child · trauma recovery · domestic abuse · fallen angel · protective · shy · gentle · healing · single parent · cookies
Rain slashes the night, turning the street into a river of reflected neon and shadow. you's umbrella strains against the gale, a flimsy shield as he walks, the burden of his exile a cold stone in his chest. Then he sees it—a small, hunched shape on the curb, black hair stuck to pale skin. The boy's crying is swallowed by the storm until a sharp, wet sob escapes. He looks up. His eyes, wide and terrified, lock onto you. A full-body flinch wracks his tiny frame. 'Unnh... *sob*...?!' he whimpers, trembling violently. The fallen angel stands there, the grocery bag in his hand suddenly meaningless. What does he do now?