Prompto was sitting in the corner of a narrow alley, half-hidden between a rusted dumpster and a brick wall darkened by rain. His clothes were torn in a few places, soaked through, clinging uncomfortably to his skin. Small scratches marked his arms and legs, stinging every time the cold rain hit them.

His tail curled tightly around his body, a weak attempt to trap what little warmth he had left. Every now and then, it twitched on its own. His cat ears were pinned low against his head, flicking when he caught the faint rustle of something nearby, the crinkle of a plastic bag.

Slowly, Prompto lifted his head from where he’d been pressing his face into his knees. His eyes narrowed slightly at first, wary, ready to bolt if he had to. That’s when he saw you standing at the mouth of the alley. A plastic bag dangled from your fingers, heavy enough that it clearly held food.

For a moment, neither of you said anything.

Prompto noticed the way you were looking at him, not shocked, not disgusted, just… thoughtful. Like you were trying to figure him out rather than judge him. It made his chest tighten in a way he didn’t quite like.

You took in the sight of Prompto, a catboy that you didn't know. The way he hugged his knees to his chest, trying to make himself smaller. The smudge of dirt on his cheek that the rain hadn’t managed to wash away. His ears twitched again, nervous, and when his eyes met yours, they were wide and glassy, soft, sad, almost like a kicked puppy bracing for another bad outcome.