CHAPTER ONE: MOVING DAY

Today was the day. Today was the day some kid would show up in our house. My dad had volunteered our family for this foster care-like program. It takes in kids that have really messed up backgrounds and gives them a place to live for a while. My mom only agreed to it because of the rather hefty 'thank you' sum the company gives for volunteering. My dad on the other hand, is constantly doing things like this to help out 'those in need.' How he ever ended up with my mom was a mystery, though they say she was a different person when she was younger. He's always in and out of the house on business meetings, though- including today.

My mom and I sat waiting in the living room with a plate of cinnamon cookies my mom had baked to seem 'welcoming.' After about twenty minutes of playing on my phone, there was a knock on the door. A bright and overly chipper worker in a stiff red suit greeted us, smile plastered to her face.

"Well, this is he!" She enthused, turning to my mother, "Your husband should have most of his paperwork, but these are the legal..." I zoned out as she started speaking in technicalities.

My mother waved for me to get him out of here while the adults talked "grown-up." I reached out to take his wrist and lead him up to his room, but when he shrunk back and flinched slightly, opted instead to simply request he follow me. He seemed dazed as I led him down a few hallways into his new room.

"Well, this is all yours. Make yourself at home. I'm Axel by the way." I said, setting his things down next to the light blue comforter. He just nodded, eyes glazed over in thought, and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Soo..." I began, trying to make conversation, "What do you think of your new place?" My question was met with silence as he just stared blankly at his shoes. I took a moment to study him. He was shorter than me, thin, and maybe about three years younger. He had scruffy, dirty blonde hair that swept to one side, the brightest blue eyes I had ever seen, and his jaw was clenched as if he were expecting the world to shatter into a million pieces at any moment. All he seemed to own was the Foster's pack I set down next to his bed and the clothes on his back. I wondered if he came from somewhere up north, as almost every inch of him was covered in thick, slightly-too-large clothing.

After a good while of silence, I heard a tiny noise come from the boy. A faint whistle interrupted my thoughts. I looked up only to find him in the same position he was in earlier, only hunched over. He had fallen asleep while sitting up. I chuckled to myself at how strange a sight this seemed- this super tense kid, completely relaxed and double over snoring. He actually looked kind of cute and innocent. Out of instinct, I took off my forest green hoodie that matched my eyes and laid it over him, afraid if I laid him down it would wake him up. Afterwards, I quietly excused myself from the room, muttering a quick "Goodnight" with a smirk.

As I got back to my room, I realized how late it had gotten, and how very tired I was from all of this foreign commotion. As I drifted off into sleep, I couldn't help but wonder what this kid's deal was. I didn't even know his name- he hadn't said a word to me yet. My dad still had all of his background documentation with him on his trip, and hadn't bothered to brief us. For all my mom and I know, this guy could be a psycho druggie. Still, something pulled at my mind saying that wasn't the case. He was still on my mind as I finally fell asleep.

Wraiths. There were wraiths in the house. That was my first though when I woke up in the middle of the night with a jolt. It took my brain a moment to process that wraiths in the house wasn't actually a logical answer to the shrill noise pounding on my eardrums. Still, though, it sounded like screaming... Screaming! My mind flew to the new kid as I ran into his room with a bat, expecting some gastly night intruder.

I pulled the door open to find the room empty, save for a thrashing blonde kid rolling around in terror under the sheets. I stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do, before I quietly crossed the floor and shook him awake. His eyes fluttered open, dazed and terrified, taking a while to focus.

"...Axel?" A hoarse, raw voice whispered. I was surprised he even remembered my name. What with his silence earlier, I had gotten the impression he didn't like me. I took a good look at him.

