Wander Boy

"What's your name?"

The question came off odd sounding to the Wander Boy for several reasons. He had been to this deminsion a few times before, he was sure of it. In his seventeen years of wandering through dimensions, he had re-visited a few of them. It was hard not to see a few repeats. The universe was infinite, sure, but some dimensions were bigger and had more of a grip than some of the others. The question caught him off guard because he had not heard another voice in a such a long time, years perhaps. The Wander boy couldn't be sure. He had no preception of time.

He dared not turn to the voice, not yet anyway. Instead, he gathered his wits about him and scanned his surrounding. He was in a sitting position atop the softest material he'd ever sat upon. There were only a few things in this space that the poor boy recognized. There was a chair pushed close to a large wooden contraption with four legs and a large flat top. Along the walls were large pieces of paper imprinted with the images of words or people. Near his foot laid a silver rectangle that was connected to a smaller white rectangle on the wall by a long black cord.

The Wander Boy felt something catch in his chest and he held back a sigh. This world was so unfamiliar to him, though he'd visited it once or twice before now. Additionally, this had been his birthplace. This was the deminision that had spawned him and yet he had no part of it. He did not live here. Perhaps that was what he was feeling. Not unfamiliarity but rather longing and hope. He wished this place to be his home, but he knew it could never be. He gritted his teeth and harshly pushed his feelings far away from him, turning slowly to meet the voice.

It was a female, a girl. She was tall with pale skin that was littered with tiny brown specks. Her hair was long and flowed down her neck and over shoulders and was the color of a dying flame. Her eyes were large and exceptionally green. She seemed to have an odd grace about her, something foreign and non-human. Something that was both awkward and beautiful all at once. She held the gaze of the Wander Boy for a moment before she flashed him a smile.

The Wander Boy was taken aback. Even he knew that the girl should be terrified. He had appeared out of thin air -had he not?- and intruded upon her own personal domain? This space was her own and what right did he have to be there unexpected? She should have been frightened. Scared beyond belief. However, that was not the case. The girl with ginger hair just looked at him with an extreme case of curiousity.

"My name..." He started but his voice faded away. He raised a hand and pressed it to his throat. It had been a great while since he'd spoken aloud. "My name is Layne."

The Wander Boy, Layne, could not be completely sure that the name was his. For whatever reason, the name was the first that came to his head, though he'd never heard it before. He had never known he needed a name other than the Wander Boy, but when he'd been asked for his, a name had surfaced- and he had taken it. He only had a quick second to think it over and with a mental shrug, he decided he liked the name.

The girl said nothing else for a moment, but moved aside in her bed. The bed was large enough for two people to sleep side by side with two pillows each to themselves. She patted the right side of the bed slowly, as if not trying to frighten the Wander Boy. He narrowed his eyes at her, ready to question her but it was she who spoke first. "You must be tired, sleep. You may share my bed, if that's fine with you."

Her voice was sot, gentle- inviting. He crossed the distance of the bed by crawling over the blankets and sitting beside the girl. She smiled as she drew the covers back and he silently laid himself down, resting his head against the pillows. He grabbed the blanket and held it close to him. He'd never been so comfortable. He smiled, closing his eyes. The girl had been right. He was extremely tired. But instead of drifting off to sleep, he looked up at her with eyes just as curious as her own. "What is your name?"

"Iliana." Her voice was steady and quiet.

"How can I repay you, Iliana?" He asked. He tilted his head in her direction, the pillow cold against his cheek. He closed his eyes lazily.

"You can pay me in answers, when you wake," she said as she laid down as well. She placed a hand against his chest caustiously, but he did not budge. Her touch was warm and soft. Her touch did not make him feel curious in the least nor did he feel uncomfortable or alone. It was if her the touch of her hand had brought him solace and security- which were two thing he'd never had before.

He sighed tiredly and nodded, but in a tired dismay. He didn't have the heart to tell the wide-eyed girl that he may not be there when she awoke the next morning.