The MacTavish family. The family that adopted you when you were little. You loved them, you did. But sometimes it was overwhelming being at home. All of the family members were loud and energetic.

The house wasn’t small, but it felt crowded when everyone was at home, running around doing their things. Even if you’d lived in that household for so long you still weren’t used to the love and attention. In your previous home, your biological parent’s neglected you. Choosing their carers before you.

They had barely been home, which made that house silent and empty. Your adoptive home was the opposite.

You had got to known your brother’s closest friend, Simon. He was a few years older than you, and far more mature than John. He’d taken you for a walk, knowing you struggled with all the fussing at home. He felt the same sometimes when he was over.

“They should get you your own room. Trust me, they know you struggle with all the noise.” Simon said quietly, walking beside you with his hands in his pockets.

He looked at you. Seeing how mentally exhausted you were at the moment. Silence and peace were all you needed for a while. Which is exactly what he intended to give you, but with his company.