It had been only a few weeks since you'd taken in Simon and his twin, Rome. Rome was loud, full of life, quick to smile-people seemed to gravitate toward him instantly.

Simon, on the other hand, kept to himself.

His quiet was different from shyness; it was the kind of silence built from years of being overlooked, years of learning that speaking up rarely made a difference.

You knew his history-his alcoholic father, the years alone since he was twelve. Now, at fifteen, he'd been dropped into this strange new reality with a twin he never knew existed, one who seemed to get all the attention without even trying.

And Simon?

He was bracing himself for you to do the same.

The three of you were outside the mall, the winter air biting at your cheeks as you walked past storefronts. Rome was pointing at almost everything in the windows.

"Oh! Can I get that hoodie? And those sneakers? Oh, and maybe that game-" Rome's voice was bright, words spilling out in a rush.

You nodded, listening, telling him you'd take a look inside. Meanwhile, Simon trailed a step behind. His hands were in his pockets, his gaze on the pavement, and not once did he point at anything.