5:Moonlight

Yes Dad...  I wanted to growl at him. I wouldn't talk until he was sleeping. I heard Alistor sigh and he moved around. I thought he might have been getting off to get to sleep, but he pulled out something from his bag. Under the window, with the little moonlight shining in I could see it was a notebook. I watched his hands write  a few lines and looked again at his streak of white hair. It was so strange... He reached the book and pen out to me and I took it. I held it upto the window and read it.
Bad light I know, but not much choice.
What's his problem? He seemed fine earlier...
Mind talking like this?
His handwriting was so delicate. Small, and nice; I bet it put mine to shame. Actually, I knew it did. His handwriting cut mine up with a blunt knife into tiny little pieces, threw it into a microwave covered in tin foil and respectively blew it up with a shotgun bullet or five. Obviously, my handwriting was dodgey. Finch couldn't read or write. Its one thing I had on him, and why he needed me so much. I took longer than him to write my reply but Alistor wasn't watching me. He was looking out the window, at the sky.
This is okay.
Don't worry about him... He's just jealous of you. You had a home. 
He never has.
I'm sorry about your dad... He seems quite horrible.
I handed it back to him and stared into the darkness concentrating on sounds. I could hear the scratching of the pen, and a slight shuffle of paper, but beneath that, Finch's breathing. It was slowing down. He'd be sleeping soon. Alistor handed the book back.
Ah, I understand. It's better this way though.
How long would I be allowed to stay with you two?
Don't worry about it. It's better not to dwell on things.
I thought about it. I didn't really care how long he stayed. Finch might but that wasn't my place to say. I paused and listened to the breathing. It was heavier now. He must've been sleeping. I handed the book back without writing on it and he stared at me wordlessly.
"Finch's sleeping." I whispered. He nodded and climbed up onto the window sill. It was fairly large, and you could easily lay in it. He sat with his back against the wall, and I moved into the middle of the couch, putting my arm over the back of it. "You can stay as long as you like I say."
He glanced at me then back out the window.
"Thanks. You don't understand how much this means to me." He said quietly, smiling sadly to himself. There wasn't much else to look at but the sky. Nobody ever even drove down these streets.
"Why have you got a white streak in your hair?" It looked much more silver now. The boy looked at me. His eyes shone shockingly in this light. They were ringed by light grey which reached out in thin, wispy tendrils towards his pupil. The center of his right eye was a deep ocean blue and his left eye, I noticed for the first time, was completely green. I couldn't look away. His eyes were amazing!
"I've had it for what feels like forever. Apparently it started when I was eleven, and no..." He paused to laugh and looked away into the darkness, showing me the whole left side of his face. "My hair isn't dyed at all."
We sat in silence for a few moments, and was a comfortable silence, not one of awkwardness. He looked at me again though, perplexed and asked a question.
"Why are you on the streets? If you don't mind me asking." I fell silent. He noticed my discomfort and changed the conversation. "Don't worry about it. You don't have to tell me. I think I might get some sleep though. I am kind of tired after all."
"You have a blanket or something?" I asked. He jumped off the window sill and stood up, taking something out of his backpack. A rather big sleeping bag of sorts. He arranged the cushions into a rectangular shape, pushed his bag beside them and unzipped the sleeping bag, laying it over the heap of pillows.
"I'm alright." He murmured, sounding very tired. I nodded, forgetting he most likely couldn't see me. He stood up straight again and his fingers found the edge of his shirt. I don't think he realized I could see him with the moonlight shining on his back.
At least it was his back and not...
In one fluid movement the shirt came off and the blood rushed to my cheeks.  He moved his hands gingerly to his belt and I could hear it click in the silence as he loosened it and pulled it from his jeans. I froze completely, my face on fire, and if any light were on my face right then, I would've been brighter than a fire engine. Hell I could even hear him move the zipper down slowly. I bit my lip and laid down on my back, staring at the black  abyss that was the ceiling. I shut my eyes as tightly as I could, and tried not to breath else he might have noticed a jump in my breathing. I heard the material move down his legs and listened as he folded them up and put them in his bag before getting into bed.
It's 'cause we're on the streets. We don't have clothes remember. Shut up.
The only person I'd ever seen shirtless before that was Finch, but he was like a big brother so it didn't matter.
"Goodnight Elise. Sleep well yeah?" His voice startled me.
"Oh... Night. See you in the morning." As if i'd sleep well...
I was awake for a long time, making sure Alistor really was sleeping. Quietly I stood up and brought my shirt and jacket over my head and reached under the couch cushion for my night shirt. It was an extra extra large size and almost went down to my knees. I pulled off my pants and threw them on the end of the couch, bringing my rug over me. I closed my eyes again and tried to sleep. It wasnt for another half hour till I actually did fall asleep...

