A/N: I wrote this a long time ago and then deleted it… Then regretted deleting it, so here's my go at a bigger and better version of the original!
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L's cheek pressed flush against the cold of the car's window. His eyes were dim and glassy as he stared ahead, each breath he took fogging the pane before his nose. Slumped against the car door, he was situated so that his back faced the social worker behind the wheel.
"Look," The driver cleared his throat gruffly and pointed ahead.
L did. He twisted his neck ever so slightly, stiff from the cramped huddle he had been in for hours, now. A road sign, announcing that Millstone was not far off. L's heart dipped a bit and then fell completely, hitting the soles of his feet with a crushing thud.
"Excited?" The officer smiled at him. L fixed the man with an utterly stoic expression before flashing him a quick, canned smile. He turned away, then, feeling as if he may be sick on the car floor.
Another town, another house, another family.
He didn't expect to stay here, not for very long.
L drew his knees against his chest and wrapped his arms around them, the fabric of his beaten wind breaker swishing together with the motion. He sighed shallowly and leaned back against the car door, paying a bit more attention to the scenery as it passed by.
Vacant fields, fields with great, round bales of hay, and then trees. A lot of trees. Skeletal trees, trees that reached their starved and bony limbs to a grey sky, trees that were hungry for life and warmth and sun. And then there was a thin and broken layer of snow, coating everything in sight. L blinked owlishly at the world that the windowpane separated him from. The social worker cast the boy a glance and, as if reading his mind, nodded.
"The winter out here isn't too nice. I think it was a bit more mild, down in Rochester." He paused to give L ample opportunity to respond, and then cleared his throat for the second time when the boy didn't. "It's a small town, I know, but I think you'll like it. The air's cleaner out here, and once springs rolls around I'm sure that all of that will really look like something out of a storybook." He gestured to the desolate and icy wasteland out the window.
L ignored him and instead looked farther down the road.
Who said he would stay for spring? The glass of the interface fogged with a quick, outward breath. The last home he'd been in had only kept him for two and a half weeks. The condensation faded from the window as L rasped an inward breath.
"Do you need your inhaler?" The man's voice held undertones of what seemed to be forced concern. L grimaced.
"No." L licked his lips, his voice feeling a bit strained after hours of disuse. He saw the driver open his mouth and felt the need to cut in again.
"You don't need to try and make conversation with me every time we pass a rock, Mr. Fredrick." Mr. Fredrick's mouth snapped shut. L looked down and gazed solemnly at his knees for a moment, then allowed his eyes to flutter shut. It was almost nine at night, and they had begun driving much, much earlier that day.
Mr. Fredrick cleared his throat - again.
"Yes, well, we're almost there." Though L wasn't paying attention to him, he gave a short nod and worked his jaw for a second, readjusting his grip on the steering wheel. "Look right up ahead, if you want."
Despite himself, L opened his eyes and glowered ahead, observing a small crop of buildings rising into view. Small, shabby ones made of brick. They looked ancient, in a cute and homely way.
"Welcome to Millstone. Blink and you'll miss it!" Mr. Fredrick grinned. L supposed that what he had told the man about needless conversation had gone in one ear and out the other. He retained his cramped position between the front glove box and car door, not caring for the town they began to pass through, but not without total indifference.
"Who am I going to, again?" L's expression remained unchanged. He wasn't genuinely curious, but the formalities were always handy to know before arrival. He had learned this.
"You'll be living with Samantha, she's very sweet." Mr. Fredrick nodded profusely and showed a sincere smile. "She doesn't live too far from this town here. There's another boy living with her, too, named Near. If I remember right, he's a year younger than you."
L sank very low into his seat, darkening a bit. Placement into foster homes already fostering other kids never did bode well with him. The discomfort of being thrust into a foster-sibling situation had always been more stressful for him than necessary.
"I want to go back to Rochester," L admonished.
"Why?" Mr. Fredrick actually frowned at this. L frowned, too.
He didn't know, he didn't have a single tie, there. He didn't have a single friend. He didn't want to go back to Rochester.
He but also did not want to come to Millstone.
"No, never mind. I think I'll like it, here." L turned and grinned enthusiastically at the social officer. Mr. Fredrick beamed back, the sudden mood change not registering as suspicious in his narrow mind.
L's smile was forced, and every word dripped syrup too sweet to hold any honesty in even a single syllable.
He wanted to go home, that's where he wanted to go. Where he's been aching to go, for so long now.
"We've practically arrived, now!" Mr. Fredrick sat upright and the car sped up a bit. L melted further into his seat, a feat that had been previously thought to be impossible.
Almost as soon as it had picked up speed, the car slowed and rounded a corner. L jerked a bit and caught his balance on the car door as the vehicle shifted from a paved road to a long, gravel drive that wound into the woods. Darkness had long fallen, but the moon illuminated the land with an intense glow.
