number 12. (l.s.)

Chapter 4.

F O U R
-alone-

After the game, Jack brought Louis home again. It was around 12 and he'd found a little note on the table which said:

We're already to bed. We'll see you tomorrow.

Louis immediately went to bed. He was tired, he couldn't even remember the last time he had a day like that. With other people, not just himself—it was an actual amusing day for him, but also a bit confusing.

He couldn't say he didn't like that change of his life, but it did scare him. What if it all went away in just a few seconds? He knew it would eventually. Just a matter of time.

Even though he had been in this situation many times before, still, every time was awkward to him. It would be the first weekend, the first two free days with his new foster family. He was always unsure what to do.

It was then 11 am. Louis usually went out of bed around eleven or twelve. He didn't feel like going down yet, so he was planning staying in his room for a little longer. Louis wandered to his desk and took place on the chair. He grabbed his sketchbook and a pencil and just started drawing, without a certain image in front of him what he was going to draw. He was lost in his head as he drew quick, not knowing what he actually was drawing. His hand moved fast over the paper, and his eyes didn't scan the paper to actually know what he was sketching.

Louis didn't know how long he had been drawing, but after a while he sat back in his chair, his hand cramping. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, but opened them after a while. He wondered what exactly he had drawn. He did know he had drawn like two or three pages. Louis took a look at the first page and didn't see immediately what it was, a lot of sketches through each other. It seemed like birds, perhaps butterflies. He flipped the page and it looked kind of colorful, even though it was only made of a gray pencil. It looked cheerful and happy, which caused Louis a small smile on his lips.

He flipped to the third, last page, of his just-made-sketches. A frown covered his face, and he was quite confused by the drawing. His eyes scanned every detail of the page as he began to trace the lines with the tips of his index finger. Louis heard soft knocks on his door.

"Louis, are you up? I made us all some breakfast,' Scarlett whispered, in case he was still asleep.

"Yeah, I'll be down in a bit,' Louis answered, while standing up from his chair. He was about to walk away, before giving one last glance at only one simple number written in the center of the paper.

Number 12.

Louis wandered into the kitchen where the delicious aroma of frying bacon made his stomach trumble. Scarlett looked up from where she was hovering over the hob. "Hi, good morning, I just finished. Shall we sit down at the table?" Scarlett asked and as Louis nodded, he walked to the dining table. When he came to the table, he saw Dan reading a newspaper. Louis silently sat down, he felt quite awkward.

"Hi, Louis,' Dan said, after he noticed him. He folded the paper and put it down next to him. Louis sat there already for about two minutes, but Dan hadn't seen him, because he was quite concentrated on the paper he was reading. It didn't matter to Louis though, he prefered not to talk.

He liked the silence.

"How was the game yesterday?" Dan asked, as Scarlett approached the table with bread and eggs.

"They won."

Scarlett smiled. "Have you been brought back home?" She asked.

Home.

The word stung in Louis' throat.

He never really knew what 'home' meant. Well, he knew what the exact definition was. The place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household; That was the exact definition. The thing is, he didn't really live somewhere permanently —also, he wasn't a member of a family or household.