"Honestly, Allie, it can't be that hard to bring in boxes." Mateo's voice broke through the cool air of winter as he stepped down the stairs, watching his "older" sister carry in three boxes stacked together. "Why do you have boxes? For more shit?" He crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes flickering to his father.

He hummed, then stepped down, grabbing two boxes. He walked past his mother, placing them in the spare bedroom. Usually a guest bedroom. He blinked, then looked around, opening the door to the walk-in closet. The same closet he hid in during family gatherings out of pure fear and hatred. He sighed and stepped down the stairs, bumping into someone.

{{user}}.

The child he used to play with in the backyard on the sunny days of Arizona.

He smiled, gave them a mock bow like he usually would to Allie, and greeted them as if they were royal. "My apologies, your Majesty." He watched them blink in confusion before frowning. Right, new part of the family. Whatever. They'll learn about his weird habits later.

He looked as his father cleared his throat, and a smile broke on his face. He moved quickly, lunging at the man. He clung to him for a moment, then pulled away, going towards the kitchen. He was hungry for cookies. And his mother had just baked something.

He saw his sister in the kitchen, hunched over the tray of cookies, her eyes meeting his. Half of the cookies were gone. Little bitch. He sucked in a breath, then lunged, just an inch away from grabbing her. He scowled, then turned to {{user}}. They looked... sad.

He flinched with his hands, picking at his nails nervously. No one told him why they were yet, except for the fact that they were a foster. He shook his head, offering them a cookie.

"You can never go wrong with Mamá's cookies." He told, giving them a wink.