Casey had hoped, and she felt herself nodding.

There was nothing remarkable about it, but Casey looked around with even eye. It would do.

"This used to be Dennis's room, but he took the larger bedroom so he could use it as his office too. I know it's a little drab, but," He shrugged as if apology, and Casey found herself stammering,

"No. It's fine." He grinned, fully aware that she had already said that, and Casey ducked her head.

"Well," Barry clapped his hands, rubbing them together absently, "I don't know any of the lease details Dennis would want to go over, but after seeing it, are ya still interested?"

"I am," Casey stated, managing a smile, and she watched his eyes warm.

"Well Dennis should be home in about," he slipped his phone out of his pocket to check the time, "twenty-two minutes, if you wanna wait to meet him? Or you could schedule to come back...?

He left it hanging in question, and Casey bit her lip. "No, I can stay, that's-"

"Fine?" he questioned, ending her sentence for her. He laughed freely at the look on her face, "Sorry doll, couldn't help it." But his grin was unrepentant. "Thirsty?" he pushed off from the door jamb he was leaning on, leaving Casey to follow him back down the hall.

She sat on the stool, elbows resting on the counter, watching Barry move about as he grabbed a couple mugs and put on some coffee. He talked. A lot. but Casey didn't mind. It helped give her time to settle her nerves, to focus on something other than what her next few days were going to look like. The counter top was cold beneath her forearms, with little veins of black running through it that Casey's eyes traveled, finding patterns in the chaos.

Barry set her coffee in front of her, and she jumped.

"Sorry doll. You nervous?"

Casey shrugged, fingers pulling the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands. "Maybe, a little? This is my first time trying the whole roommates thing."

Barry nodded in understanding, shifting so he leaned against the counter across from her. His pale blue sweater pulled across his shoulders as his forearms met the counter, his coffee held between steepled fingers. Casey was surprised by the way the sweater tightened on his arms as it stretched, at the lines of strength there. Barry didn't seem that big when he moved, but looking at him now, it was obvious he was strong. His features were warm, eyes a blue that shone with a teasing light that was layered with kindness. His entire presence was, in that moment, oddly comforting, and Casey found herself relaxing even as he told her not to worry.

"Dennis can come across a bit stern, but just answer his questions and you'll be fine. He likes things a certain way, but other than that, he keeps to himself, so don't let him run you off."

Casey's brow rose at the warning, but Barry suddenly tapped the counter.

"I gotta get something from my room. I'll be back."

He had only been gone a minute, Casey still sitting in quiet thought, when she heard the front door click open. She hopped up, eyes darting to the place Barry had gone, hoping he would come back before the footsteps she heard in the outer hall drew any closer. But it was just her luck that she was completely alone when a man rounded the corner and stepped into the kitchen.

He came to a dead stop, eyes locking on her in a gaze that made Casey a little cold. He was bigger than Barry, much bigger. They shared similar features, same eyes, same mouth, but his had been hardened and Casey found herself taking a tiny step back.

"Who are you." His rough voice clashed with an accent thicker than Barry's, and Casey swallowed.

"Casey." It was a pathetic whisper and she cleared her throat, "I, uh, I'm here about the room? For rent? the roommate room?"

Dennis just blinked at her, shifting slightly, "How did you get in here."

Casey's mouth popped open at the question, "Well, I, Barry said-"

The other brother thankfully chose that moment to reappear and Casey breathed a sigh of relief when Dennis's sharp gaze was turned on someone else.

"I thought you had class."

Barry shrugged easily, coming to stand beside Casey in a bit of casual support, "didn't go."

Casey frowned, wondering if that's where Barry had been going when she had smacked into him. Guilt flashed that she had interrupted his schedule, but Barry didn't give her time to apologize.

"I already showed her the place. She's still interested if you want to interview her."

Those dark eyes were turned back on her, and Casey told herself just to breath. "Give me a minute," was his only clipped response, then Dennis walked away.

Casey let out a breath, and heard Barry's snort behind her. "Told ya he was stern." Barry's warning wasn't entirely fair. Dennis wasn't just stern, he was intense. "But he's a good guy, you know, underneath. and really, Casey, he keeps to himself. You'll hardly have to deal with him if you decide to take the room."

Dennis had reappeared, stepping into view behind Barry, and Casey started, wondering if he had heard Barry's comment. He didn't react if he had, his entire expression held a hard disinterest that was disconcerting.

He held a folder, one he placed on the counter, opened, as he drew a pen from his pocket with his left hand. It clicked open, and then he faced Casey.

"What's your name?"

Casey swallowed, shoulders shifting as she told herself to stay even.

"Casey Williams." Pen scratches were his response as his gaze focused on the paper he wrote on. So far so good.

"How old are you Casey?"

Casey kept her tone casual, "Nineteen."

His gaze came up then, fixing her with a look of edged doubt, and seventeen-year-old Casey Cooke swallowed. This may be a bit more difficult than she thought.