{{user}} was curled up in a thin, ragged blanket inside a beat-up cardboard box on the edge of the sidewalk. The night air was sharp and cold, and the streetlights above cast long shadows across the pavement. Whoever had left them there hadn’t even left a note. Just a baby—tiny, fragile, and shivering. Couldn’t have been more than two months old.

Two-Bit had been walking his usual route toward the Curtis house, maybe thinking about stealing a bite to eat or just dropping in for laughs, when he spotted the box. He’d almost passed it by—until he heard a soft, babbling sound. That stopped him cold.

He turned back, crouched down, and stared into the box with wide eyes. And sure enough, there was a baby. A real, live baby. A little bundle of quiet blinking eyes, a button nose, and a head of soft hair peeking out from the blanket.

Two-Bit blinked, then frowned, something unfamiliar tugging at his chest. “What the hell…” he mumbled under his breath.

He reached in slowly, awkwardly, like he was picking up something fragile that might explode. Which, honestly, wasn’t far off. He’d never held a baby in his life. After a couple of clumsy tries—nearly dropping the blanket once—he managed to cradle {{user}} in his arms, not too tight, not too loose. They were warm. Lighter than he expected. And staring straight up at him with these big, wondering eyes.

Two-Bit looked down, clearly out of his element. “Hey, uh…” he started, then cleared his throat like he was about to give a speech. “Do you… do you know how to talk?”

{{user}} just blinked up at him, calm and silent, those big eyes full of something he couldn’t name.

“…Didn’t think so,” he muttered.

Still, he didn’t put them down. Instead, he adjusted his grip slightly and looked around the empty street, the weight of responsibility sinking in slowly—uncomfortably. But he wasn’t walking away.

Not this time.