Thomas' P.O.V

"Hello?"

The woman has dark skin and tightly coiled thick, grey hair. Her face is round, the skin gently creased. She pushes a pair of glasses up her nose, watching me through small, black eyes.

I stand there, my arms dangling at my sides uselessly. My brain isn't working. I can't remember how to talk.

"Hi there." Angelica says.

I feel her pointy elbow dig into my side and see the glare she subtly flashes me. She's cursing me for being so pathetically awkward.

"My name is Angelica Schuyler." She carries on, clearly annoyed that she's having to do all the talking to make up for my sudden lack of eloquence, "I work here."

The small woman smiles brightly, opening the door further to reveal she's wearing a very colourful tie dye shirt and an ankle-length skirt.

"I'm Eleanor Madison." She says, shaking Angelica's hand firmly, "Me and my son moved in last night. A young girl showed us to our room. She was also a Schuyler. Is she your sister?"

Son. Okay.

I add that to my mental list of things I know about the new people.

The woman is called Eleanor. She looks about fifty and she seems very friendly and confident. She has a son. That means I need to use he/him pronouns.

I feel a small bit of relief knowing that at least I won't walk in there and immediately misgender her son.

That's one less worry.

"Yes, Peggy must have been quite the tour guide for you." Angelica smirks.

Mrs Madison laughs, "She was certainly full of life!" She exclaims.

Angelica shoots me another look. I've just been standing in silence the whole time. That must look a bit weird.

"I'm Thomas Jefferson." I say quietly, surprising myself with the sound of my voice, "I don't work here, but I like to visit every day."

It appears that's all my mouth is willing to say, so Angelica continues for me.

"Thomas is like a carer. We consider him as a friend to all. He comes after school each day to check up on all of our guests. What he does works, it really is magic how happy he makes people."

Mrs Madison grins, "Well, that is lovely dear! But do your parents mind you being out so much?"

I zone out for a minute, the world around me flipping upside down. I can hear my heartbeat. I can taste the blood travelling through my body.

My legs wobble underneath me. My eyes roll around in my skull. My body tenses.

I'm aware of Angelica whispering to Mrs Madison.

"His mother left him years ago and his father... well, he isn't the best..."

I see the fear in Mrs Madison's eyes, "I am so sorry!" She says, "I didn't realise! I shouldn't have said anything..."

I use a hand to lean against a wall, breathing deeply until everything goes back to normal.

I hate the sympathy I receive. I'd rather no one know about my family, than live under a constant, patronising shadow.

Just because I have no mum and a rubbish excuse of a dad, doesn't mean people should treat me differently. I'm not an animal in a zoo. One on display for people to poke at and say, "Poor thing. It's so terrible that it had to work in the circus all those years. I hope it's happy now."

I'm not an exhibit. I'm not there for people to feel sorry for me. I just want to live my life, get on with it in my own way.

It annoys me that Mrs Madison already knows far too much about my home life than I'd like. Now, every time I see her, I'll also see that sadness in her eyes. I'll have to deal with the pity forever.

I prefer to just remain a closed book. All the people in this building, and only the Schuylers know the truth about me.

I've managed to keep up the act; that of the teenage boy with the perfect life who is just so selfless that he gives up his time to help others. I've managed to keep people believing that the whole time I've been here.

And I've been happy that way.

I don't want people knowing. I don't want people feeling sorry for me.

Because if these people know about Mum, that means I can't just forget her like I've tried to ever since she disappeared.

It means she's real.

And I don't want her to be real.

Because that will hurt me all over again. I'll start asking myself what I did wrong to make her leave me with him. I'll blame myself and I'll be crushed by the guilt and shame once again.

It's better to forget her. Because if she never existed, the memory of her can't hurt me.

But now she's back.

In Mrs Madison's eyes, I'll see her. Because this short woman knows the truth already, and she'll never be able to look at me like a normal person.

She'll think about Mum, and why she would walk away from her own child.

And now, so will I.

"Would you two like to come in?" Mrs Madison asks, more subdued than she was before, "You can meet my son."

I notice the way she can't quite look me in the eye.

"If you don't mind Eleanor." Angelica smiles.