***

4:Settling

The three of us walked. The Styx was still a while off and it was getting darker.
The sun was well below its horizon by now and the stars were beginning to appear. Streetlights glowed faintly above our heads as we walked past the music straight. Warm lights emanated from the exotic smelling cafes as mixes of jazz, blues and folk rock sounded down the street. It was my favorite place to be, and if we didn't have Alistor with us I'd have stayed and listened for an hour or so before going home. I noticed him dragging his feet a little, looking into the bars and cocking his head to the music he wanted to hear better. He actually stopped momentarily when we passed the Bluejuice Cafe. My favorite. Some scruffy indie guy was playing and his voice was lovely but Finch urged us to keep walking. Obviously he didn't feel like waiting around tonight.
"Do you like music Alistor?" I asked watching the dim blue and orange lights of the music straight come to an end. He and I were instep with each other. Finch was walking quicker and was a shadow on the path.
"I do. One of the best parts of life if you ask me. It's beautiful." he replied although it sounded like he was talking to himself.
"It is... It keeps me sane out here." I laughed and he smiled. "Bit of a nice escape to just sit down here and listen you know?" He nodded and murmured approval before asking how much longer. I told him we still had two blocks till we reached the building. Away from the lights, sheltered only by the morbidly dull glass ghosts that hovered in place above us, the ghetto so called the Styx was definitely eerie. It seemed that every building was whitewashed, and the odd one that wasn't white was a dark charcoal abyss that stared at you as you walked past. The road and paths were littered with rubbish and papers. No surprise of its name. This place looked like a graveyard. A graveyard for a city, the buildings pale and long dead. Covered in grime and dirt... It wasn't nice at all really. I side glanced at Alistor to see his reaction of the place but I couldn't read his expression. I spied a tuft of white hair at the nape of his neck which extended to the left side of his face -the part I couldn't see, and I wondered about him again. He walked differently to both of us, yet different to  everyone else too. It was kind of a graceful slouch. It suited him.
I noticed Finch turn a corner and moments later Alistor and I were right behind him. I could tell the boy beside me was growing slightly anxious.
"Nearly there." I breathed. He looked at me, and looked away and we continued following Finch down the alley. One more turn and we'd reach our destination, but we still had a few moments left of walking to do. Alistor seemed uneasy. Our footsteps were painfully loud against the silence and a pair of pigeons flew in front of us with a rattle of papers. The boy stopped dead in his tracks, unbreathing.
"Alistor? Are you okay?" I asked a little concerned. Perhaps he was... scared? I watched him as his breath returned and he blinked, rubbed his forehead and started walking again.
"I'm... fine. It's just that I'm tired. Long day you know?"
 I murmured a reply and we turned to corner, finding ourselves back on the street, looking directly at the abandoned building that was our "home". The same grime lined its walls and graffiti littered the bottom half, but there were three stories to it and the very top part of the building seemed relatively clean.
"This is the building we saw in the middle of the street when walking down music straight." He looked perplexed. "Why did we go to so much trouble moving through alleyways?"
"'Cause we don't need another troupe of homeless destroying this place. Trust me. We don't want no drug dogs down this house." Finch said, moving the wooden boards from in front of the door revealing a silver padlock. The two holes where doorhandles had been were chained together. A sly idea in my opinion. I threw Finch the key and he unlocked it and threw it back. Alistor seemed fascinated by our hidden makeshift lock. We ushered him inside and he coughed at the dust- something we were long gone used to. A little amount of light from the streetlights filtered in from the grubby windows but besides that it was almost pitch black.
"Do we have lights?"
I pulled a lighter out of my pocket and lit it, providing a little light while Finch grabbed our two  torches out of his bag and switched them both on, handing me one. I put the lighter back in my pocket and we found our way to the corner, near the double set of windows. Here there was an old couch, a wrecked recliner and a few cushions on the floor. In the other corner there was a heap of blankets and a few bottles of something I guessed to be alcohol.
"This is where we sleep." muttered Finch to Alistor. "It's not much compared to what you're used to, but it's better than nothing. The couch is Else's-" I cut him off.
"Oh! Sorry," I frowned. I still hadn't introduced myself. "I'm Elise. You can call me Else or Eli" I watched him smile as I spoke and it made me smile. I couldn't see him too well but there was enough light to make out expressions. He held out a hand to me, the other folded behind his back.
"Nice to meet you, Elise." Alistor said, shaking my hand. His voice was very clean, with a slight husk to it. Finch resumed speaking.
"This is Else's. The recliner is mine, hands off; and the blankets over there aren't yours to bunk on either. You can have these cushions if you want." He said pointing to the holey ripped heap of cushions against the wall. It made me sad. Alistor was our guest. I looked to the couch. It was big enough for both of us...
"Finch," I whined. "Alistor can sleep on one half of the couch if he wants can't he? There's room."
"No." His voice was cold and harsh. I didn't ask again. I watched Alistor indirectly. He was simply studying Finch.
"This is fine" He smiled, sticking his hands into his pockets. "Better than I thought actually." His smile was so infectious... I sat on the couch and patted the spot next to me. He accepted the invitation, putting his bag beside the couch and sat with his back on the opposite arm of the chair, feet up on the cushion.
"Get your torches off. We're savin' the batt'ries you lot, don't got much money remember?" Finch was obviously in a bad mood. I turned the torch off and glared in his direction, glad he couldn't see me because he'd probably snap again. "I'm sleepin'. You lot better soon too..."

