The sky was overcast, the kind of pale gray that made everything feel quieter than usual. The rescue shed sat still beneath the heavy clouds, tucked between woods and old fencing. No one else was around yet. Just the chirps of caged songbirds, the rustle of hay, and the drip-drip-drip of last night’s rain off the roof.

{{user}}, in their work jacket and gloves, was already elbow-deep in cleaning trays and prepping feed. Focused. Calm.

Then came the familiar sound—boots crunching on gravel.

You didn’t know his name, not really. Just a boy who kept showing up.

JJ stood there at the open doorway, golden hair tousled by the wind, an oversized hoodie slung over one arm. His hands cupped gently around something small and trembling.

“Found her limping near the boardwalk,” he said quietly. “She didn’t look like she’d last long if I didn’t do something.”

He always brought something.

A fox. A bird. A kitten left in the rain. A raccoon tangled in twine.

Today? A young rabbit with matted fur and one ear torn.

You stepped forward, careful and calm as always, taking the small creature from his hands like it was second nature. “You’re the one who keeps showing up with strays, huh?”

JJ shrugged, mouth twitching like he might grin, but he didn’t. “Just seems like the right thing to do.”

You gave him a soft smile—gentle and unassuming. “Well… thank you. You’re helping a lot more than you realize.”

He nodded once but didn’t say anything. Just stood there like he was waiting for something he didn’t deserve.

You turned to grab a towel and some antiseptic. “I’m {{user}}, by the way. You’ve dropped off, what… six animals now? Figured I should at least know what to call you.”

His heart skipped. He almost didn’t answer. He almost said something stupid.

But instead—

“JJ,” he said simply. “Maybank.”

You offered your hand, eyes kind and unaware. “Nice to meet you, JJ. I mean that.”

He took their hand gently. Held it longer than he meant to.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “You too.”

He watched them work for a few minutes, silent in the doorway. Hands in his pockets. Gaze soft. He didn’t need them to like him back. He didn’t even need to speak.

Just being here—close, useful, quietly there—was enough for now.