"Oh, of course not! It'll be nice to have visitors!" She says, back to her enthusiastic self.

Mrs Madison steps back inside the room, me and Angelica following her in.

It's a small place. There's a tiny bookshelf in one corner, stacked with whatever books the shelter provides. A TV sits on top of a drawer that I know from experience is full of DVDs. There's a sofa and a door in the corner, separating the bedroom area from the living space.

It's just the same as any other room here.

The people try their hardest. They try to make the rooms nice for whoever's staying in it. They try to provide them with everything they need to keep entertained. They give them everything they can.

But it's no home.

It's not the same as an actual house to live in.

They have to go to the kitchens and sit at a table with all the other guests when they eat. They have to ask permission of the staff before they leave the premises. They have to rely on other people to keep the shelter open.

Because the people working there don't get paid.

They volunteer.

Only one person gets paid here. And that's the boss. Kevin Rosario.

Everyone else does it out of the goodness of their hearts.

Or in my case, the desperation to stay away from family.

"I have to thank you, Angelica." Mrs Madison says, reaching out and grabbing onto Angelica's hand, "This place is simply wonderful! It's more than we could ever have hoped for."

Angelica squeezes her hand gently, "It's my job to act out. It's horrible how many people are living in dreadful conditions. I just know I have to do something."

Mrs Madison's face falls, "This past year has been so hard on both of us. Our flat wasn't much of a looker, but it was our home. Once we lost that, we were as good as dead."

I notice tears dripping down her face.

She wipes them away quickly.

"And James...he went through something horrific when we were on the streets. It torments me because it's my fault. I shouldn't have left him alone like that. I should have stayed with him..."

She sniffs loudly, hugging herself. I hear the sobs come from her throat, see the way they shake her body.

This woman is broken.

She needs to be put back together again.

"Just...thank you." She chokes out, pulling Angelica into a tight hug, "You've changed my life. You've given my son something to live for."

Angelica smiles sadly, patting Mrs Madison's back, "Don't thank me. It's Mr Rosario who set this place up. He gave you somewhere to stay."

Mrs Madison continues to cry as she holds Angelica against her. I feel oddly uncomfortable seeing the contact. I suppose it's because I've never really had someone to hug me like that.

I watch the two embrace for about a minute, until Mrs Madison's tears stop falling and her chest is moving in a normal rhythm again.

"You can make yourselves at home while I go and wake James." She says, smiling.

She walks into the bedroom, leaving me and Angelica on the sofa.

"I'm sorry for telling her about your family." Angelica whispers to me, "It wasn't my place to say anything."

I look over at her. She looks so uncharacteristically miserable, so un-Angelica. That deep sadness in her eyes, apologetic and self-degrading. I feel the need to do something to comfort her.

"It's okay." I say softly, "She asked, you answered. No harm done. See, I'm fine."

She looks at me with teary eyes, "What did we do to deserve someone like you Thomas?" She laughs through tears.

I feel my heart warm. It's so unusual I get complements like this, especially from Angelica, that I get choked-up every time it happens. My body really isn't used to responding to kind words as much as it is to being ignored, forgotten and bruised.

"The world must have messed up pretty badly to end up with someone like me," I think.

But I just smile, pulling her into an awkward hug.

Mrs Madison reappears to see me and Angelica hugging on her sofa. We pull apart quickly, muttering to ourselves and brushing off our clothes.

Guess she's as self-conscious as me.

"James is just waking up. He'll be with us shortly." She says, looking at me and Angelica, intrigued.

I can't help but wonder if she thinks we're dating.

I don't want her to think that. So, me, being the social-skills expert that I am, blurt out, "I'm gay."

I can literally sense Angelica's facepalm without needing to look at her. I know she's cringing at my social skills; I am too.

Mrs Madison looks confused for a second, before she bursts out laughing.

"That's nice to know." She laughs, "Very random, but still nice to know!"

I can feel heat rising to my cheeks. This woman's laughing at me. This lady, who I hardly know, already thinks I'm ridiculous. She's got me pegged as a fool.

Oh God, she could be homophobic. What if she's waiting until Angelica leaves and then she attacks me? She could be disgusted.

I've made an enemy because I couldn't keep my mouth shut. How pathetic is that?