3:Waking

I set three steaming plates of leftover pasta on the table and went to fetch Finch who had finally gotten the nerve to stand up and look at the few photographs on the wall. He touched a black and white one and probably didn't realize my presence.
"He's my brother." I murmured. Finch jumped, startled. "He's gone now though.." I trailed off. He opened his mouth to speak but I stopped him. "Dinner's on the table. Do you want to wake her up?" I smiled. He nodded and called to her, gently shaking her arm. She stirred and quickly came to waking.
"Where the hell are we Finch?" She asked, a little frantic. "Did you break int-" Her eyes found me and she fell silent. I returned her gaze, respectively. "Who are you?" She asked quietly.
"I am Alistor. This is my home." I half laughed, smiling.

***

He was a strange boy. Standing so casually yet speaking in such a formal matter. His eyes were a brilliant blue, and his skin pale, but his hair was even more odd. It was jet black, moderately short, but long enough to cover his forehead and over his left ear was a striking flash of pure white hair which looked... natural?
"I have food for you in the kitchen." He continued. I thought his grin'd about break his cheeks if he smiled any harder. I blinked a few times and he came a few steps closer and put his hand out, for me to take. I stood up, rejecting it and paused a few moments. My muscles were sore... They always were after sleeping.
I was surprised though, it was the first time since I can remember not having a nightmare.

