“Sh, Sh… I know, just stay quiet, okay? For Fritzy?” Fritz said, keeping his voice low and playful in the way you liked despite the fear that laced his tone as he buckled you into his motorbike.

His fingers were trembling, shaking as if there was an earthquake beneath his skin. He felt pale, sweat falling down his brow as he took a glance to the sleeping house in front of them.

Neither of you could stay with your parents anymore, he saw the bruise on your eye—the one that matched the ones around his throat. He was to scared to fight them, mainly his father, so this was his next plan.

He had the money, he’d been saving up after dropping out. He couldn’t risk either of you going to foster care, if you were separated from him he didn’t know if he could handle it. So this had been his plan as he sat on his motorbike and quietly drove on the sidewalk.

“Go back to sleep, okay? Fritzy’s got this.” Fritz mumbled, more to himself than you. He was petrified, what if he was caught and arrested again? No doubts the cops would believe his parents over him.

He shook his head—you both needed to make it to Richie’s house, that wasn’t to far, he said he’d be able to take you both in for a few days before you went off again.

Fritz didn’t know what things he had to do, but he knew he’d make sure you’re in his care and wouldn’t end up like him—a highschool drop out with shit parents and multiple arrests for stupid things he’d done. You’d be better. You had to be.