A/N: We're starting to get into some friendly stuff. Not too much, but this isn't going to be a very long fic, I don't think. Unless you guys want more, then I think I can try and stretch it out a bit more. But other than that, I'll be sticking to at the very most 20 chapters. At the least, 15. I'm shooting for 20, but I'm not so sure. Anyway, Enjoy!

PLAY.

"Oh really?" I was starting to realize my mistake as her eyes twinkled with the happiness of a sugar rushed child. "That's wonderful. What's his name?"

I shrugged. I almost didn't tell her. Telling her would mean conversing about this kid I didn't even know and then breaking her heart as I told her I didn't even know him. But that didn't stop my body from sighing out his name. "Henry."

She nodded and continued to stir the stew, smiling even bigger. "Henry, hm? He sounds like a very nice boy. You should invite him over for dinner."

"Um, nah. I don't think he'd have the time." I shrugged. "He's probably busy with…science projects or something."

In a way, it might be true. I mostly didn't want to tell her that I didn't want to bring a strange kid into our house. Not just because I'd be embarrassed but because he might be uncomfortable with it all. And I don't think it'd be just our house which wasn't really dirty as much as it was…cluttery. My mother collected things; glass, papers, bowls, decorations. Most of the time, it was littered everywhere. Our dinning room table was cluttered with depression glass and many papers. I would clean it if I knew where everything went.

The other thing he'd be uncomfortable about is the way we eat dinner. Which, sadly, wasn't together. As I've said, our dinning room table is cluttered with many things. So, we haven't eaten dinner together in a proper setting. If we ever did, it was in the living room in front of the tv where my father would choose what he wanted. He always thought that whatever he wanted, the family wanted, even though we've told him thousands of times we don't like his shows. Mostly, we eat in our bedrooms or in front of computers or wherever we liked. For a kid like Henry, though I don't know him, this wouldn't be his sort of dinning style.

My mom nodded, hair strands falling out of her bun. "Alright then." Her smile faltered. "Why don't you sit with him at lunch? It would give time for you two to get to know each other. Or do you already sit together?"

"No, mom." I chuckled. Food always leads to friendship with her. "He sits with his little study group and I wouldn't give up my spot for anything." My spot was the outside hallway that overlooks the picnic tables that are usually full by the time I get my lunch.

Mom shrugged and sighed, trying to keep up her smile as best she could. "Try to make friends with him? Please?" She placed the spoon down beside the pot and walked over, holding my hands. "This could be really good for you. And…and what if he's the 'one'? Just try to make friends with him. For me?"

I sighed. Now I started regretting telling her anything about me let alone what I do at school. Every time I brought up a boy bullying me at school or someone being nice to me at camp, she would always pull up the 'destiny' card and claim that they were my other half. Stuff like that is still hard for me to swallow.

"Alright…I'll talk to him." That's all she was getting. No more.

Later on that night, as I was pushing the chunks of beef around in my bowl of stew and chewing on a freshly made biscuit, I seriously began to wonder what I'd say to that hiccup with glasses. The chance of us having the same interests were about the same chances of me standing up to my loud mouth father. Maybe all I'd say is 'hi' or 'hey'; something small so that I could tell my mother that I did talk to him even if it was just a greeting.

I stuffed the rest of the biscuit in my mouth and slurped up some of the stew's broth. Honestly, I loved broth more than I liked the bits and pieces that came with it. Whenever I would have a certain kind of soup or stew, I would use my teeth or spoon as a filter, drinking it almost straight from the bowl. Unless, of course, it was tomato soup. The only time I'd ever eat that is if I had grilled cheese to dunk into it. Otherwise, I didn't like it and I wouldn't eat it. Unless of course it was the only thing we had left in the house I could tolerate.

Tilting my head back and drinking the rest of the stew's broth, I hear my little sister playing and giggling in the next room. Our rooms; Emma's, mine, and my parents' are all in a line on the second floor. The walls separating each room were newly built and are relatively thin, making it easy to hear my sister singing on one side of the house and my father screaming on the other. I smile as I place my bowl down, listening to her talking and giggling more than likely to her dolls. Her voice penetrated the wall separating our rooms, but it was still hard to make out exactly what she was saying unless I pressed my ear to the pale blue wall and listened carefully. By the sounds of it, the Hulk and Barbie are having a tea party while Mario is trying to steal the sugar cubes.

I go down to the floor and press my forehead to the wall near where I think she is closest and knock softly. She's silent for a moment before she whispers something to one of her dolls, walking over and knocking on the wall with a giggle. With another knock, I chuckle and imagine passing through, not having to leave my room to get to hers. Emma knocks part of a rhythm and I knock the other half, making her laugh. She tries to knock once more but I keep on tapping my knuckles to the wall, chuckling and soon laughing when I hear her laugh out words. At one point, she laughs out my name and tries to knock louder than me. It wasn't long until we were in an intense battle of loudness which soon turned into us throwing things at the wall to see who could be louder. This was a big mistake.

As we were playing and as I looked for things to throw, small things, I didn't even take notice of the lack of screams and rants coming from the other room. I didn't even notice that the sound of video game guns going off had stopped. That was until my father flew open my door, his lip puckered and eyes narrowed, showing the wrinkles on his forehead.

"Did you even hear me? I was telling you to fucking stop for five minutes! I swear to God, it's like talking to a damn wall!" He slammed my door, his rantings following him all the way to his room. "That's all it is in this house is talking to walls! Not a single person ever fucking listens to me! It's useless! I'm wasting my breath, I swear to God!"