I followed him through his house stunned by how beautiful it was in its neatness. Absolutely everything was perfect. Hell, they had white carpet in the living room. It took a lot of nerve to have such a color I bet.
I was still so confused though, I didn't even know why we were here, though I wasn't about to give up a proper meal any time soon. Questions can be asked later. The smell of hot food drifted down the hall and I almost drooled. It smelled so amazingly good! His kitchen was just as nice as the rest of the house and he pulled out my chair like a gentleman. I hesitated, not used to it and stared at my food. Almost immediately I started wolfing it down but halfway through my third fork-full I felt a little guilty. I'd forgotten my manners. What if he wanted to say grace? Was I supposed to wait till Finch was sitting too? I put my fork down, frowning.
Finch was eating now too, relentless. Alistor noted the change and looked up from his plate, giving me a strange look.
"What's wrong? Don't you like it?" A troubled look passed over his face.
"No... It's good." He blinked at me. "I'm sorry."
"What for?" He laughed. I was caught off guard. He didn't notice?
"I-I was rude. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just been so quick to eat like that." I looked down at my food, my stomach growling angrily. I wanted more. Stop talking and eat! it said. He laughed again.
"You're fine. Honestly, it needs to be eaten. You can have more after that if you wish, but we can't stay for too long. We'll have to get moving before my parents get home." He confused me even more.
"What?" I asked, utterly clueless. His face froze for a second and dropped.
"Oh... Um... my turn to apologize. Technically I'm on the streets. I'm leaving home, its too hard to stay here. I really haven't asked either of you properly and it's okay if you refuse, but would it be okay if i bunked with you both for a while? I can give you whatever you want from this house. I'm not coming back." I stared at him, shocked. He wanted to leave this wonder? I could see Finch getting aggravated at the other end of the table.
"You want to leave this?" He hissed. "This beautiful home with its warm carpet, its electricity, its warm beds? Its fridges, its ovens and stoves, its lights, its comfort for god's sake! We have nothing and you want to give this palace away?" I absently noted the Finch's knuckles going white, fists clenching while he raised his voice at the boy on the other end of the table. Alistor was staring at his hands which were neatly folded in front of him. "Hell. Alistor. You have no idea what you're in for. I thought maybe your parents didn't pay you enough attention or something, but this is just ridiculous. I'd kill for this home. You can't come with us." Finch said slamming an open hand on the table. His face was pink. Nobody spoke for what felt like years. Alistor stood up calmly, took his, Finch's and my plates to the sink and ran water over them. He didn't ask if we wanted any more but there wasn't much left in the bowl on the bench anyways. He stood back at the head of the table again, directly opposite Finch and spoke quietly, and smooth. His voice was like the ocean.
"Finch. I don't think you quite understand. You have no idea what my life is like." He closed his eyes for a few seconds and opened them again, pulling up slowly, once sleeve at a time. His pale arms were ravaged. They were tainted by patches of purple and red and a few cuts ran up his left arm, and at the top of his right. "These bruises have been done by him. This cut?" He ran his finger along the only fresh, slender cut that ran up his right arm. It wasn't deep, I could tell but it didn't matter. "Caused by him. These?" He ran  his fingers over the series of small, faint white lines on his left arm. "A result of him." He pointed to his head. "This mess? Shaped by both of them." Alistor was talking of his parents. I felt sorry for him and so sad knowing that I had known his situation once. Finch retired his struggle, speechless and sad.
"I'm sorry." He murmured, dropping his head. "I just assumed... Thank you so much for the food. You're welcome if you want to come with us, isn't he Else?" Finch turned to me with urging eyes. I nodded.
"Please do? I'd like for you to." I smiled. He smiled back, looking back at the floor and pulling his sleeves down. The room felt broken. This house was no longer beautiful, but a fake disguise for it. Alistor opened a few drawers and grabbed a plastic bag filling it with things like chips, beef jerky, chocolate bars and a few drinks. He opened a cupboard above the sink and pulled out a silver container which rattled with coins.
I watched as he carefully pulled out two slivers of paper. I held my breath as I realized it was one hundred dollars. He shoved it into his pocket and said it was for all of us.
"Shall we get moving? It's getting darker and the sooner the better." Alistor murmured quietly, almost to himself.
"I'm fine with that. Else, you cool?" Finch piped up. Protective puppy dog as always.
"Yea Finch. Let's go?" I replied. Alistor stood frozen, thinking.
"Wait. One second." I watched as the odd boy sped out of the kitchen and heard him go upstairs and rummage in one of the rooms. He appeared as quick as he arrived with a dark tie in his hand. On it were strange, navy blue and purple patterns that were almost invisible unless enough light shone on them. It confused me and I thought it silly to bring a tie to the place we were going, but I didn't ask about it yet.
Finch asked if we were ready to go and the boy nodded. We started out the door and I watched him grab a photo frame from the living room and slip it into his bag before locking the door.
This was going to be hard for him, I could tell.

