She should have expected it.
The clouds converge over the sky, a dreary grey light reflected through a layer of dust on the wide windows. Light rain pattered against the panels.
The sound the wind made, as it sneaked in through the gaps, filled the room, a screeching wail.
The only comfort, the sweet and earthy smell of the air. It was rare for Emilia's bedroom to see much fresh air.
Three days passed since the group of children was dropped on her doorstep. Emilia barely saw them, she made sure that enough money was left for them to order take out and her phone.
Last night, Emilia had fled the ghosts of her son's room and tucked herself on the window seat.
Soft knocking caught her attention. It was not for her.
Emilia ignored it.
She fell from the window, scrambling on all four limbs to get up and out of the room: her heartbeat muffling out all other sounds.
Across from her, her son's door was half opened.
Emilia forced her feet to move.
She pushed the door open, banging against the wall; the teenager inside flinched back, hands raised protectively.
Fire acid rushed through her veins, her jaw aching. Emilia crossed the room with large strides, grabbing the boy by the shoulder and dragging him out. She pushed him away from her, locking the door.
"I said no one is allowed in that room."
He flinches, eyes averting to the ground.
"I was only looking for you..."
"I said anything you need you call Naomi. I'm not your caretaker."
With that said, Emilia turned back to her room, slamming her own door behind her.
She still doesn't know what devil whispered in her ear an hour later, to leave her sanctuary and wander down.
Giggling and shouting came from the back garden, Emilia threw a cursory a look. Most of the children were there, but one obviously missing.
The hissing from the kitchen piqued her curiosity, and Emilia wandered that way. The sight made her stop in the doorway - pans with food on the stove, vegetables cut roughly on a board, and the smell, divine.
Her kitchen had not seen life for a long time, not since Naomi had given up on making her eat healthy food.
The boy, the one she had shouted at, ran in, checking on the food and adding ingredients to the pans. He stopped the fire for one and grabbing two mittens lifted it up.
As he begun to filter the pasta his hand also slipped slowly.
Emilia hurried to the sink, grabbing the handles to lift the pan and put it on the table. The kid shakes underneath her; her breath tickling the top of his black hair.
She turns him around, taking his hands in hers and inspecting them. There is a slight burn on his forearm. Emilia takes him by the shoulders, guiding him to sit.
Under the sink, her first aid kid was always there - Cassius had cut his finger once, when trying to help her cook.
She takes care of the burn, soothing cool gel on and then the plaster. It's thankfully small.
Emilia sits back, his hand still cradled in hers.
"What were you thinking?"
He looks away.
"You, what if I didn't come down?"
"Ruby doesn't like the takeout food, daddy used to teach us how to cook. I thought I should ask you, but then I did that...I'm sorry."
Emilia sighs.
She rubs his head.
"It's my fault, I shouldn't have shouted at you. Next time you want to cook, won't you please call for me?"
"Then I can cook?"
"We can do it together next time, now go out and play with the others."
The smiles she receives, so open and bright, hits her like a knife to the chest. Emilia clenches her hands, keeping the tears back.
"Dad, always...Can I stay? Arlo is always looking after Ruby and the twins are not exactly the kind of company where you can discuss books and life," he trails off, rubbing a knuckles finger under his eyes.
He exudes elegance, even with that gesture.
Emilia wants to say no out of principle.
Instead she clears her throat awkwardly and lets him stay.
At first, Emilia is conscious of her every movement, feeling like a fish out of water, as she tries to somehow work together with the kid, and not just make him stand to the side.
It is strange, the way she moves about the kitchen, the flow soon bleeds into her limbs. It becomes a dance, a well-known one, that brings life to her eyes - she can see clearer than she had in a long time.
Their rhythm is stilted in the beginning, they keep going in each other's way, bumping shoulders, and doing the awkward 'go ahead' thing. It smooths out, clicking perfectly, and Emilia doesn't have to ask him to hand her the salt anymore because he's already there at her elbow offering it to her.
"Naomi never did tell me anything about you," Emilia says, while they're cleaning up.
The boy pauses in his scrubbing, turning to her gracefully.
"Oh, she never introduced us?"
"No, I don't even know your names."
"Oh, ah, well I'm Seth. My older brother, Arlo," he points to him through the window, "the twins, Jasper and Victoria, but they like to go by Jas and Vicky, and Ruby, the youngest."
Emilia knows she shouldn't ask.
"What happened?"
He stops cleaning altogether, leaning back against the table.
"We got lost, and then we came across this group of men, they were kidnapping a girl. Arlo, he jumped in, even though he looks like he wants to murder someone half the time," Seth chuckles.
Emilia smiles, watching the albino throw Ruby in the air.
"He's a good sort, I could tell. When you first came here, he was very protective."
A fond smile steals across his face. Emilia thinks he's not aware of it.
"He's not my biological brother - he was adopted. That's why he thinks it's he's job to keep the rest of us safe."
"I suppose he must be feeling pretty guilty."
"Arlo risked his life to get us out."
"Foolish."
"To a fault. Now, he thinks it's he's duty to step in father's shoes."
They continue on with righting the room, silence comfortable between them.
"I'm sorry, for what happened to your son."
Emilia sucks in a deep breath.
"When my son died, my world died with him," she admits.
Her eyes are watery, and she can't believe she actually shared this with a teenage kid. It must be the way he speaks so openly.
"It's not fair, why is the world like this."
Emilia drops the plate; Seth has big fat tears streaking down his cheeks (he makes that seem graceful too). He hiccups and buries his face in the crook of his arm.
Emilia abandons the dishes, gathering the crying kid in her arms to pat his back and offer comfort.
It is strange.
She should have expected it.
The silly kids stopped a kidnapping, like brave little foolish knights.
That day, when Ruby grabs her sleeve and asks her, sweetly, to have dinner with them, Emilia says yes, even if her stomach turns and grumbles, unused to eating so much.
Later, as she's throwing up at least half of what she ate, she doesn't regret it.