The faint touch against his hair yanked Pyre out of his slumber faster than a three-thousand alarm clocks ever could. He had someone pinned beneath him before his eyes were even open. His muscles were tense, ready to attack, because simply defending himself didn't usually work against his father, but when he blinked his blurry eyes, clearing his vision, he realized that it hadn't been his father that had touched him.

"Snaky..." he whispered, accidentally using the nickname he'd given his new snake friend instead of his real name. 

The man beneath him stared up at him with calm eyes, but there was something else there that Pyre couldn't quite read. He wasn't given much time to consider it, either, because he soon found himself at a loss for words, or any other general reaction, when the man lifted his arm and pressed a finger to his nose... then slowly pushed it until Pyre found himself off balance, fumbling backwards with his arms waving as a surprised yelp left his lips. 

As he regained himself, then hurried to his feet, Pyre noticed that the other man was already up and staring at him with his arms crossed over his chest. His expression didn't seem upset, though. He just seemed to be waiting for something. 

I'm guessing that he's not wanting what I'm wanting, but then why is he staring at me like that? 

He crossed his own arms over his chest before he realized what Fen was staring at. 

I'm still wearing his expensive jacket. 

Pyre quickly shrugged off the clothing and offered it to the taller man with a nervous smile. 

"Sorry, I totally forgot I was wearing it." 

Fen reached forward and took the coat, but hesitated putting it back on. 

Does it smell weird? I swear I took a shower two days ago when dad wasn't home... and I definitely used deodorant this morning. 

The man lifted the coat slightly, eyeing it for a moment before looking over it toward Pyre again. He did that several more times before pursing his lips and swinging the coat forward. 

Pyre immediately became defensive, but he managed to hold his fists back just enough to realize that the man wasn't intending to use the jacket to restrain him, but was just draping it back over his shoulders. 

Alarm bells began going off in the back of his head, but he tamped them down just enough so that he could try to make sense of the situation without jumping to conclusions. 

He watched the man's expressions change over the time they stared at each other. Several of them he could figure out. Curiosity, confusion, displeasure, and of course, judgement, but there were quite a few others things mixed in there, as there had been previously, that he couldn't put his finger on. 

The awkward tension finally broke, however, when Fen looked toward his partially-broken door with several fist-sized holes punched in it at different heights and angles, then looked over toward the dirty window opposite it. 

Guessing his silent question, Pyre hurried to the window and grabbed the bottom ledge. After a few good yanks he felt it begin to give, then after two more determined shoves, it slammed upward and got stuck. 

"There we go," he said, proud that it had only taken him a few tries to get it. The window was finicky as hell and often refused to be opened if it had been shut for any decent amount of time. 

I swear he glues it shut just to fuck with me, but I don't intend on ever coming back after today, so who cares. 

He hopped up and was about to climb out when he felt strong hands on his waist. They easily tugged him back inside and deposited him on the partially-buckled floor. 

Pyre had a few choice words he wanted to yell at the guy for touching him, again, but he bit his tongue as he watched Fen step up to the small window and carefully maneuver himself out of it. There were a few spots on his left arm that got cut from the broken glass in that area, but he didn't even seem to notice as he finally disappeared from view, having dropped down to the ground. 

Uh, okay. I guess you can go first... jerk. 

Grumbling, Pyre tucked his arms into the sleeves of his, evidently, new coat, then climbed up again. He was careful not to cut the left arm, but because he made himself stay away from that side, he had to partially fall out of the window. 

Of course, he didn't mind. There was just mud below, so it wouldn't really hurt and the jacket could be washed... hopefully. It was pretty fancy...

He didn't give himself time to really contemplate his actions further because he could hear his father waking up in the other room. Thus, he quickly shoved himself out the window without hesitation. 

The landing he expected came... kind of. His legs hit the mud at the same time he felt arms sloppily catch him from behind around his upper torso.

He stayed to make sure I didn't get hurt? 

Pyre let himself be carried away from the mud, but it took a fuck-ton of effort not to squirm his way out of the man's arms. Even if that meant diving face-first into the foul-smelling muck that surrounded his father's house. 

When he knew that he was clear, he did wiggle free of the guy, and thankfully, he didn't fight him on it. He did, however, grab his arm right as he was about to fall and made sure to straighten him out at the last second so that he landed safely on his feet. 

Okay, I'm done with all this caring crap. 

Shaking off Fen's hand, Pyre straightened and shrugged off the guy's coat. When he offered it back to him, the man just stared at him, his brows furrowed slightly in confusion. 

Don't get him wrong, it was a damn nice coat, and seriously warm, but he knew that it would only put a target on his head. People would either think that he stole it, or would try to steal it from him, themselves. He was good at fighting, but people on the streets didn't always fight with their fists. It wasn't worth it. 

Fen reached forward after a few more moments of contemplation, but instead of taking the jacket, he gently set his hand atop Pyre's head. 

This guy...

"Thanks for offering it to me, but I can't keep it," he said honestly. 

The guy seemed about to say something when they both turned, hearing a car approaching. 

Holy damn. That's a Mercedes Benz.

It stopped a few yards away, and as soon as the door opened a man dressed like a literal butler got out and bowed to Fen, then spoke as he straightened back up. 

"Master Merkallo," he said, then hesitated as he realized that his master wasn't even wearing his coat in the cold weather, and on top of that, his clothing had quite a bit of mud on it, too. 

Fen gave the man a slight nod of acknowledgement, then turned back to Pyre. 

"Come with us," he finally said. 

Holy fuck that voice does things to me. 