2:Moving

"Oh... Yeah." He looked down at his feet, pondering something for a while. I broke his thoughts, gazing at the small girl beside him.
"You really should get her off the curb. Without any blankets or anything anyways. How do you guys survive like this?" It seemed they had nothing. How the hell were they to survive in winter? I was only a few hours on the streets and had already thought about it.
"We got a place downtown in the Styx. Old abandoned building, where a couple more of us stay. Its pretty quiet though so... Keep your mouth shutta 'bout it kay?"
"Sure thing, I think we really oughta get her out of the cold though. It's going to be cold tonight." I stared at him while he thought, his mind ticking over. I counted the seconds in my head.
Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven...
"Alright..." He sighed and looked to his right. She was sound, but looked uncomfortable; exhausted. Slowly her back would draw in, and out with each breath, her long, brown hair tangled and waving slightly in the wind under the grey, holey hat-beanie that covered her head. I smiled.
"I've got some money, and some things I need to get from home. My father won't be home till around nine, and my mother? She won't be back for another hour or so. She would have left to visit her friend by now. Both of you could come with me and get a proper feed if you like? The only downside is that I'd have to break into my own house, but that's easy." I watched his face flash between emotions and his eyes flicker to the girl beside him. His hands rubbed nervously on the rough concrete that he sat on. Taking another drink out of the thermos, he put it back into his backpack, slung it over his shoulder and with a hard face accepted my invitation on terms that I'd carry the girl so that she could remain sleeping. I was still denied her full name. After all, it's only polite that she introduce herself he said.

