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...

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