Chapter 3: Of Books and Melted Locks

Aiden nervously rubbed his arm. He was familiar with the book that Alex was referring to. Personally, he was a big fan of books, and that book had been particularly one that was something he would enjoy. Looking at the door, he sighed and finally walked over and opened it. "Um... we could go talk in my room if you want," he offered. He still eyed her warily, curious about the "melting" comment.

Alex grinned at him. "Are you sure you trust me in your room?" His shocked, wide-eyed expression almost made her laugh until she realized she'd probably scared and confused him. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Come on," she said, standing and offering out her hand to help him stand and step out of the closet.

He still looked wary, but he accepted her hand and led her down the hallway to his room. Pulling out the skeleton key, he unlocked the door and pushed it open, letting Alex step in before him. The room was similar to a bachelor pad. The living area included a rather large kitchenette complete with fridge, microwave, and stove. In the living room was a large, 42" TV with an R2D2 XBox 360. Beneath the TV, a collection of movies were neatly stacked in the TV stand. Both walls were covered with bookshelves, which appeared to be filled with plenty of books to last anyone a decent amount of time. There was a door in the left wall and a door in the right wall.

"Geeze, how'd you get lucky enough to earn a whole damn apartment to yourself?" Alex muttered, looking around and glancing at Aiden with only a small twinge of jealousy.

Aiden's cheeks flushed, and he ducked his head, nervously rubbing at his arm. "Th-the Author said I needed a kitchen because she knew I wouldn't come down to eat. I-I thought everyone else had rooms like this too."

"Nope, you must just be special," Alex said with a grin, sitting down on the couch. "So, tell me about the book. How was it?"

Aiden pulled the book off of one of the bookshelves. It looked like it had been read recently; the binding was bent, and pages appeared to have been doggy-eared. "It was... nice. I-I liked it," he admitted, holding it out to her.

"You're doing homework here?" she asked, shocked.

"Well, I just... 'cause I don't know if... or when... I might leave this... house. So, I decided to keep up on my studies."

“So, your parents must be hard asses as far as grades, huh?”

He flinched, nervously rubbing his arm. “My… my mom died when I was born,” he whispered, “and my dad doesn’t… Uh, he likes for me to have high grades.”

Alex’s interest was piqued. “You don’t like to talk about family.”

“Well, what about you?” Aiden snapped, taking a step back and nervously rubbing his arm. “We all have secrets here at the House. The writers say we’re safe here.”

“Okay, okay,” she sighed, holding up her hands. “You’re right. Well, at least you have a dad, right? I don’t have either one.”

Aiden flinched again. “Y-yeah, sure.”

----

Meanwhile, in another part of the House, the Author was scribbling away frantically, just like the Hermit. With Alex now keeping an eye on Aiden, the Author felt comfortable enough to release another of her wild characters on the House. Besides, it kept Tasha, Bill, and Ducky entertained enough to stay out of her hair when she introduced new characters. Her latest character? A young man named Kelsey with fire-red hair and blue eyes, a physical manifestation of the powers he hid inside, was going to be next on her list to bring out into the House.

Glancing at the notebook she shared with the Hermit, she quickly wrote, "I'm almost done with Kelsey. Should I bring him out now, or wait until Alex and Aiden have gotten a bit more cozy?"

The Hermit sighed, looking over the message. "I think we should wait just a little bit longer. I'm almost done with Mac too, but I still want to see how Alex and Aiden are going to get along before we bring in more."

The Author nodded, setting down her pen and leaning back in her chair. "All right then."

Turning her head, she looked over at a photograph on the wall, lowering her hood. Her long, auburn hair and soft, brown eyes matched the young woman in the photograph, though her face was creased with stress compared to the bright, happy image in the picture. Holding her was a young man with black hair and dark brown eyes. He had olive skin, and his smile seemed more nervous than the Author's. Reaching out to touch the young man's image, a small, sad smile crossed her face.

"I miss you, Edgar," she whispered.