Sometimes I feel like Angelica knows my thoughts and reads my mind. It's impossible not to believe that in times like this.

"Eleanor doesn't mind." She smiles at me, "Do you Eleanor?"

Mrs Madison looks shocked, "Oh no, no! Of course not! I'm a proud LGBT ally! I always have a mini pride flag in my pocket!"

I laugh, somewhat self-consciously.

Sometimes I'm so grateful for Angelica. Sure, she can be a stroppy bitch at times. But when she's not, she's going out of her way to make sure I'm comfortable. Like she did just now; sensing my discomfort and making sure to say something to help. She's like the older sister I never had.

Mrs Madison runs over to where there's a coat hanging on a peg, sticks her hand in the pocket and returns with two mini pride flags; gay and transgender.

"My best friend at school was a trans girl. I wanted her to know I supported her, so I bought the flag and waved it around when we went to pride parades together." She smiles wistfully.

Angelica reaches into her handbag and brings out a selection of little badges.

"We must have read each other's minds." She tells Mrs Madison.

I watch her pin one badge onto her clothes. It's made of green, white, grey and black stripes.

"I myself am aromantic." Angelica says, proudly showing off her badge.

"Ooh that's so cool." Mrs Madison gushes, leaning forward to examine the rest of the badges in Angelica's hand.

"You have an ally badge!" She exclaims, "May I?"

"Of course." Angelica smiles.

Mrs Madison takes the badge and pins it to her shirt. She looks down at it and grins.

"What about you Thomas?" Angelica asks, "Want a badge?"

She holds them out like they're free sweets in some weird pick-and-mix. I don't want to admit it, but I really want one. I just feel like it's wrong to take one. I know it's stupid, because she's literally offering them to me, but I'd still feel guilty accepting one.

"Um, no I'm...I'm good, thanks." I say.

Angelica frowns, "I know you want one. Just take it. That's what I bought them for; to give to people."

I shake my head again and she glares at me.

She selects the rainbow-coloured one and prises open my hand, which has formed a fist without me intending for it to. She drops it in my palm, smirking slightly.

"You know you can't resist the gay." She says, "It calls to you."

There's a lump in my throat that I force myself to swallow. There's a tremor in my hands that I fight to keep steady. There's a throbbing in my chest that I attempt to calm.

I drop the badge in my pocket instead, trying to ignore the disappointment in Angelica's eyes that she tries and fails to hide.

I don't need to see that I'm failing people.

"Before James arrives, I'd like to tell you something." Mrs Madison says softly.

Me and Angelica both look at her, waiting.

"He may not talk to you. You see...James...well, he's a survivor of sexual assault." She chokes on a repressed tear, "When we were on the street, this...this woman found him and-"

She cuts herself off with a sob.

Angelica holds her hand, "That must've been awful for you. I am so sorry. We will be gentle with him. If he doesn't want to talk, he doesn't have to."

Mrs Madison smiles at her, "Thank you."

I hate hearing the stories of the people who stay at the shelter. Each one is worse than the one before it. Every time someone tells me that they're mother killed someone and left the child alone, or the parents ran away to live at sea, I lose a little more of my belief in the good of humanity.

Because when you know that a teenager was raped on the street, you find it hard to convince yourself that not all people are bad.

And when you see the agonising guilt in the mother's eyes, you feel a little more of your heart shatter.

And I desperately want to help these people, and everyone in situations like this, but I just don't know how.

I don't know what to do.

Music suddenly blares out;

Who do you think you are barging in on me and my guitar? Little girl hey, the door is that way. You better go, you know the fire's out anyway. Take your powder, take your candle. Your sweet whisper, I just can't handle. Well, take your hair in the moonlight. Your brown eyes. Goodbye, goodnight.

"That's mine!" Angelica says, grabbing her phone and answering.

"Hey Liz. What's up?" She pauses for a second, "You what? Okay, I'm on my way. Don't worry, I won't tell Mr Rosario. I'm in 1776. Yeah, I'll be there in 5. Okay, bye."

"What was that?" Mrs Madison asks.

Angelica pinches the bridge of her nose, "It turns out that my sister doesn't know how to make a coffee machine stop pouring coffee."