It continued more and more as he walked into his bedroom and slammed his bedroom door. He went back to playing his game for a moment before my mom went in and asked what was going on. On a usual day, he would scuff so loud I could hear it from outside and say that it was us and then tell her the problem in a loud voice. But today, he decided that everything was the problem and that the only solution is if none of us existed. I felt the need to leave my room and go into Emma's, cradling her and whispering things to show how important she needs to feel, but I also felt that leaving my room would start another screaming session with my dad. And I already felt like it was my fault he was in a bad mood and wanted to curl up in the corner. Instead, I huffed and put my headphones on, laying in my bed and falling asleep.

The next morning, I felt like I didn't get an inch of sleep but I knew I got enough to get me running all day. Curled up into my side was my sister, still fast asleep with a stuffed rabbit in her arms. She must have crawled into my bed during the night while I was still asleep. I stretched and yawned, shaking her shoulder to get her up and moving. Tomorrow is going to be Halloween and our costumes weren't half as done as I hoped they would be. If we get up now, we can still work on them before heading out to school.

With a groan Emma wakes up and stretches her body all over the bed, turning till she is spread out completely on her stomach and sighs, relaxing. I chuckle, already half dressed in my school's uniform; black pants and blazer with a regular white shirt. The tie that I try to do is plaid with both colors, the school's crest laying in the middle so it is always visible. I always hated the lack of colors. My first day at school, I asked one of the teachers why the school colors were black and white. She said it was so that the students wouldn't get distracted and would focus more on work. It didn't work. I was always distracted by the robotness of it all.

My father usually slept in and thankfully, he was still asleep when me and Emma crept downstairs for breakfast. I quickly poured us both bowls of cereal, relaxing a bit as my mother woke up and started her coffee. Our pacing slowed down and we even talked to mom a bit; asking if we needed to be home at a certain time or if we could go certain places after school. It all stopped when our dad walked out with a yawn and a smile. This was one of the many things I hated about him; he could scream whatever he wanted at us and act however he wanted. He could be angry all he wanted and say all he wanted, but we, the rest of the family, were set on untold rules of silence and smiles. Emma smiled and told him 'good morning', her legs swinging as she tried to be that perfect little girl she hoped she could be in his eyes. I had given that up long ago when I realized that I could never be the perfect son to him. I was lucky if I was anything to him.

He sat down with his own coffee and tried to crack a few jokes, sighing and shaking his head when all I did was chuckle slightly. My mother and sister would press their lips together and glance at me before looking back down into their bowls and cups. By then, I was finished with my cereal and quickly put my bowl in the sink. I grabbed my backpack, hugged Emma, waved to my parents, and left as quick as I could.

Across the street, a group of girls laughed and chatted, talking about something that more than likely happened at some football game. The cheerleader from yesterday seemed to walk with a bounce in her step, her pomp-pomps bouncing in her backpack. Looking both ways, I jogged to the other side of the street and walked behind them, staring over at the sun that was just rising. The different oranges and blues, the soft, cool air that brushed against my face and up the sleeves of my blazer were amazing. I turned to look at the houses behind me, to see the light bounce off the windows, but the first thing I noticed when I turned around was Henry, the little Hiccup, walking behind me.

He had peered over his glasses slightly before looking up at the sky. 'Just try to make friends with him. For me?' I heard my mother beg as I watched him fiddle with his blazer buttons. I sighed, stopping in my tracks. A promise is a promise after all, even if you never say the word 'promise'.

Slowly, I walked backwards till we were shoulder to shoulder. Well…more like my shoulder to his temple and I glanced down at him. "Morning." I said, taking a deep breath and letting it out.

"Good morning." He said, sounding more like he was letting out a breath he was holding. "I'm surprised you come to school this early. Or at all." Maybe after what happened yesterday, he realized that he doesn't have to be a stiff, cowering board.

I chuckled. "I have my reasons for coming to school on time. Or even early. Or at all. I'm not someone you need to be worrying about. Don't you have, like, all AP classes?" Advanced Placement classes. Basically College credit classes. It was kind of written on his face that he had a few.

"I have my reasons for having all AP classes." Henry rolled his eyes, throwing my line right in my face.

"That's my line!" With a complete turn, I walked backwards, shoving my hands in my pockets as I looked down at him. "You aren't allowed to steal my things, you know."

He lowered his head to try and hide the chuckle he made, sniffling as he turned to look over at the sunrise. It was strange. Having someone to walk to school with, I mean. Sometimes I would walk with Emma and I'd drop her off at school, but that's different than having someone else walk with you. But it's also a sort of relief. Like when you get a brand new shirt or brand new shoes. It's a good, strange feeling that courses throughout your body.

I smiled as I stared at the sun rising through Henry's glasses. The clouds moved slowly and the colors became more intense. I didn't notice anything else until he looked down at his hand, pulling out a wallet from his pocket. He leafed through it, pulling out a five and a few ones before stuffing it back into his pants pocket.

When he placed the money in his blazer pocket, I raised an eyebrow. "What's that all about?"

"Coffee. I'm getting some coffee at the corner store. Do you want anything?"

I stopped in my tracks. I blinked a few times. Did I even hear that right? "Wh-what?" I whispered.

"Do you want something? Like, a coffee, some breakfast, a-"

"Hot chocolate? Can I have hot chocolate?"

He chuckled and nodded, hiding his face once more by looking down. "One hot chocolate. I think I can handle that."

A/N: I don't think you guys understand. Hot chocolate season. - ADAM

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