As soon as Charlie woke up the next morning, he wanted nothing more than to be asleep again. He was still tired, and the world just seemed like too much to face just then. Too much to ever face.

Charlie put in his music and shut his eyes, blocking out the world once again. He was hungry and he needed to pee, but before he'd put his music on he had been able to hear his grandparents up and moving around and he didn't know what he'd do if he encountered them.

With his eyes shut and his music turned up loud, Charlie didn't notice anyone had entered the room until he felt someone's hand on his shoulder, shaking it. He startled and opened his eyes to see his grandpa standing over him. He quickly pulled out his earphones.

"Best get moving," his grandpa said. "Your gran wants to take you to look at schools today."

The weight of all the things he would have to do that day made Charlie's body tense. "I haven't gone to school since— since I was ten. I'm going to be really behind."

"So you'll work hard and catch up," Charlie's grandpa said. "Get dressed and then come and have some breakfast. Now you can have some of that cereal you wanted last night."

Charlie cringed inwardly at the reference to the previous night's events, but there was no anger in his grandpa's voice. As soon as his grandpa had left the room, Charlie reluctantly dressed in some of the new clothes they’d bought during yesterday’s shopping trip. He hadn’t had his head together enough to contribute much in the way of picking anything, but what they’d ended up with had been okay. There were T-shirts and jeans and a new hoodie, and that was all he really needed.

He had expected another lecture from his grandma as soon as she spotted him, but instead she just set a bowl of muesli in front of him without a word. There was more milk in it than he liked, and there were almonds, which he didn't like and carefully picked out, but he ate silently and without complaints.

As soon as he was finished eating, his grandma hurried him out to the car.

Living with his dad, Charlie had learnt to shut himself down when everything got to be too much to deal with. He quieted his mind until all it took in were simple commands and enough information about his surroundings in order to navigate them. This strategy didn't work too well when his grandma seemed to want him to make conversation. Charlie's long periods of silence had never bothered his dad much. It was almost a relief when they reached the first school.

It felt weird, being back in a school after all these years, even if it was just for a tour rather than to actually attend. Charlie felt strangely self conscious, like maybe the students who cast curious looks in his direction as the vice principal led Charlie and his grandma through the halls could tell he had been broken or maybe just born wrong. He felt like the centre of attention, though in truth the few looks he got were mostly disinterested.

Charlie's grandma rejected the first school after discussing their catch up programs and deeming them insufficient and they got back into the car and drove on to the next. Charlie had officially had enough. He just wanted to go back to his grandparent’s house and put his music on and pretend he didn't exist. Every time he found some way to release some of the tension physically, be it by rocking or tapping or chewing his knuckles, his grandma would tell him to stop. By the time they reached the next school, Charlie wanted to bite someone.

The first school had been mostly inside two large, connected buildings, but this one consisted of several separate smaller buildings surrounded by plenty of space to sit outside and eat lunch. The bit of Charlie's brain that cared about anything at all just then preferred that. The cafeteria at the other school had looked like it would be far too noisy and full of food smells during lunch time.

It was the sound of music as they passed between two buildings that really caught Charlie's attention, though. It was lunchtime and students were milling about everywhere, and over the top of their conversations came the sound of a guitar being played and a smooth male voice singing along. Charlie barely got a glimpse of the small stage out in the courtyard before they moved along to the next building, but even that small amount of music had loosened and relaxed something inside Charlie. Maybe he could deal with this for a little while longer.

After a bit of discussion about Charlie's situation that his grandma seemed to deliberately keep vague, the lady giving them the tour told them that Charlie could be put at different grade levels for different classes depending on his level of knowledge in each area. There were tutors available to help if he needed it, too, as well as a disability program which his grandma quickly dismissed with a disapproving frown.

Charlie was relieved when they finally went home for lunch. His grandma discussed the school with his grandpa while they ate, but Charlie was thoroughly tuned out. His grandma had to say his name repeatedly just to get his attention to ask if he'd liked the school. He told her he had, though in truth he'd been too distracted to take in much about it.

