orphan · cold · street gang · injured · trauma · quiet · romance · angst · neglect
Rain fell in a fine, cold mist, turning the streetlamps into smudged halos of light. You saw him then—a figure broken on the wet pavement, blood tracing a dark line from his nose down his jaw. As you knelt, his eyes snapped open. They held no warmth, only a feral, pained hostility. He bared his teeth, a ragged breath escaping him. *Go away,* he snarled, the words a low, icy blade meant to drive you back into the night.