The stairs to sanctuary were just a few feet away, past the doorway to the kitchen where his mother had called from. With a sigh, Ren trudged in to stand at the doorway, peering at the blonde woman holding open the fridge. Glasses perched atop her head, his mother peered at him over the top of the juice pitcher, squinting somewhat in the light of the open appliance. “Karen? I know it’s Friday, but it’s pretty late for you to come in.” Her voice trailed off, adjusting enough in the dim light to note the ragged tips of hair now haloing his head beneath the beanie, and not the customary ponytail that hung down his back. “What in the world happened to your hair? When did you cut it?”

He flinched at the name visibly in the form of an eye twitch, taking a moment to keep it from jarring him out of his good mood completely. Lucky that he’d been named after his mother’s favorite aunt, right? Several seconds passed while possible responses flitted through his mind’s eye, availing several outcomes that steadily worsened as more thoughts about his last week alone at home filtered through. “Maybe you’d know if you were here more often.” Ren spat out at last, taking large steps towards the stairs and bounding up as fast as possible.

His mother had apparently been stunned into silence, for as soon as he closed the door and locked it, he realized he needn’t have bothered to hurry. It almost hurt more that she didn’t follow, than what would have had conflict arisen. Hot tears welled and a quick swipe of his sweater clad arm tugged them from his vision, allowing him a moment to gather himself once again.

His chest was throbbing out a message most dire, impressing upon him the need to remove the bandage lest more problems arise on a night that just needed to stop already. Wriggling slowly out of his hoodie, the blond wrested himself free, eagerly unwinding the bandage and wincing at the red welts pressed into his flesh. The more skin freed, the easier it was to breath, until at last he sagged onto his bed and dropped the wad of cloth beside him. Oh gods, fresh sweet air.

It hurt. But in a way, it was a good hurt. Not a healthy hurt, according to the forums. But it made him feel better, and nothing was gross or stuck out where it wasn’t supposed to. He felt. Normal. Right. A normal kid, on a normal night out with friends. Was that so much to ask?

His hand flopped towards the edge of the bed, groping for a cotton shirt to tug on and kick off his shoes in the process. Thinking about his mother and her sudden appearance into his plans made his headache, best to just shove it aside and think of something else. Like tomorrow, and hanging with his new friends. Group? Posse? Clowder? Ren snorted at the last thought, comparing Ethan in his mind and finding it an acceptable title. He was prissy like a cat at times, liked naps, his hair fluffed up, and he had a habit of getting into trouble.

Eventually his heart began to lose the thunder of anxiety that had boiled up the moment his mother had called to him. Choosing his name had powerful meaning. Weeks of research, sitting in the book stores, looking over his shoulder while pulling down books on baby names. Ren had been almost at his wits end until some lucky barista had made his day by barely making out his chicken scratch for pick up and called out ‘Ren?’ It had clicked. That special little click that came when one more piece of the fucked up puzzle that was his life came together at last.

It sounded masculine, to him. And when she handed over the drink, glancing over him disinterestedly and passing over his cap and jacket covered form, she offered the normal ‘have a nice day, sir’. Giddy with the euphoria of her address, he scalded his tongue on his way out the door, smiling even as it burnt while he fumbled out of the way with his misfortune. Like destiny.

“Being two birds isn’t that bad, right?” He asked of his ceiling, staring at the popcorn textured ceiling where tacked up posters watched over him in various forms of video game and classic movie heroes. None of his idols seemed to be willing to communicate with him, for an answer never came. “Fine. Be that way. I think it’s a great name.” Rolling your eyes at a piece of colored paper was very mature. Such adult.

His phone buzzed, pulling him away from his staring contest with caped crusaders battling aliens, of which swore was not a losing battle. Tugging the inked case from his jeans, he ran his gaze over the blinking light of a new text, swiping open the password to peer at the full message instead of the stupid preview of four words.

You okay with coming to El’s tomorrow? You can say no. -E

Biting one’s lip and chewing it bloody was definitely a bad habit, but not one he was too worried about breaking. It was this side of Ethan that the rest of the student body never saw. Elliott and Malcolm likely excluded, of course. Away from the public and school, he was still a bit of a jerk, but these little concerns and small reminders just helped to cement that he was, in fact, human. Debating over his response, Ren found he really wasn’t too nervous about the sudden invite. Something about the bespectacled upperclassman niggled at the back of his head, a sense that he had far more experience with kids like him than he let on.

‘What do you like to be called?’

The simple inquiry felt like a loaded weapon, yet in El’s hands, it was more like a gentle entreaty. Damned if it hadn’t felt like the man just -knew- what the question meant to him too. Maybe sometime during the next afternoon, he could find a way to pull the other blond aside and ask in private.

No worries, they seem pretty cool.

Obviously you spent the evening with your head in the clouds then. -E

A bark of laughter wriggled free from his throat, his smile finally breaking through.

I dunno, they had you down to a T.

That is slander and I demand restitution. -E

You snooze you lose man. But hey, how bout I grab dinner for us after?

I accept, see you tomorrow. -E

Plopping his phone back onto his nightstand and setting it to charge, Ren kicked down his blankets and settled in for bed. Hopefully by the time he woke up, his mom would be off on some errand or other, allowing him time to breathe and her time to forget. That confrontation was exactly opposite of what he’d needed during his already on the fence day. With luck, next time he would be properly prepared for a sit down. Now? Really not the right time.