COMPLETED!!
Warning: This story contains mature LGBT+ themes! If you are not into this kind of thing I would not recommend this story, unless of course, you want to broaden your horizons!
Foster Brother follows the life of Matt Palmer, a selectivel...
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Coming home from school to a strange kid sitting on your couch with your parents might seem weird to some, but it's something that happens to me more often than not. You see my parents are foster parents, every once in a while we get a kid to come to stay with us until they are placed in a different home, adopted or aged out of the system (although my parents hardly get kids old enough for that).
We haven't fostered a kid in a while, my parents have two biological kids, me and my sister April. It was easier for them to foster another kid when we were younger because if it was a boy they would share a room with me and if it was a girl they would share a room with April, but once we were high school age that became more complicated. I guess my parents said they could foster again now that my sister has moved in with her fiancé.
"Matt can you come over here and sit down for a minute," my mom says with a smile. I nodded quickly and walk over to the couch and take in the appearance of the boy. My mouth dropped open as my eyes landed on the bruised and bloody guy sitting in front of me. He has a permanent scowl on his face, his arms crossed over his chest, and wondering eyes which never seemed to land on me or my parents for very long.
"Matt this is Owen, Owen this is my son, Matt," my mother's ever so sweet voice filled the uncomfortable silence in the room, "if you wouldn't mind could you show him to April's room and the bathroom so he can clean up and settle in? Owen will be staying with us for a while."
"Sure mom, follow me," I say with a sickly sweet smile, for some reason, knowing it will piss him off made me want to do it. Owen let out a strange grunt noise and followed me up the stairs. We walked down the hall until we hit the second door on the left, opening it and stepping inside. Luckily for poor Owen, April was never the extremely girly type, her walls were painted a light grey color and all her furniture was painted white. My mother must have bought new sheets and comforter for Owen because the bed was made with grey sheets and a dark blue comforter, something April would never have.
"Well this will be your room," I said and pointed to the second door in the room, "and that's the bathroom, it's a jack and Jill so my bedroom is on the other side and we share it."
"I know what a Jack and Jill bathroom is," he finally spoke, shocking me with his deep voice, "I'm gunna shower and clean my cuts."
"Do you need help?"
"I'm perfectly capable of showering myself," he says with a smirk.
"That's not at all what I meant!" I almost yelled, my face turning slightly pink. I quickly remove myself from the awkward situation and make my way downstairs. My mom and dad are talking in hushed voices in the living room and when I walk in they stop, seeming relieved when they see it's only me.
"So who is going to explain why we have a bloody and bruised foster teen in our house?"
My mom speaks first, "it was an emergency situation, his last foster parent kicked him out of the house and I guess he got mugged on the street. They found him on the ground, bruised and bloody, and took him to the police station. A social worker called me a few hours after that and asked if we could take him in."
"Shit poor kid," my dad says, apparently he has not been fully caught up either.
"He turns 18 in 6 months, so we only have to house him until he ages out unless by some miracle he ends up being a great kid, then he will be welcomed to stay as long as he wants. Although by the look of his file, he could be a difficult one."
"He's your age son so I'm hoping you can be a good influence on him and help him with adjusting," my dad chimes in.
"I will try my best," I say with a weary smile, this shall be interesting. I hear the shower turn off upstairs and head up. He didn't come with a bag, the police said he should be able to go get his stuff tomorrow, but he will need clothes until then. Mine should fit him relatively ok, he's slightly taller than me but we seemed to have the same build.
I gently knocked on his door, I waited patiently as I heard shuffling on the other side of the door and finally it swung open to reveal a very naked Owen, just a towel hanging around his waist. I awkwardly coughed and strained my eyes to only look at his face. Although his face didn't help my situation, once the blood was cleaned up I could see how good looking Owen actually was. He has dark brown, almost black eyes, light brown hair that was messily sat on his head, and a strong jawline. His lips, currently placed in a scowl, were full and pale pink. And I was correct, we had basically the same build, fit but not buff. My eyes locked onto the small cut right at the base of his hairline on his forehead, it had stopped bleeding but it didn't look great, he also had a purplish-black bruise forming under his right eye.
When I was finally able to find my words I quickly said, "I brought you some joggers and a t-shirt, I saw you didn't have stuff with you and thought you would like some non-bloodied things."
"Thanks," his voice sounded softer than it was earlier and his lips were placed in a half-smile instead of his usual scowl. He looked genuinely surprised at my gesture and it made my heart hurt.
"Listen, I don't know what you have been through in the past foster homes or in life in general but we are good people and we will take care of you."
His smile quickly disappeared, "you're right, you know nothing." And with that, he slammed the door in my face. Smooth Matt, real smooth.
