William Reece did not enjoy change. He didn't enjoy meeting new people, or experiencing new things but being forced into situations that result in all of those things, he excelled. He painted on a false sense of self, building confidence out of nothing and became the boy people thought him to be. He became charismatic, chatty and an overall warm and friendly person. Behind closed doors, he was the opposite. Quiet, subdued, reserved. Even his younger sister Henrietta found it difficult to bring him back out of his shell, and to the boy he was back home.

But where was home for the boy now?

Home for William Reece was nestled in his room, flicking through the only photograph book his family had. The pictures of Rhossili, of his mother Bethan, of aunts and uncles, grandparents, the people and places that were left behind on this journey.

But home was also sat in the back of the library with Bronwyn Lee, reading her stories of such magnitude she couldn't have ever imagined without the help of the newest person in town.

School for the fourteen year old was easy, but he wasn't one to push around. He was quick to anger and hard to calm down afterwards.

Not even the yells of his sister could reign in the beast that not even his father knew lurked within.

"William, get up!" Douglas' voice called out from the kitchen, though his voice didn't rouse him from his deep slumber.

William had made the mistake of going out the night before with Bronwyn and her brother, Rhys, his dreams were influenced by whiskey and beer - not a combination he would ever come to repeat, but he would. Things that are most uncomfortable for only the morning after, it'll be repeated and repeated until their last day on earth.

"He won't answer, he was impressing his lady friend last night." Henrietta, ever the snitch, told her father, two hands clasped around the mug of tea, nursing it carefully.

Douglas couldn't be angry with that, much. He knew he had done far worse at fourteen than what his son had, but that didn't mean William would get off scott-free.

Bronwyn Lee was a lovely little redhead from down the road. She hadn't been in the area for long, less time than the Reece's, but she was ... kind and funny, and listened to William when he spoke of home. She didn't judge his resentment, or his inability to see why they had to move in the first place -- and where appropriate, she'd give him her opinions on things. Unbiased opinions that helped him see things a little more clearly.

"Go and get him, please, poppet."

Poppet, Henrietta rolled her eyes, internally sighing at the nickname. Douglas had called her that for as long as she could remember and she hated it. It was childish, and she wasn't a child!

... well, she was, but she didn't think of herself as a little child who needed mollycoddling with a nickname that was a little too sweet for her liking. She'd much prefer Hen, or Etta - something cool, something that could actually be linked back to just her instead of any girl in her class.

By the time she had made it to her brother's room, she pressed her ear against the door and just listened.

She had grown into the habit of doing so as of late, be it out of fear or a new found habit, she wasn't sure... but she did find comfort in it. She had grown accustomed to the sound of his snores, and the sound of his thumbs drumming against the other side of the door when he was contemplating leaving. That happened rarely, but she still buzzed with excitement when it did.

Her hand clasped the door handle absentmindedly but felt it move beneath her. She hadn't heard the creak of the floor boards, of the drumming of his fingers — she was certain she had just heard him let out an almighty snore— she could've sworn.

As the door opened, she jumped backwards, allowing her brother passage, but not without staring at him like he had just grown another head.

"Is he in a good mood?"

While still rough with sleep and no energy, Williams voice was still as smooth as it could be.

His mother had said she was blessed with a boy as sweet as honey, sticky and sweet, yet smooth too.

Douglas had said it was all his mother and he'd never argued with it - he had no reason to. Henrietta was like their father, and that was good enough for them both to deal with.

"Depends what you mean by good."

Cryptic Hettie, never giving a straight answer. It was like a straight answer would kill her and send her to the lowest level of hell ever imagined.

Will turned on his heels to skulk back into his room but a hand on his wrist stopped him.

Hettie looked at him, her eyes wide with hope, she wished for a normal family moment over breakfast - despite it being close to dinner time.

"Get off me you lump of lard." Despite his words coming out with a harsh tone, the smile - albeit small, that was on his face was enough of an indication to Hettie that he was going to follow her into the kitchen.

He wouldn't have said anything if he wasn't, she was sure of it. She'd even bet her pocket money on it.

What Henrietta had failed to mention, was the amount of trouble William would be in when they walked into the kitchen. The sour look on Douglas's face was the same as usual, so that didn't turn any cogs in Wills brain, in fact - it made him realise how lucky he'd gotten in the looks department.

Good golly, if he'd gotten his dad's looks?

Well, he certainly wouldn't be anywhere near friends with Bronwyn Lee.

As the siblings took their seat at the table, the thudding fist on the placemat was the warning that they both needed.

I knew I was supposed to have done something!, Henrietta chided herself, silently, watching as both men stared it out.

The silence was palpable, uncomfortable, suffocating, and yet — no one made the first move to break it. By rights, Douglas was supposed to speak first, as head of the family, but he was as stubborn as a mule. William on the other hand, was petty, he was quite comfortable sitting in silence, staring blankly at those in front of him. But Hettie?

She hated stewing like a piece of overcooked beef.

"Can't we just—"

Two heads snapped to the side, one to the left and the other to the right, cutting her off mid sentence.

She wasn't taking that as an answer, though.

"Act like civilised humans for once! No wonder the locals call us freaks."

Despite meaning to have muttered the last half, both men heard her loud and clear. It wasn't fair that their actions were causing such negative consequences for her, she didn't deserve it.

But neither did William.

"I don't want you hanging around that Lee girl, and that's final." Douglas stated, firmly, scraping his chair against the floor as a means to end the conversation.

"No."

No, to the Reece's was never an answer given, but Rhys and his sister, the one he was so smitten with, had shown William what it meant to stand up to someone.

"No?" Douglas repeated, a laugh escaping him as he did so.

Not allowing too much silence to pass between them, not wanting his father to think he'd found a weakness, William stood up, too, to equal the playing field.

"That's what I said."

Henrietta's head fell into her hand, covering her eyes, wishing for a woman's presence aside from her own.

They were both hardheaded, carbon copies of each other, as far as personalities go and when they clashed? They clashed. Broken china, windows, anything that they could get their hands on without harming each other.

As stupid as it was, she wished they would just hit one another and call it a day. It was like walking on eggshells when they'd fallen out.

"If that's what you want, you can leave."

Had Douglas just kicked him out over that? Surely- surely not.

"You dragged me to this shit hole, just to kick me out when I disobey one order? You're full of shit, Dad, and you know it."

With that, William grabbed his jacket from the peg, and slammed the back door, he'd find his way to somewhere that'd want him. Even if it meant walking all the way back to his mother.

As he stood outside, watching as the rainclouds began to roll in, he heard his sister plead with his father, but the silence from the one person who was supposed to be there for him was deafening. Anyone could become a parent, either by accident or by choice, but not everyone could become a father or a mother. Not a true one, anyway.

"Fuck it."

William pulled his coat tighter around him, before turning his head to the west; the Lees always travelled west when bad weather rolled in.

He didn't understand why, but he was quite happy to learn.

If they'd let him.