L looked away from the drive and surveyed the field to his right. Before the car was overtaken by a towering wood, L glimpsed the expanse of grass that bordered both sides of the lane. The nocturnal sun floodlit the region, revealing a wide, rolling field of tall, yellow grass. Fog hung low over the sward, a white and ominous blanket of suffocation.
L pressed his nose to the window, taking in the foreboding and unwelcoming backdrop.
"What was your latest drop-off, do you think? That you've ever had." Mr. Fredrick maneuvered the vehicle over a ceaselessly jostling stone road. "I think we're running a bit behind but it's not too bad, right?"
"I was once placed in a home after one in the morning," L mumbled. "We had been crossing states, though."
"This isn't bad." The social worker clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth when yellow pinpoints of light began filtering through the silhouettes of the trees. "It's only what, half past nine?"
As if answering his own question, the man glanced down at his watch and nodded. L disengaged himself again and straightened his legs, actually sitting up in his seat to watch the house come into view. He propped an elbow up on the car door and ruffled his hair nervously, narrowing his eyes at the place.
It was dark, so details were lost in the gloom, but from L could see, it stood tall and boasted a lot of windows. The front door was wide and red, though simple, and flanked on either side by two pairs of boots. The steps that lead up to said door were concrete and looked a bit dusty, each step bearing a square of black rubber for grip.
The car rolled to a park, parallel to the establishment. The hot air in the car shuddered off and L dreaded stepping from the warm car and out into the chill of a Minnesota November. He took one more look at the house.
There were porches on either side, painted a dark maroon. The door and the shutters that bordered each window were wide and white, holding a faint glow in the darkness. Bushes bordered each margin of the domicile. His eyes bore into every crack he could make out, every fault in the structure, every shadow that hung just so slightly over every crevice in the siding.
The door moved, and L's gaze shifted to observe the owner of the residence as she exited the house and descended the stairs two at a time, hurrying across the lawn toward their car.
L huffed and quickly sank below the window, knees sliding up to prop against the dashboard. His jacket rode up so that it covered his nose and he rolled his head to peer innocently at Mr. Fredrick, who despondently shook his head at the boy before swinging the driver's door open.
Voices struck up as soon as the social worker left the car, and L listened sickly. He'd have rather endured an eternity in a car with Mr. Fredrick's cheery attitude than have to move to another house and bear another potential rejection. Foster parents never liked him, he'd found.
"Oh, L's in the car, he's a bit carsick." Mr. Fredrick's voice mutedly registered within the confines of the darkened car. L pitched to the side and pushed against the back of his seat, sitting up again to peek out the window.
"Oh, what a shame. I've saved some dinner for him, if it isn't too late. Will I need records, or anything?" The woman sounded young. L frowned at this. He hooked a finger on the door's latch and then tugged, kicking it open and swinging his legs around.
The gravel beneath his feet felt pokey and primal. L sneered at the ground, wishing for pavement and proper civilization. There was a shudder and then a lull in in conversation, and then a hearty chuckle from Mr. Fredrick.
"Samantha, this would be L. L, this is Samantha."
L moved shoved his hands into the pockets of his windbreaker - a routine habit he'd developed over the years to avoid any attempted handshakes or physical greetings. None of which manifested.
Samantha, a surprisingly young-looking woman in a baggy sweater and old jeans, grinned.
"Hi, L. You can call me Sammi, if you want." She had a mirthful voice. It was orotund but warm, and very inviting. L shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
"You can call me L." He replied quietly, albeit breezily.
"Right! So, if you'd be so kind as to allow us admission, I've his records to give you. Normally they'd be filed away for emergencies, but the medical history is extensive and I've been required to go over them with you." Mr. Fredrick steeped his hands beneath his chin, and Sammi nodded.
L observed from where he loitered beside the car, feeling a bit invisible.
"We could discuss that inside, yes," Sammie smiled. "It's really getting to be a bitter night out here; we're expected to get some more snow in a few days. Please," She stepped back and then turned, heading back towards the house. There was a sort of hop in her step.
Mr. Fredrick followed Sammi and L followed Mr. Fredrick up the steps to the front door.
L stared at the ground all the way, watching intently as his beaten converse first trekked the crunchy, dead grass, then the short concrete walkway, then the dusty steps with the rubber mats. He only looked up when the soles of his shoes touched the rug beyond the door's threshold. He blinked his eyes several times to adjust to the light in the foyer.
It was no doubt a beautiful home. In the foyer, there were two closets directly to the right, and a bathroom to the left. L knew it was a bathroom because the door was open and though the lights were out inside the smaller room, he could see a countertop with an array of soap bottles.
The rest of the level was one large, open room. The foyer lead two ways - lead to a kitchen to the right and a grand lounging area to the left. Both separated not by a wall or series of hallways but a large, gaping hole in the floor. A wooden banister bordered the aperture, which upon investigation, revealed a finished basement below. L followed the staircase to a breach in the banister in the lounging area.
All of this was under a tall, white, a-frame ceiling. Thick, wooden support beams were situated horizontally near the top, high above L's head.
