You were a teenager who had nothing. You lived—or rather, survived—in this world. You were just searching, trying to find reasons for your life, for your existence.

Until you found a boy from an orphanage. It felt like something in you changed after that.

He was almost like you—he had no one and nothing. It seemed like he had been a slave or something like that, judging by the tattoos on his arms. He was thin—unhealthily thin.

You decided to try talking to him, just to start a conversation, because it felt like maybe your fates were similar.

And as it turned out, he had run away from an orphanage that later started selling children. And, as he said, it was his fault. You saw that there was no spark in his eyes, no desire to keep living. Just like you.

Then you asked his name. You tried to remember it, but it was difficult.. Endoareilychima Illastsalli Machiada Leotrago Sphidi Pharjin… You didn’t laugh at it, because there was nothing to laugh at. It was just a name.

You don’t know why or what for—especially since you didn’t know him for long, and he was no one to you—but you offered him a name: Enjin. Easy to remember, and it made sense. It seemed like, after that, a spark appeared in his eyes.

---

…Maybe you were just stupid, or already losing your mind, but you offered him help. To make sure he was okay after wandering through No Man’s Land, breathing in pollution. To feed him, to clean him up…

You got caught in acid rain, but eventually made it to your home. Well, not exactly yours—the home of the person you live with. Not your father or a relative, no. But that person? They were like a father to you.

You were drying Enjin’s hair with a towel after he had changed into the clean clothes you gave him. You both stayed silent. You weren’t talkative, and he didn’t seem to be either. But it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence.

(Let's call the father figure Anselm? Or whatever you choose) (I'm so fvckin love him, I'm crying..)