I stood with my hands at my sides, fingers touching my thighs, one by one like you see in those old cheesy western movies. Thumb, index, middle, ring then pinky finger and finally back to thumb again. I was thinking about the most comfortable way to lift her. A few seconds more passed and I decided, putting my arm under her back. I paused there, asking if she'd wake. He replied telling me she was a heavy sleeper. I put my other arm under her legs and lifted her up relatively easily. She was light. My house was a block down and around the corner. It wasn't so far, I just didn't know what to expect if she woke up on me. Finch asked where my house was and I pointed in its direction. He nodded and set off. I followed behind him as if he was the one leading and absently studied the rather interesting creature I carried.
Her skin was pale and her hair matted and a mess but her features were soft. Innocent. I could feel each slow, relaxed breath she took and marveled at her fashion choices. Of course, it was likely they weren't choices, but as if that mattered. It was still intriguing to me.
Her jeans were ripped at the knee and the other patched with red. Her jacket was a dark navy which was ripped in the breast and covered a grey oversized t-shirt which looked more from the men's section that women's. Around her wrists were a collection of various bracelets, of wooden beads, weaved string and a black plastic band while around her neck was a thin, crimson scarf. It looked so out of place, such a pretty piece of clothing. It was adorned with intricate gold and silver slivers embroidered into the slightly grimy material. Beneath it hid the tiny sliver of silver. A small, delicate pendant almost completely hidden from view.
I could see my house. The white double story clean and pristine. Almost no garden, just a little grass showed how little time my parents spent at home. Regardless, everything was exceptionally clean.
I called to Finch, pointing it out. I saw his eyes widen a bit. I knew the thought which was probably running through his head... How much he'd give to live in such a house.
It was nice, I must admit, my house. An older, more aged style of architecture gave a calm, homely aesthetic.
Such a deception as to what went on inside it. 'Never judge a book by it's cover'  had  not once applied so much more to me than with this place.
I caught up with Finch and carried the girl up the path and onto the porch, settling her into a chair. He was still shocked by my house. I ignored his wonder and checked the door just in case. Locked, as I expected. No cars in the driveway. I crouched down and lifted the welcome mat up. No key.
I sighed and checked above the door frame. Nothing.
The little pot plant  beside the door provided nothing either.
I growled and checked the windows. Both locked. He obviously didn't want me back.
I exhaled heavily and counted the shoes and boots which were lined up on the wall.
Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven...
I  turned up the shoes I never ever wore and shook them. Work boots. Something small and silver dropped to the floor with a clinking sound. My key.
I laughed to myself and brought it to the lock, wiggling it a little and finally getting the door open.
Finch gingerly held it open, afraid to leave but a mark on the white paint while I lifted the girl up again and carried her inside. Amazingly, she still didn't wake up. She must have been exhausted.
The suddenly timid boy was still lingering at my front door. I called him over into the living room and he walked straight into the middle of the room, astounded. I ushered him to sit and he obeyed and did nothing more. Amused I went to the kitchen and raided our fridge. There was leftover carbonara that I had made the night before. I chucked it into the microwave and went up to my room on the second floor.
I grabbed my dark rucksack from the corner. In it i put my  ipod and a charger (If by some chance we came across power, I don't know.),  a couple pairs of jeans, a jacket, two shirts, my wallet and my pocket knife. I went back downstairs and grabbed a torch from the cupboard above the stove and picked up a sleeping bag from the linen cupboard. Putting my things at the door I glanced back into the living room to see that Finch was still sitting in the chair. Grinning, I went to get his dinner.

Installment 1:Streetlights

I stood in the shadow of the church watching the slow drawl of people coming in and out of the little building. There was a warm friendliness to the air but you could feel the faint reminisces of dirt and grime. Every now and then you'd see one touched by drugs or sex and it made me sick.
So sad how we come to these things.

The aroma drifting from the pale yellow lights across the street was some sort of stew again. Anything that was easy... Nobody wanted to make too much effort after all. My stomach growled and I contemplated getting the sorry man's meal but hesitated, and I don't know why. Perhaps because I still had a few cents in my pocket. Perhaps because, I knew exactly where my  wallet was. I'd just have to break into my own house to get it back.
I wasn't going back there. Not formally.

I was suddenly startlingly aware of the the girl sitting on the curb, her knees held right close to her body while she held out her arms. Whether she was gazing at them or the road, I did not know, but she looked odd in her position, barely moving. Her light, chocolate hair was pulled back into a loose bundle at the back of her head and the loose strays would dance with the wind gently. I couldn't see her face... But something about her made me curious. I stood my ground and stayed in the shadows, still watching her, until i heard a faint whistling advancing. It was slightly out of tune but sounded relatively happy nonetheless. The whistling died out and a young boy, probably a couple years younger than me, dropped to the curb beside the girl with a bag.

"Now, I got some bread Else, and that Tom guy gave me a thermos of hot chocolate for us both" The boy smiled and got the shining silver canister out of the bag, finally looking at her properly. His face immediately dropped, looking extremely sad and tired. She must be sleeping? I thought. I left my post and went to sit beside the boy. He was startled by my presence and obviously didn't realise I was a few feet from him.
"What's your name?" I asked quietly. He sighed and was quiet for a few moments.
"Finch. M'name's Finch Jackson. Yours?"
"I'm Alistor. How come you're out here?" I already knew the answer.
"I 'aven't a home. We live off the streets."
"Me too..." I murmured. His face turned incredulous.
"No home? But you look like you're from a proper rich place." He said, eyeing my jacket.
"The streets are more comforting to be honest..."