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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Walking back through the front door of my house with Owen trailing slowly behind me felt like the biggest win of my life. All of my fears have been fixed, I have him back, he's safe, and best of all he doesn't hate me. I feel horrible, if I knew slapping him would have caused him this much pain I would have never even hit him, I was just so damn furious with him at that moment. But, now he is back and that can all be behind us now.
My happiness almost immediately falls away when I see the look on both of my parents' faces. Unhappy wouldn't even justify their emotions, the furry in my mother's eyes and the disappointment in my father's was enough to snap me back to the reality of all of this.
"Are you that stupid?" my mother's angered voice rings in my ears, my heart pleading for her to take it easy on him, "You read his file Matt, do you understand that that is completely illegal? And to top it off you did it while the cops were sitting in our fucking living room!"
"Wait, you are mad at me right now?"
"Of course we are," it was my father's turn to voice his opinion, "we told you to stay out of it and let the cops handle it. Yet, you went through the file and then disappeared to go rescue him from God knows where!"
"He was just doing what felt right," Owen's strong voice came from behind me.
"Owen, can you just go to your room so we can have a discussion with Matt?" my mother's angry voice turns into a soft motherly one as she speaks to him. Without an answer, Owen turns away and heads up the stairs. The anger directed at me was shocking, but the pure, protective motherliness she is showing Owen is even more so. I don't even think she has a hint of anger directed toward him.
"I'm sorry, alright," my voice shakes a little as I address my parents, "I had to find him before the cops would because I knew if they found him I would never see him again. Owen and I have grown close and I don't want to see him hurt anymore. We have to let him stay here."
"I just do not think that is a good idea. He punched you and he ran away from our home. First of all, violence will not be tolerated in this house. Second of all, if something would have happened to him while he was gone it would be blamed on us, we are the responsible party for him which means we are responsible for his actions until he is eighteen. We can't have someone that unpredictable in this house."
"Mom, you can't do this to me," I weakly mumble, tears starting to roll down my face. I watch my parents exchange a strange look before I quickly spit out, "or to him."
"I'm sorry, son," my dad softly says, "we have made up our minds."
The tears run freely down my cheeks now, my breathing in hard sobs as the words my father says repeat over and over in my head. They can't take him away, they can't do that to me, and they can't take away another good home from him.
"Can I talk to him before you tell him," I ask through my tears, not willing to hear the answer before I turn and make my way to his room. As I turn to head up the stairs I see him sitting at the top, clearly listening in on everything we have been saying. When I reach him he stands up and leads us to his bedroom. We don't say anything to each other as we enter his room and shut the door behind us. I remain standing awkwardly near his door as he paces back and forth slowly.
