Chapter Text
Fourteen year old Matt Willis gazed up at his new home, a rundown white townhouse, virtually indistinguishable from the neighboring houses encroaching on the property. A small potted plant on the front porch was the only bit of green in sight. The fading evening light only served to add to the gloomy atmosphere. For a boy used to wide open spaces, it seemed more like a prison than a home. He supposed he should be grateful to his aunt for agreeing to take him in, but right now it was hard to be grateful for anything.
Nervously, he approached the door and rang the bell.
As he waited for a reply, he stole a few more glances around the neighborhood, unable to shake the feeling that he was being watched. The kids down the street were focused enough on their games, but Matt was certain that they were sneaking glances at him. And the neighbor’s curtains seemed to be shifting, as if someone had hurriedly moved away from them.
He was jolted out of this train of thought as the door in front of him swung open.
Aunt Jeannine looked down at him appraisingly. She was a tall, imposing woman. Matt had never seen her smile.
“Is that all you brought?” she asked, gesturing to the suitcase by his side.
“The Fords are sending the rest of my stuff,” Matt told her. “I couldn’t take it all on the bus.”
She nodded.
“Right then. I have everything set up for you in the guest bedroom.” She paused. “Well, I suppose it’s your bedroom now.”
She stepped out of the doorway.
“Why don’t you bring your stuff upstairs? First door on the right.”
Matt nodded, relieved for he excuse to escape her presence.
“Thanks, Aunt Jeannine.”
Matt crossed the room to the staircase, dragging the rolling suitcase behind him. For a moment, he contemplated attempting to roll it up the steps. Then, with a sigh of resignation, he collapsed the handle and lifted the suitcase by the handle on the side.
“Do you want something to drink?” Aunt Jeannine called. “I’m making casserole for dinner. It should be done in half an hour.”
“I’m not really hungry,” Matt replied.
He finally got the unwieldy suitcase up the stairs and let himself into the room Aunt Jeannine had specified.
It was sparse, and smaller than his old room. But there was a dresser, and a desk, and the bed had clean sheets on it. Matt dropped his suitcase in the middle of the room, kicked off his shoes, and flung himself dramatically onto the bed, wincing slightly. He’d almost forgotten about the cracked rib. The sheets smelled vaguely of lavender. It wasn’t unpleasant, he supposed, but it was just another reminder of how much things had changed.
A week ago, his life had been something close to perfect. He’d lived in a quiet life in a small town. Dad owned a small restaurant, and Mom was an elementary school teacher. He should have known it was too good to last.
He fingered the bandage above his right eye. He’d been lucky to escape the car crash with little more than a few cuts and bruises. His parents hadn’t been so lucky. Dad had died instantly, and Mom had had only lasted a few hours in the hospital. He supposed it was theoretically some sort of consolation that the guy who hit them also died in the crash. It had been his fault, driving drunk. But honestly? Matt just thought about how the kid’s family must feel. He’d been only nineteen. He’d had a girlfriend. Wouldn’t it have been better for everyone if no one had died?
But Matt knew the world didn’t operate on rules of fairness. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. He heard Aunt Jeannine announcing that the casserole was done, but he couldn’t find it in him to move. When she looked in on him, he pretended to be asleep. Before long, feigned sleep gave way to genuine sleep and fitful dreams.
It was a very long night.
-
Matt woke to the tantalizing smell of frying bacon. For a second, he smiled, before the unfamiliar scents and sounds reminded him that things had changed. He opened his eyes, staring blankly at the white ceiling. He didn’t have a clock in the room yet, but the light slanting in through the window told him it was at least midmorning. He rolled out of bed, lamenting the fact that he’d fallen asleep in yesterday’s jeans. As he made his way towards the door, his progress was halted by a sudden observation.
There was a note taped to the window from the outside, written in red marker. That definitely hadn’t been there last night. Slowly, he approached, almost afraid it might disappear if he moved too quickly.
“Welcome to the neighborhood, beautiful,” he read. “I’ll be your Romeo, if you’ll be my Juliet.”
How had it even gotten there? Matt glanced out the window, and noticed that there was a small section of roof under his window almost touched the porch roof of the house behind it. It wouldn’t be too hard to climb out the window onto that roof, step over to his roof, and tape a note to his window.
Matt opened the window and ripped the paper down. He almost crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash, but a better idea struck him. He rifled through the desk drawers and was pleased to see that there was still an assortment of odds and ends in the drawers. He found a pen and wrote, on the opposite side of the paper, “I’m a guy.” After a moment of thought, he added, “P.S. Your pick-up lines suck.”
With something approaching a smile, he taped it back to the window, on the inside this time.
Then, he hurried downstairs.
-
Aunt Jeannine had a plate prepared for him when he got to the kitchen. Bacon, two waffles, and scrambled eggs.
“Good morning,” she said. “I remember you liked waffles. I hope you still do.”
Matt nodded and started shoveling food into his mouth.
Her cooking tasted like Dad’s. Not surprising, really. They had both learned from his grandmother, who had been a legendary cook, or so Matt had always heard. The almost familiar taste was as painful as it was comforting.
“So, what do people do around here?” Matt asked, trying to start a conversation. “I guess that exploring the woods isn’t really an option.”
“I wouldn’t really know too much about what teenage boys do,” Aunt Jeannine said. “Most of the kids around here are pretty young. Danny’s probably the closest to your age, if I recall. School starts next month. I’m sure you can meet people there. I’m fine with you bringing friends over, as long as no one’s too rowdy, and no one stays past eleven.”
That… didn’t really answer his question, but at least she seemed to be trying. Matt had worried it would be like last time she’d had to babysit him, when they hadn’t said more than three words to each other the entire weekend. He could live with this.
-
After breakfast, Matt headed back upstairs. He unpacked his suitcase, putting his clothes in the closet and the dresser and stacking the books by his bed. He was arranging pictures on the desk when there was a knock at the window. He jumped, almost knocking over one of the picture frames.
The boy outside the window had dark hair and a sheepish smile and looked a little bit younger than Matt. So this was the bold Romeo.
After a moment’s hesitation, Matt went over and opened the window.
“But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks?” he teased.
Romeo ducked his head with a nervous laugh.
“Yeah, um, sorry about that. Last time I’m ever trusting my little brother. He swore to me that there was a beautiful girl moving in.”
“I suppose I could be mistaken for a girl from a distance,” Matt said.
“Nah, my brother’s just an ass.”
Matt laughed.
“Can I come in?” Romeo asked.
Well, Aunt Jeannine had said he could have people over. Although she probably hadn’t been thinking of letting near-strangers in through his window.
“Why not?” he agreed, stepping to the side so Romeo could clamber in.
Speaking of which…
“What’s your name?” Matt asked. “I can’t keep calling you Romeo in my head.”
The boy nearly collapsed laughing.
“Just for that, I’m not going to tell you. You’ll just have to figure it out on your own.”
Matt rolled his eyes.
“How old are you? Five?”
“Thirteen, if you must know,” Romeo said. “Do you usually invite strange boys into your bedroom?”
Matt rolled his eyes.
“Please stop hitting on me. It’s really weird.”
“If you insist,” Romeo agreed.
He looked around the room.
“These your folks?” he asked, gesturing to the photos on the desk.
The look on Matt’s face must have spoken volumes.
“Sorry,” Romeo said. “Didn’t mean to dredge up bad memories.”
“It’s okay,” Matt told him. “You didn’t know. So, um, I have cards, if you want to play something?”
Romeo smiled.
“That would be great.”