This was one of my favorite chapters to write, particularly because I love found family tropes and writing about friendships. Give this song a listen as you read, it's really good, and it relates to Jim and Douxie a lot.

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   "Douxie. I shouldn't have to say anything. You know you can't go back to the castle." Archie flicked his tail.

   Douxie's stomach hurt. He took a deep breath, trying not to groan. He heard Archie sigh. "Hungry and tired? I think we should go to Jim's house."

   "Why Jim?" Douxie asked, leaning his head on the brick wall. He was standing in an alleyway a few blocks from Mr. Benoit's, where he'd finished his shift a few minutes before.

   "You know why. The reasons are numerous. He can feed you sufficiently, and there is the fact that he needs you, too."

   "Can't argue with that. Let's go, then."

   Archie flew beside him as Douxie walked down the street in the direction of Jim's house. "I hope he's home," Douxie muttered.

   "Why don't you just text him?"

   "I can," Douxie pulled out his phone and texted Jim, asking if he was at his house.

   No reply, after half an hour. Jim was usually really good with messaging back. He always did it as soon as he could

   "That's odd." Douxie said. "He's probably fine, right?"

   "Yes. But let's go to Toby's house and see if he's there."

   "Alright then. And by the way, your eyeliner is smudged."

             A few minutes before

   Jim put his bike away in the driveway, not missing the hollow miserableness that had come with the loss of his Vespa and lingered with him every time he came into the garage. He hung his bag on the stair post like he always did, and sighed, looking around.

   He'd come home instead of going out for burgers with Toby, Claire, and Darci. They all told him to have a nap, and that they'd reschedule it in a few days.

   Jim couldn't argue with them, though he'd been embarrassed. Toby noticed first, then Claire, and soon they were both asking him if he was okay and how much sleep he got. He'd almost fallen asleep in class, and Claire had slipped him her hand mirror to let him see himself.

   There were dark circles under his eyes, and he looked paler than usual. He'd gulped, and given it back to her.

   He didn't talk about the nightmares a lot. Not enough for Toby to really consider it as a huge problem. Claire knew, though. Somehow, she always managed to read him like a book.

   Now, they were both worried about him. He could see it in their eyes when they thought he didn't see them looking.

   Jim fell onto the couch and dosed off, slipping into much-needed sleep. 

   They walked along the road to Toby's house, but as they passed by Jim's house, Douxie noticed that the lights were on in Jim's living room.

   Him and Archie looked at each other. "Let's just stop by." Too many harmless–seeming disasters had happened to Douxie and Archie that they didn't trust everyday coincidences as much as normal people did.

   Stepping up to the door, Douxie knocked softly. There was probably nothing wrong.

   No answer.

   He tried the knob. The door swung open wide, and, with his heart in his throat, Douxie walked inside to see his friend sprawled across the living room couch fast asleep.

   One leg dangled off the side, the other propped up on the arm rest. Jim's hair was messy, and he looked so, so tired.

   Relieved, Douxie relaxed and closed the door.

  He gently unlaced Jim's Converses, slipped them off, and put them on the floor by the front door.

   "I'll make tea," Archie volunteered, and strolled off into the kitchen.

   Jim shifted, his lips parting. Douxie sat down on the floor by the couch. His stomach growled loudly, making Douxie flinch.

   Jim mumbled something, and his arm moved in the edge of Douxie's vision.

   Douxie didn't want to wake him, and he also would never take food from him without permission, so he waited patiently for Jim to wake up.

   He decided he'd give Jim twenty minutes.

   Archie brought out the tea and Douxie sipped it slowly, being careful not to burn his tongue. Finally, after ten minutes, Jim opened his eyes and sat up.

   "Douxie?" Jim mumbled. "What – what are you doing here?"

Douxie gulped down more tea and set it on the coffee table. "Well, I originally came because I needed a place to eat and get my strength back up, only for a few hours. I... don't really have anywhere else to go."

   Archie cut in, "Douxie has been overworking himself and he doesn't have enough money on him to buy food. Normally he'd go up to the castle, but he needs food. Even with his staff, he still has managed to weaken himself this much."

   "Whoa. That isn't good. Why are you working so hard?" Jim asked. "It's also kind of ironic that you work so much yet have so little money." 

    Douxie crossed his arms. "My paycheck comes Friday. So less than two days."

   "Well, you're welcome to stay here as long as you want."

   "Thanks. So, um. What happened?"

   Jim ran a hand through his hair, trying to tame it. "What do you mean?"

   Douxie gestured at the couch and Jim. "You know what I mean. This whole thing. Are you okay? The nightmares got worse, didn't they?"

   "Er, yeah. They kind of did. Last night, I had a..." Jim took a deep breath, "really bad one, and I just couldn't sleep after that. And school was... school."

   "Jim, just tell me about the actual dreams. Please," Douxie sat beside him, hands on his knees. "You know you can talk to me, and talking helps." He carefully watched the emotions on Jim's face as they shifted, noticing that his eyes were redder than normal.

   Jim took a deep breath, breaking eye contact. "They... They remind me of a lot of the stuff that's happened to me, and... It's painful."

   Jim stared down at his hands, focusing on the scars that disfigured them. One of the larger ones slashed through a knuckle, another diagonal to it. The rest were tiny and hardly noticeable, unless you really looked at it.

   "The same has happened to me," Douxie said, pulling him into a hug.

   Letting himself be held, Jim sighed softly. He felt Douxie squeeze gently, and knew that he didn't need to explain more. Further words were unneeded and insufficient.

   He wished that Douxie would become happy. And have a proper family. Maybe it was impossible, but...

   A family.

   The idea hit him like an ocean current, fast and strong. It pulled at him like the tide pulling back into the sea and dragging his thoughts into a long spiral.

   As he made dinner, he thought about it. As they set the table together, he thought about it. When his mom came home, he thought about it.

   She was late and tired, so Jim and Douxie insisted that they'd wait to eat dinner until after she showered and changed.

   After they ate dinner, Jim asked her if he could talk with her privately. They went into her room and sat on the bed.

   "That's a really good idea, Jim. I'm glad you thought of something like that. But I don't know if Douxie would want that," Barbara started, when Jim had explained.

   "But it's the best thing for him," 

   "One step at a time, Kiddo. And you know what step one is, right?"

   "'Course, Mom." Jim kissed her cheek. "G'night."

   "Goodnight, Jim,"