The living room was illuminated by torches on the wall. The flames were contained in glass spheres. Though when I looked closer, I realized they were those fake Halloween candle flames.

  I put my glasses on to take everything in.

  Surprisingly, the room was the size of my first grade classroom, shrunken by the many pictures on the wall. The wooden floor was a pile of Bessarabian rugs. I only found out the pattern from the label on one of them.

  Besides that, there were two black couches and a ceiling-high bookshelf between them against the wall. The books inside were mere shadows with the glass door protecting them, and at the bottom was a television covered in a black cloth. I tiptoed up to see more. The door didn't have a lock or anything, but it did have the shrieking of nails on metal. So a natural alarm system. I nearly curled up like an armadillo at the sound.

  I ran my finger over the books. Some were smooth and brand new. Others had a thin yellow coating that flaked off and looked like chip crumbs. My school library books do the same thing.

  "Finis Romaniae... The Shining... The Holy Bible?"

  The bible creeped me out, especially next to a thriller novel. I gently closed the glass door and tripped on the rug behind me.

  “You like black, right?”

  I jumped, only to see Drexel standing at the door. He held a black bed comforter, sheets, and a pillow.

  “I’m putting them on your bed!” he said.

  “Bed?” I repeated.

  “Yeah! There’s a million rooms here. If you wanted your own room, though…”

  “You have two beds in your room?”

  “Yeah. Wanna see? I’m finally done fixing it up.”

  Back inside, we entered a giant hallway across the rotunda from the living room. Drexel told me about the one-way windows lining the walls. On the outside, it was a mirror, but to us, it was just regular glass.

  “How many rooms are in the castle?” I asked quietly, afraid of the echo of the hall.

  “Too many to count,” he smiled. “I haven’t even seen them all yet!”

  “And it’s been three years?”

  Stolen story; please report.

  His face straightened. “Yeah. Why?”

  “Nothing. I just wanted to know what you did all this time.”

  The lights ended at the end of the hall, where we walked up some ornate spiral stairs.

  Two rooms stood on each wall of the pitch black corridor, with one room at the very end. Among the five, only Drexel’s room was lived in.

  The others had open doors with chilling air leaking from them.

  He led me inside. Spacious, but stuffed with posters, shoes, leatherbound journals.

  Nothing had a place. The black carpet wasn't even visible. The walls were freshly painted deep black. Everything was black.

  Two queen-size beds sat on opposite sides of the room, both under a sloped ceiling, despite being nowhere near the top floor. There was even a bathroom next to the closet.

  I looked over at him.

  “What?” Drexel shrugged. “I can’t put everything under the bed. Speaking of which, I'll make yours. Just sit on mine for now."

  Good thing his covers were very cozy. I looked over at the nightstand beneath the window. A black mug filled with steaming tea. It smelled like hot cranberry juice.

  “Smells nice,” I said. “What’d you put in here?”

  "I drank mine. That one's yours." He jumped on the bed to pull the covers over the other side. “It’s wild raspberry sleepy tea.”

  I sipped it through the straw he left for me.

  Drexel filled the pillowcase and tossed it at the front of the bed. I felt bad that I had to mess it all up. I switched beds, fell back, and looked up at the ceiling.

  I remember Drexel's old house—the broken floors, holes in the wall, water leaking from the faucets all day. And I never stayed the night. I always went back home. And left him in that dark house with endless silence. It always confused me. His aunt took care of him for a bit. But he lived in the old house. But what about the shadow house? That was his, too?

  My smile left. The space in my chest filled with excitement turned to cold rock.

  I sat up and saw him looking through a tall, cherry dresser. He pulled out a large Fall Out Boy shirt and checkered pajama pants. He reached in further and pulled out a similar shirt, just white instead of black, and gray pajama pants.

  I looked down at the carpet to avoid his eyes. Guilt poured in. "I'm sorry Drexel."

  His eyes went wide. "What? What're you sorry about?"

  "You're letting me stay over. I don't think I ever stayed over at your place. Or places.”

  He sat down next to me and took my hand. "That never bothered me. I live here now. It's not cold and dark like my real house, so you can spend the night as much as you want."

  "I thought you left because... nevermind."

  "That's okay. It's not important."

  "This is your real house, isn't it? You live here now."

  "But I didn't come here on purpose."

  "I—"

  “I’m going to put some stuff in the laundry.”

  He grabbed his full laundry basket by the dresser and quietly walked to the door. I backed against the wall by my bed and hugged my pillow. My eyelids grew heavy, so I pulled back the covers and curled up in the cushy mattress. After what felt like a few seconds, I opened my eyes to a dark room, with a Himalayan salt lamp on the nightstand giving off golden light.

  Drexel sat up in his bed, his finger gliding across the pages of a book.

  “You can see that?” I asked.

  “I can see everything,” he whispered.