It was too bad that he didn't trust people. Sure, he'd brought him home, but going to his place? The one that the doorman had just chased him away from because he didn't look good enough to be there? 

Hard pass. 

Pyre stepped forward and shoved the coat into Fen's arms, then turned and started walking away. He wasn't sure what he expected the guy to do in response, but when absolutely nothing happened and no sound met his ears, he picked up his pace, stopping only when he reached the front of the crappy development. He turned around at that point, yet neither Fen, nor his butler, had stopped watching him from where they still stood. 

Deciding to get the hell out of there, Pyre began running. He left footprints for about half a block before most of the mud was knocked off of his shoes. He took a few turns and exited onto a different street that lead back into town. 

He had a feeling that they might have tried to follow him, but at the same time, it made no sense for them to do so. He was just some ratty kid from a, literally, broken house. It had stopped being a home the moment his mother had left. 

The thought to go to her house nudged at his mind, but he quickly shoved it away. He wouldn't bother her. He'd already been there last week. He would hold onto those memories, those smiles, until he couldn't take it any longer. Then he'd go back... but just for a few hours, if she wasn't busy. 

Licking his lips, Pyre felt a shiver go down his spine. It was getting cold again, even though it was still pretty early in the morning. The wind definitely didn't help. 

I shouldn't have let myself get distracted. I had plenty of sweatshirts in the pile in my room. 

It was too bad. He didn't ever plan on going back, and especially not just for a sweatshirt. Thinking for a moment, he turned and started heading toward the homeless shelter fourteen blocks away. 

He did his best to block out the chill and keep as close to buildings as he could to cut some of the wind, but by the time he finally got there he was shivering hard. 

Thankfully, the building was heated. It smelled like old gym socks and dirty carpet, but it was a rare reprieve. There were several security guards milling about, but no one really dared to mess with anyone when they were inside. It was a safe space. 

He walked past the entryway and stepped into one of the back rooms where they usually had food available. Since he wasn't planning on ever going back to his father's house, he greedily took two bagged peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, as well as an apple and a bottle of water before making his way to a cafeteria-like area and finding a spot to sit against the wall in the back corner. 

He tore into the sandwiches first, making short work of both. The apple was taken slower. It was one of his favorite fruits, and since he rarely came down to the shelter, he rarely got any. Of course, they were just the basic, cheap ones, but he still greatly appreciated being allowed to have one. The flavor, which really wasn't bad, was just a plus. 

Just the thought of being able to come back more than once a month to eat a full meal instead of trying to sneak scraps out of his father's fridge to eat had him blinking back tears. He could come as much as he wanted now. 

He let himself relax as he slowly worked on his apple and water. By the time he was finished the room had cleared out a bit, the breakfast crowd dispersing out onto the streets to panhandle or just find a place to spend the day. 

I need something warmer before I go wandering around. 

Finishing off his breakfast, he hopped up, feeling pretty darn good for once. Nothing pushed away the dark clouds over his head like warmth and an apple.

Looking around the room, he located the sign he was looking for above a doorway and headed over. There were four laundry machines going and several massive stacks of different clothing items all sorted into different areas. 

"Hey Ann," he said to the elderly worker busily folding towels. 

The old woman turned around slowly, her eyes lighting up when she noticed who had spoken to her. 

"Oh my little fire," she said in a rasping, quiet voice as she hobbled toward him to pull his skinny body into her bony arms for a hug. 

"My little Pyre. I have missed you," she said as she patted his back, then released him and grasped her hands in front of her.

Ann was one of the few people he was okay being close to. She came to the shelter many, many years ago needing help. They had helped her so much, and she had been so appreciative, that she had signed on to volunteer once she had gotten back on her feet. Now, some fifteen years later, she was still helping with the laundry, or cooking the evening meal, or even vacuuming the floors after most of the needy had left for the day. 

Pyre offered her a genuine smile and gestured down at his old, worn clothing. 

"Got anything nice for me today, Ann?" 

The little old lady beamed and hurried him toward a long table with stacks of different clothing on them. She had an outfit in her arms in moments and was holding the small bundle out to him with a cheerful smile. 

Pyre took the items with a "thank you," and walked into one of the two changing rooms in the back corner. 

He came out about three minutes later with a pair of decently-fitting black jeans on, a bright red sweater and a matching beanie that appeared brand new. 

"Oh, look at you, sweetheart. I am so glad I chose that sweater. It goes very well with the hat I made," she said as she reached her little arms up and adjusted the hat just-so. 

"You look very handsome, young man," she said proudly. 

Pyre looked away from a moment, rubbing at his neck before returning his attention to her. 

"You made me a hat?" he asked, honestly so, so grateful. 

He stepped forward and hugged her as she nodded. 

"Thank you. It's really soft and warm," he said before releasing the poor lady that he hadn't meant to squeeze so tightly. 

"You are very welcome, my fire. I—" her words cut off abruptly as Pyre heard someone walk into the room behind and to the left of him. 

"Ah, Mr. M! Welcome, welcome," Ann said as she hurried toward the man that Pyre couldn't believe was standing before him. 

Except, instead of his muddy jeans and warm jacket, he had on a perfectly tailored charcoal gray suit and matching tie. His messy hair had also been styled perfectly with just a few wisps of dark hair settled here and there across his forehead. 

When Fen finished speaking with Ann about something Pyre's ears refused to pick up because of the nervous ringing making him deaf, the older woman hurried off to deal with a dryer that had just buzzed for her attention. 

That's when Pyre felt his mouth go dry as the man's attention finally turned to him.