I picture Eliza panicking, as coffee pours everywhere. That would be pretty frightening.

Angelica stands and says, "I need to go help her."

Mrs Madison follows her to the door, waving goodbye down the corridor.

She then turns and walks back to sit next to me.

"So, Thomas." She smiles at me, "How old are you?"

I know it's just polite conversation, but I'm not used to people asking me any personal questions. It feels so weird having someone seem genuinely interested in talking to me. But then again, she's probably just doing it to fill the silence until her son joins us.

She doesn't really care about me.

Why should she?

"I'm fifteen." I say.

She laughs, "You're the same age as James!"

I smile awkwardly.

"There's one more thing I want to tell you before James joins us." She says, "He might seem really tired. You see, James has a very weak immune system. He's on constant medication to strengthen it, but as a result, it makes him tired all the time. When he was little there was an incident. He caught a cold off one of the kids at school. What should have disappeared in a week went on for months, making him extremely ill. It was then the doctors told us he had an immune deficiency and that small, usually harmless illnesses could be fatal. And now, he has to spend half of his life sleeping."

"I'm so sorry Mrs Madison," I say quietly, "That must be awful."

"It's just life." She says softly, before breaking into a smile, "But please, call me Eleanor."

I nod and let the silence fill my body. Silence is something I hate. It never fails to make me uncomfortable, always seems to make my skin crawl and the back of my neck prickle. But I've never understood why.

After all, my house is full of silence. It's big enough for my dad to avoid me, and even if we're in the same room he wouldn't talk to me. I've spent my whole life living in a silent mansion. I should be used to it by now.

That's what you'd imagine.

But truths often don't make sense.

The door creaks quietly. Both me and Eleanor turn our heads to the sound.

Peering around it is a boy. He's very short, like Eleanor and has dark brown skin. His hair is short and fluffy. His eyes are black. Completely black. And they're wide and filled with obvious fear and something else I can't quite place.

"James." Eleanor smiles, beckoning him in, "This is Thomas. He's come to visit us."

James doesn't smile back. His lips stay set firmly in a straight line and his eyes barely even flick up to acknowledge me. It's clear he isn't the kind of person who wants to chat with anybody and everybody, unlike his mum.

However he does walk over and sit in the armchair in the corner of the room. And that's when he focuses on me. His eyes glue to me, not moving at all. It's like he's watching me so he gets time to run if I pounce on him. He reminds me of a rabbit. That primal instinct to be wary of anything larger than yourself.

I can feel the eagerness radiating off Eleanor. I can tell how desperate she is for her son to talk to me, to talk to someone, anyone. But I can see it won't work. Anxiety is stubborn like that. It doesn't let you do the things you so strongly wish you could. It makes sure you don't enjoy anything because you're too busy worrying about everything.

I know I can't be annoyed with James. After what Eleanor told me he went through; he must suffer from PTSD. I know if it'd been me, I wouldn't be willing to open up to some random kid.

I know Eleanor feels the same. She's hopeful for him to find some happiness with me, but she's not blaming him.

Of course she isn't. Because she's been with him for the longest. So, out of all people she will know best how hard it's been for him.

I wonder if he's like me; not wanting sympathy. Or if he's how everyone assumes people who've been through terrible things are; desperate for sympathy.

"You know what? I'm going to help Angelica out with her sister." Eleanor says, "Why don't you two stay here and chat?"

I wonder if she really is such a kind person that she does want to help, or if it's purely to give James some privacy to see if it makes him more comfortable talking to me. Either way, it proves that she is a good woman and I really admire her.

James looks at his mother, a hint of desperation appearing in those otherwise empty eyes, as he shakes his head at her.

A small frown plays on her lips, almost as if she's disappointed in herself for not offering the right answer. But she pushes it away quickly, replacing it with the trademark toothy grin.

"I promise that I won't leave the building." She whispers, leaning down to hug him, "The people here are nice. Thomas will protect you."

I don't think the words do much to relax him, but he doesn't say otherwise.

Eleanor pulls away and walks out the door, smiling but with worry behind those warm eyes.

