A Stranger In His Own House

The house was quiet.

Not the peaceful kind of quiet.

The kind that made your stomach hurt.

The kind that warned you something bad was about to happen.

Xander stepped through the front door and immediately knew his mother was waiting.

The lights were still on.

Alice sat on the couch, hands folded tightly in her lap. Her eyes widened the second she saw him.

"Xander..." she whispered.

Too late.

"Where were you?"

Their mother's voice cut through the room like a knife.

Xander didn't answer immediately.

He already knew it wouldn't matter.

"I went for a walk."

"A walk," she repeated.

Slowly.

Dangerously.

You disappear for hours and expect me to believe that?"

Xander stared at the floor.

His mother stepped closer.

"You continue embarrassing this family."

"I'm not embarrassing anyone."

The room froze.

Alice's face went pale.

Their mother looked shocked.

Not because of what he said.

Because he finally said something back.

For a moment, nobody moved.

Then her expression hardened.

"You think you're grown now?"

"No."

"Then act like it."

Xander swallowed hard.

But he refused to look away.

Something inside him was tired.

Tired of apologizing.

Tired of pretending.

Tired of being blamed for existing.

His mother shook her head in disgust.

"Go to your room."

Xander didn't argue.

He turned and walked upstairs.

Behind him, Alice released a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

⸻

The next few weeks blurred together.

School.

Home.

Silence.

Xander stopped talking to people.

Stopped trying.

Stopped caring what anyone thought.

If classmates spoke to him, he gave one-word answers.

If teachers asked questions, he shrugged.

If someone laughed at him, he didn't react.

The old Xander slowly disappeared.

People called him cold.

But cold was easier than hurt.

The only person he still smiled around was Alice.

Because she was the only thing in that house worth protecting.

Every night she'd sit in his room and talk about school, books, random stories.

And every night he'd listen.

Even when he was exhausted.

Even when he wanted to disappear.

Because Alice deserved better than the life they had.

⸻

A week later, Xander found himself back at the abandoned chapel.

Maybe because it was quiet.

Maybe because it felt safe.

Or maybe because he hoped a certain blue-eyed stranger would be there.

He was.

Marcus sat on the old stone steps, staring at the stars.

When he noticed Xander approaching, something softened in his expression.

"You came back."

Xander shrugged.

"Guess I did."

Marcus moved over slightly, making room.

Neither of them spoke for a while.

The silence felt familiar now.

Comfortable.

Eventually Marcus glanced over.

"You look worse."

Xander laughed.

A short, humorless laugh.

"Thanks."

"I'm serious."

"I know."

Marcus waited.

Patiently.

Like he wasn't trying to force an answer.

Like he actually cared.

And somehow that made it harder.

Xander stared at the grass below.

"My home life sucks."

The words slipped out before he could stop them.

Marcus stayed quiet.

So Xander kept talking.

About the expectations.

About never being enough.

About living in a house where every mistake felt like a crime.

About feeling invisible.

For the first time in years, someone listened.

Didn't interrupt.

Didn't judge.

Didn't tell him he was overreacting.

Just listened.

By the time Xander finished, his throat felt tight.

Marcus looked at him for a long moment.

Then said quietly,

"That sounds lonely."

Xander looked away.

"Yeah."

The word barely came out.

Marcus nodded.

"I get it."

And somehow those three words hurt more than pity ever could.

Because for the first time, Xander believed someone actually understood.

The stars burned overhead.

The wind drifted through the broken chapel.

And for the first time in a long time...

Xander didn't feel completely alone.

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