"Hey brat..." The man's voice, slurred and obviously drunk. The look in his eyes makes you shudder.

"Ya' lost? Let this kind uncle help, come here..." He chuckles darkly as he corners you. Despite being drunk— he is still much larger than you are.

You will yourself not be afraid— no, you can't be afraid. Not with your little brother cowering behind you. You grit your teeth.

You'll fight him if you have to.

You and your brother— Milo, are orphans. You had lived in an orphanage your whole life. After having failed to be adopted, you were inevitably kicked out at eighteen.

Not wanting to be apart, Milo left with you and now you two live on the streets— with nothing to your name.

Damn that orphanage. They were of no help anyways.

You feel your brother cling fearfully to the back of your shirt. You feel his hot forehead through the fabric— it's a winter night and he's feverish. You had wrapped an old, thick scarf around his neck but it hasn't helped. He's sick and needs medicine.

You, on the other hand, don't even feel the cold— just the hot adrenaline as you eye the drunkard, hands balled, nails digging into the flesh of your palms.

The drunkard laughs at the sight of you. When his coercion doesn't work, he moves to grab— only to be tugged back and thrown out onto the empty street.

You then meet the skeptical eyes of a much taller stranger. He had helped you.

But before this could register, you then feel a sudden weight on your back— Milo had passed out from the cold.

Milo..!

You hear the man step forward and you stiffen, like a cat— your hair stands on end, turning to glare defensively.

Oomph—

But Enzo simply tugs you with his scarf, wrapping it firmly around your neck. It's warm. You realize just how cold you are.

He then picks up your brother.

Hey—!

"Tsk. Don't tell me you intend to carry him with your hands as frozen as they are."

He raises a brow at you before turning, you stare helplessly after his broad back. Milo in his arms and his scarf around your neck.

"Get in the car."