Again with the silence. It returns to the room, deafening me. It seems to pour into my throat, slowly choking words out of me. I can feel it crawling and slithering across my body like some evil serpent. Its venom is the pounding noise in my skull, the shaking in my hands, the darting of my eyes.

I don't know if James feels it too, or if he's used to it. Because after all, he is the cause of this silence. As a creator, maybe it is what makes him feel safe.

Where it sends my nerves haywire, it manages to calm his racing mind.

Perhaps he doesn't want me to say anything, and ruin the beautiful silent palace he has built for himself.

I look over at him. I can almost see the invisible bubble around him; the one that keeps him secure in a world of quiet, away from the stress and noise of my world. I see lips that he hasn't needed to use in so long and eyes that have forgotten how to smile. I see ears that need reminding what a human voice sounds like and skin that cries out to be told what it is to be touched.

And I realise that he's just like me.

We are both alone.

We have both trapped ourselves in our own isolated worlds; mine a social prison, his a mental one.

And until we find the keys, we'll be imprisoned.

Something settles in my mind. James may relish the silence, but I don't. And I'm not just going to sit here after Eleanor went out of her way to give us this time alone.

"So," I say, watching James' entire body jolt as his precious silence is shattered.

He looks at me with wide eyes, one of his arms squeezing the other tightly. Yet his mouth still does nothing. Not a frown, not a smile, not a sound.

I push away everything else and make a decision right here, right now. If James won't talk, he'll listen.

I make myself smile at him, "Hi." I say.

He just blinks.

I swallow hard and remind myself that I'm doing this for Eleanor, if not for anyone else. I have to do this. I saw the hope shimmering in her eyes when she left the room. She wants something better for her son. She needs this.

I decide to just let it all pour out.

"You don't have to talk to me." I say, "Just let me talk to you."

I slowly look up to his face. It seems to have softened slightly, though I could just be seeing what I want to.

In those dark eyes I can almost hear a voice, urging me on, saying, "Go on Thomas. I want to hear about you."

"Here's some things to help you get to know me." I say suddenly, "I'm fifteen. I live alone with my dad. I have no siblings. When I was little, I used to beg my mum to take me to ballet classes, but my dad never agreed. Once, we were so close to buying a puppy we found in a rescue shelter, but my dad said it'd be too much work. When I was about five, I fell over ice skating and someone skated over my hand, slicing my skin. I spent the night in hospital and cried the whole time, until the ladies there read a book to me. I once sat on a bus for an hour, waiting for my stop. It turned out I'd gone past it about forty five minutes before. I used to dream of opening my own charity."

I've just spilled so many random, useless facts. But they're things I've never told anyone. Because I've never had a friend before to tell about the time I climbed into the penguin enclosure in a zoo and had to be pulled out by a zookeeper.

I've already been more honest with this boy than with anyone else in my life.

But there are so many things I haven't told him.

The fact that dad is abusive. The fact that I get locked up in my room whenever someone comes to the house. The fact that my mum was forced to walk out on us by my father. The fact that I've never had a friend. The fact that I have social anxiety.

The fact that last year, I went through such a rough period. I would sit in my room every night and slit my wrists, sobbing as the blood ran down my arms. I starved myself, obsessively checking my weight as soon as I ate anything. I wanted nothing more than to curl up on those scales, close my eyes forever and just fade away.

"Sorry." I say, "That was weird."

James looks at me intensely. I notice how long his eyelashes are.

And the door opens. Eleanor walks in. And she smiles at us.

I glance down at my watch. Crap. I need to get home before dad remembers that he has a son, and that son isn't in the house.

"I need to go." I say to no one in particular.

Eleanor smiles at me, "You'll come back tomorrow?"

It's more of a statement than a question. She's telling me to come back.

I nod.

And as I stand, the weirdest thing happens.

I feel a hand on my wrist. I look down and see James rising too. He clasps my hand in his.

And he smiles at me.

He sits down after, his face blank again. Like nothing ever happened.

As I leave the room, I can feel my heart glowing. I got through to him. The boy who wouldn't talk smiled at me.

I did it.

I wave to Eliza when I walk out the front door, a huge smile slapped across my face. Because it all makes sense now.

I see that James is the key to release me from the cage I've locked myself in. And I am the key to his.