Thunder rumbled, enough to startle Matthew awake just as he was about to fall asleep. He sniffed and rubbed his eyes, since he was previously crying. He sat up and laid his head in his lap, pulling his hair with his hands rather forcefully. He ignored the sounds of his brother screaming across the hall at whatever game he was playing. It was just a background noise as of now.

See, living with his adoptive parents, Arthur and Francis, it wasn't so bad that Matthew resorted to crying himself to sleep every night, it was just the people outside of the family.

Well, mostly. Alfred often joined in with the other teenagers when they bullied him. While he's never hurt him physically, Matthew often catches his eyes while he's laying on the ground, crying. He's never seen any remorse or pain in his eyes when watching his brother being beaten into the ground. He laughs instead. He yells threats, calls him names, hurts him, and Matthew can never say anything back. Even after they get home, and Arthur grounds him from whatever, there is nothing in Alfred's eyes for Matthew. Just hatred, and he doesn't know why.

Francis was practically never home, always out with someone else, doing some drug, or drinking, essentially whatever he wanted. Arthur never complained about him, since he did come home eventually and worked. They needed the money, especially for all the reparations they had to make because of the homophobic trash that lived here. At least omce a month, someone would come home to find a broken window, a busted lock on the door (usually nothing gets stolen), and even a dent in the car one time.

Arthur was the one that kept telling him that it will get better one day. He was the one that kept the house in order when they all argued.

But Matthew hears him and Francis fighting in the kitchen all the time, when they think him and Alfred are asleep. He knew Alfred usually isn't asleep either; probably snuck some girl in through the window or doing some kind of drug that Francis smuggled into the house. But he had nothing to do, so he would sneak down the hall and crouch just out of sight and listen. They usually spoke about divorce. Arthur didn't want to divorce because of Matthew and Alfred, but Francis never listened. He didn't care about them. The end of the conversation usually was Arthur saying he loved Francis, and their kids, to which Francis would shove him away and storm into the night.

It always broke Matthew's heart.

While Matthew hated the people here, he didn't want to be put back into foster care. He was already almost eighteen, and Alfred's birthday was just last month, meaning he'd have no one if they gave up their rights now.

Matthew released his hair and reached over to his dresser, which was close enough that he didn't have to get up to reach it. Then he checked his phone. Alfred got the bigger room, obviously.

Who messaged me? Matthew thought. It was almost two in the morning. He opened up his phone and looked at it.

Hey faggot, go get me something to drink.

It was Alfred, obviously. He ignored the slur in the beginning and replied.

Francis said no more stealing from his stash, Al... I don't want to get in trouble.

Just fucking go get me one beer, you pussy. There not going to hear you over me man.

They're**

Matthew smirked, but thought that maybe Alfred would lay off of him at school if he did what he asked. So, he quietly snuck out of his room and down the hallway.

After retrieving the bottle, which loudly clattered around as he ran back to his room, he knocked on Alfred's door and set the bottle down on the floor.

Once he was back in his room, he looked outside at the storm. He watched the rain fall for a minute before hearing his phone vibrate loudly on the dresser. He wished it was Alfred, thanking him or just something, but it wasn't.

Matthew flipped open his phone, and stared at the next message before plopping down onto his bed quietly. It was from Ivan.

He hasn't really figured out Ivan yet. He randomly came up to Matthew one day in a book store and decided that they were friends right then and there, since he didn't have any either. He was a few years older than Matthew, so he would have been in college, but he wanted a break from school for a few years, which Matthew completely understood. They talked for a while in the store before Ivan offered to go to a cafe.

Matthew wasn't so sure about trusting a complete stranger, but something about his voice- and it wasn't the Russian accent, made him feel safe. So he obliged, and they ended up in a small cafe not far from the store. He remembered talking until it was dark enough for Arthur to worry where he was, and wondered how they weren't friends already.

Hey, are you awake?

Yeah...What's up?

I just can't sleep. Why are you awake?

Stress, I guess.

Oh...Do you want to come to my house after school tomorrow?

Matthew looked at the question for a minute. He's never been asked that, as far as he can remember. He didn't expect the first time to be from someone he met a few weeks ago.

Sure. I'll have to ask if it's okay though. I haven't really told my parents about you yet...

Oh? Why not?

I don't know, really. They'd probably make a big deal out of it. It's not every day that I make new friends.

Oh, yeah...I get it. Just let me know tomorrow, okay?

Yeah, I will.

Matthew set his phone back down and removed his glasses. He rolled onto his stomach and laid there, watching the rain trickle down the window before he drifted off into sleep.

Maybe tomorrow will be better.