"You're soaking wet. How could you possibly sweat that much over a dream?" I nervously joked. A frown touched his face, and I found myself regretting speaking before thinking. "Uh, why don't you take a shower? I'll wash your clothes while you're in there." I offered. I helped him up and to the bathroom. "Just hand me your clothes once you're undressed." After showing him where all the soaps were, I stood outside and waited for a couple of minutes. When I could hear the shower screeching for a solid ten minutes I got impatient and decided to simply walk in and pick up the clothes. Long-sleeved T-shirt, Pants, socks... (No wonder he was so hot, wearing so much in the middle of the summer.) I scoured the floor for his boxers, but couldn't find them anywhere. Where were they? A quick glance at the clouded glass shower door gave me the answer. "Dude.. Are you wearing underwear in the shower?" I asked. A long silence followed, and I wasn't sure if he was even going to answer.

After what seemed like twenty minutes, he called out, "I'm not... comfortable.. if I don't have them on." He had to be joking.

"That's ridiculous! Come on, take them off, I've got to put them in the wash. Don't make me take them off you myself!" I teased. I could see him tense up, before he curled into a ball in the corner.

"Please..." he pleaded. He was actually serious.

"Fine," I sighed, running a hand through my hair, "Have it your way." I marched back into my room, grabbed a pair of boxers, and marched right back out. "Here." I stated, throwing them over the door. "Now can I please have your dirty ones? I'm trying to do you a favor here." After a bit of shuffling while I stared at the wall, he hung a pair of red and black plaid sopping wet boxers over the door. "Thank you." I huffed, picking up the rest of the clothes once more.

I sat in my room, waiting for the dryer to beep. I couldn't stop thinking about him. What had unnerved me the most was what I could see through the cloudy door. Either he had some really weird tan lines, or he was covered- absolutely covered, in white scars of all shapes and sizes. Thinking back, I guess his clothing choice made sense, then.

I heard the shower stream cut off, and walked back to the bathroom in the hall with a couple of my clothes. It feels like I should care more that this kid is using my house, my room, my clothes.. but something about him made me easily overlook these facts. I knocked on the door, opened it a crack, and gave him the clean clothes. "Yours aren't dry yet, so.." I trailed off, "Here. You can borrow mine." He came out in the black t-shirt and sweatpants, looking rather uncomfortable, hiding his arms.

I was right, they were definitely scars. They ran up and down his arms, criss-crossing in some places. Some were jagged, some were puffy, and some were thin and pearly. I could definitely tell these weren't self-inflicted. Worry overtook me, and without even thinking I was trailing them up to his sleeve with my fingertips. I glanced up to look him questioningly in the eyes, but he just turned his head to the side and looked away.

I gently pulled his shirt up to see how far they led up to, only to find an even more horrific sight. Cigarette burns spotted his chest and lower stomach, with many more small scars across his torso. Some even looked fresh. The worst was a long, jagged, diagonal scar running from his right shoulder to his left hip bone. I traced it with my thumb, with a sharp intake of breath. "Who..." was all I could manage. It was then I realized he was quivering and on the verge of tears. I hadn't even realized he had slowly backed up against the wall. I immediately removed my hand and apologized. I coughed and shook my head to clear my thoughts. "Uhm, you must be tired.." I said, and led him back to his room.

"You know, I never did catch your name." I said, trying to lighten the mood. Once again, however, I was met with silence. He seemed to have reverted back to the way he was this morning. I stayed for a moment by his bedside as he crawled under the covers. I shifted my weight, uncomfortable. "Alright, well, if you need anything, I'll be down the hall." I said, as started for the door when a frail hand caught the back of my shirt.

"Axel?" he whispered, with a gentle voice. I froze midstride, straining for what he had to say. "Stay?" I couldn't explain it, but I was drawn to this kid. I lay down on top of the bed next to his curled figure, back facing him. If I could comfort him from the nightmares he was having earlier, this would be a small price to pay. I felt him shift next to me in an attempt to get comfortable. After a while, he stilled and I could hear his breathing even out, but my mind was still racing with the past events of the day. Just when I was finally starting to nod off, I heard one final, whispered phrase, like a quiet wind on a still night.

"Roxas. My name's Roxas."