L sucked his lip critically. A beautiful home with unique architecture, maybe, but it was not as extravagant as its potential suggested. He imaged the same layout, but with pristine white furniture and posh carpeting. He pictured flowing drapes in the living room and granite countertops in the kitchen. L sniffed disdainfully at the current arrangement: rustic, earthy tones and Persian rugs. He noted the countless shelves, ornamented with antique gadgets and ancient contraptions.
"I hope you like it here!" Sammi cheerily exclaimed, noticing L's observing of his surroundings. She kicked her sneakers off and then set them neatly beneath a bench propped up against the banister facing the foyer. "Near and I've been cleaning all day. Dusting and everything. There wasa ton of dust, and I know that's no good for you. You know?"
L looked over and stared indifferently at his new foster mother. She really was very young, and had long, sandy hair tied back in a loose ponytail. Her eyes were big and ordinarily brown, but they shone with mirth when she was smiling.
"So how about those files?" She stood and placed her hands on her hips, and Mr. Fredrick offered her a small bundle of labeled, manila envelopes. They talked briefly about what she would need to know, but when Mr. Fredrick warned that they would need to discuss things in more detail Sammi frowned and stood a bit straighter.
"Here, let me show L his room, first. Then we can sit down in the kitchen." She looked over at L, who appeared unimpressed at her hospitality. She smiled. "That way you don't have to stand here and listen to a lecture you've probably heard before, am I right?"
"Sure," L sighed through his nose and crossed his arms as Mr. Fredrick passed him and left the house for a moment, returning with L's duffel bag.
He accepted his belongings and then followed Sammi into the living room. He felt a bit heavier when he saw her turn to the gap in the banister and begin descending the stairs.
"My room's down there?" He lamented, steps slowing slightly. He sluggishly touched his left foot to the first step and then his right to the next. Sammi glanced over her shoulder and nodded.
This is depressing, L moaned mentally. He followed at a crawl. He followed her down the entire staircase and then stopped at the bottom, feeling the shaggy, brown carpeting cushion the soles of his shoes. He looked up and saw the ceiling high above, and Mr. Fredrick waving happily from where he leaned over the balustrade. He looked around the basement, now, and watched Sammi approach one of the doors lining the walls. There seemed to be a central room in the basement, without a ceiling, that could be viewed from the floor upstairs.
The doors alongside the walls suggested that there were rooms surrounding all sides of the main area, though. L padded after his new foster mother, bag slung over his shoulder.
"It's the smaller of the two rooms, but the other is a guest common reserved mainly for my parents, when they visit. Is that okay?" Sammi allowed the bedroom door to swing open and then fumbled along the wall, flipping on the light switch.
True to her words, the room wasn't big. The walls were a pale green and a large bed sported a thick comforter of a matching color. There was a desk tucked into a pocket in the wall beside the bed, a framed mirror hanging above it, and where the mattress ended sat a posh little ottoman. L entered the room and dropped his bag on said ottoman, looking around. The carpeting of the stairs and the rest of the basement gave way to smooth, painted concrete, here. He stared down for a moment at the cream colored cement before stepped off of it and onto the thick, green rug that took up a large portion of the room.
He caught sight of himself in another framed mirror that hung parallel to the bed, and almost immediately looked away from the disheveled image there. Sammi lingered in the doorway, perhaps waiting for some sign of approval. L nodded, slowly and silently. She gave a small smile.
"You're probably tired," She sympathized. "Rochester is a long way south from here. There's a bathroom with a shower right next door if you need it, and I'll be upstairs if you want to talk, okay?"
L didn't respond, and Sammi pushed from the doorframe and stepped farther into the room, reaching out to place a gentle hand on L's arm.
"I really do hope you like it, here. I'm looking forward to getting to know you."
She turned without waiting for a response, as if she guessed that L wouldn't give one. L followed her with his eyes as she left the room and then ascended the stairs again.
Alone, L's gaze absently traced the room. He reached up and folded his arms tightly across his chest, backtracking until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed. He sank down and sat silently on the side of the mattress, staring at the wall opposite him. He felt empty. Muffled voices drifted through the open door from the floor above him, proof that the house had other occupants.
L struggled to reassure himself with this, reassure himself that he was not utterly defenseless in a vacant building. He closed his eyes and brought his arms down, slipping from his jacket and letting it fall to the floor. He took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm down, and then coughed.
He'd take a shower and change into his nightclothes. He would lay down and pretend that the bed he inhabited was not the thousandth in his lifetime. He would sleep and, upon awakening, pretend that he had not been plagued with fitful sleep and nostalgic dreams.
He would endure tomorrow and pretend that it may not be only the first day of a very limited amount of time he would spend here before moving on again.
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A/N2: All of Sammi's house and property is based off of a house and property I know of in real life, so if you can't exactly visualize what I tried to convey, you could PM me for some video of the area I took while visiting family there this weekend - though if I were the reader I'd rather be left to my own imagination and interpretation. That just may be the way my mind works, though.
Review, please! It seriously helps me update. Really.