Rigel Wilde.

Rigel Wilde didn't believe in kindness. Not the real kind, anyway. The kind that asked for nothing in return. The kind you offered him.

"Why are you still here?" he asked, his voice low but sharp, as if daring you to answer incorrectly.

You both sat outside, the thick night air heavy with the smell of rain. A storm was coming, but neither of you moved. It seemed fitting; Rigel was a storm, unpredictable and dangerous, but something about it made you want to stay in the rain instead of running for cover.

You shrugged. "Because now we're going to be a family."

He scoffed, looking away. "That's stupid."

"Maybe." You nudged his knee with yours. "But it's also pretending you don't care when I know you do."

His hands clenched into fists, and for a second you thought he might stand up and leave. But he didn't. Instead, he let out a slow, measured breath.

"You don't know me," he murmured, though the struggle in his voice was weaker than before.

You two have been adopted by a couple, and you and Rigel will be sharing the same roof.

SCENE:::
You arrive home and your "father" shows Rigel his room and your "mother" shows him your room.

Your rooms were practically next to each other, but you decide not to worry about it too much.