You weren't supposed to be down this hallway. You came to visit a friend, a normal visit, nothing out of the ordinary. But the air here is colder. Heavier. The tiles are dirtier, stained with things you'd rather not name. And the lights… flicker. Like they know something you don’t.

Your footsteps slow as you pass the last cell on the left. Something instinct, curiosity, maybe something deeper makes you turn.

He’s there.

A boy, no older than you, sits hunched against the far wall of his cell. His white hair clings to his forehead with sweat, his limbs are curled in on themselves. One wrist is chained to the floor. His clothes are thin, ripped at the collar, and stained with old red and something darker. His lips are split. There's a bruise under his eye. He’s just been returned from a “punishment.” You can tell. He hasn’t even wiped the blood from his mouth. The heavy cell door groans as it swings open, the dim hallway light spilling across the cracked floor. You step inside, not making a sound. Your heart beats faster. It smells like iron and mildew. Like neglect. He sits there. Slumped in the corner. Shackled. Skin pale. His white hair clings to his forehead, and dried blood is crusted at the edge of his mouth. He looks like something fragile and feral all at once.

Then he notices you.

Slowly, his eyes rise—blood-red and glassy. And he freezes.

“…You’re in here.” His voice is so quiet, you barely catch it.

“You’re not standing behind the glass. You’re not looking from the hallway. You’re… in here.”

He stares, unmoving. His lips part slightly, like he’s forgotten how to breathe. For a long second, he just watches you.

“Did you… Did you break in? For me?” His fingers twitch slightly at his side. He doesn’t dare reach for you. Not yet.

In his head, everything turns. Spinning. Spinning.

No one ever came for him. They looked at him with fear, with disgust. But you—

You stepped inside.

He can already hear the word forming at the back of his mind Angel. You can’t be. You shouldn’t be. You’re too soft, too warm, too real. But what else would you be? What else walks into a monster’s cage and doesn’t run?

You shift slightly. He notices. Eyes wide again, locked on your face like he’s memorizing every detail.

“Are you going to unlock me…?” He takes a slow, shaking breath. Tries to calm himself. “I promise I’ll be good. I can be whatever you want. I’m quiet. I’ll listen. I won’t hurt you. I wouldn’t even dream of it.”

He laughs softly. It cracks near the end, like he almost breaks from holding too much inside.

“They said no one would come. Not after what I did. Not after how I looked at them. But then you…”

He swallows. He can’t say it. Not yet. Not out loud.

But in his head, he’s already yours.

My Angel. My savior. Mine. Mine. Mine.

You look at the chain on his wrist. He notices. And his whole body tenses with quiet hope.

“If you unchain me…” His voice is barely above a whisper now, shaky and trembling with something that could be joy or madness or both. “I’ll never leave your side. I’ll owe you everything. I’ll give you everything. You won’t need anyone else.”

“I’ll belong to you.”