It wasn't really a lie when Charlie said he didn't feel well after lunch and retreated to his room to listen to his music. He didn't feel sick, but he felt a long way from well. He lay down, put his earphones in, squeezed his eyes shut and wished he didn't exist. He didn't want anything as dramatic as death, he just wanted the world to stop for a while. He knew it never would.

He made it until dinner time before his grandpa came to get him.

"Things will be better once you start school," Charlie's grandpa said from where he stood in the doorway. "You'll see. Once you make some friends, settle in, things won't seem so bad anymore."

Charlie nodded and didn't give voice to all the worries that swarmed his mind. What if he didn't make friends? What if the other kids were mean to him? What if he never managed to settle in? He couldn’t remember ever in his life truly feeling settled and okay. Even when his mum had still been alive, all she’d been able to do was keep him going from day to day and help him pull himself back together when things got bad. How could his grandparents, who had never understood him and seemed to actively dislike him, do better?

Dinner was chicken pie and Charlie managed to get the whole thing down and only got snapped at twice for picking at his food. After dinner Charlie's grandparents tried to get him to play scrabble with them, but Charlie told them he was tired and retreated back to his room.

For about an hour, lying on his bed in the dark, things were stable, okay, and then the song Charlie was listening to slowed and stopped as the batteries in his walkman died again. Charlie felt like he was going to cry. He needed to go and ask his grandparents for new batteries, but he just… couldn’t. He felt too raw.

What he really wanted was to go home, back to a place where the world was at least semi-predictable. His dad wasn’t always nice to him, but they’d established ways of dealing with one another over the years that mostly worked. His dad got him batteries, his dad let him be weird, and in return Charlie had learned to lock himself away instead of lashing out.

Charlie spent several minutes staring off into space and tapping out the beat to distant music before he even became consciously aware he was hearing it. Or was he? It wouldn't be the first time he'd imagined he could hear quiet music when he was over stressed. A need to discover the truth was what got Charlie to his feet and over to the glass door that connected his bedroom to the garden.

As soon as the door was open, the realness of the music was confirmed. It was still quiet, but Charlie could hear it clearly enough now that he was sure it wasn't imagined. He hesitated on the precipice between his room and the garden for a moment before stepping outside, drawn towards the beat of the music.

Charlie knew he probably shouldn't have left the house without telling anyone, but he found it hard to care just then. He'd tried his best to be good and he'd failed miserably. He followed the fence that bordered their yard until he found his way to the gate. He opened it quietly and stepped through.

The music was coming from one of the flats next door to them. Charlie knew he wasn't supposed to go over there, that it was trespassing, but he found himself following the music anyway.

The block of flats was single story, set out with cramped gardens around them and a path that led across the small patch of lawn between the flats. Charlie followed the path towards the sound of music and was led to the flat closest to the fence that separated them from Charlie's grandparents' house.

There was a small porch outside the flat, and Charlie found a clear spot and settled himself next to the door. The music wasn't disruptively loud, but he could hear it clearly enough to satisfy himself from this close. He shut his eyes and let his thoughts melt away into soothing punk rock.

Charlie jumped sharply when, several songs later, something brushed against his hand. He opened his eyes to see a fluffy white cat sitting in front of him, watching him curiously.

"Do you live here?" Charlie asked, careful to keep his voice quiet enough so that he wouldn't be heard by whoever was inside.

“Mrrow,” the cat responded.

Charlie nodded thoughtfully and reached a hand out to stroke its ears. "I'm just visiting. Hope you don't mind."

The cat rubbed itself against Charlie's hand enthusiastically and Charlie concluded that no, it didn't mind. They sat together quietly, Charlie stroking the cat and listening to the music and the cat enjoying the affection. He wasn't sure how much time passed before someone started moving around inside the flat and the music was turned off.

As soon as the cat started meowing and clawing at the door, Charlie quickly moved away. A moment later the door opened just wide enough for the cat to slip inside. As soon as the door was shut again the light inside was turned off. Bedtime for whoever lived there. Charlie let out a yawn. Bedtime for him, too. He crept down the path and made it back to his grandparents house without being spotted.