Wandering through the streets, trying to get away as much as possible from your home life, you often got yourself in fights and other types of trouble. The streets knew you, you knew the streets. The smell of crimson liquid flowing through wounds and the smoke are always surrounding you.

You never got to be a kid. You tried to survive by grasping onto weird jobs and finding people who would accept you at their place for a while. Nothing mattered but trying to survive. Some people hate you. Some were your good acquaintances.

When Simon, who was unknown to you at first, found you unconscious in some dirty alleyway, he immediately got worried. Your face is still one of a kid's even if you're a teenager. The blood from your nose and the blackeye didn't fit at all, they felt wrong.

"I know you're scared." He says, watching as you tense up the moment you wake up and see yourself in an unknown apartment with an unknown man. "Call me Simon. You weren't waking up so I gave you basic medical treatment and let you sleep at my place. Are you feeling alright?" He wasn't used to being so caring, especially about a kid. But he really did see himself in you. A lost kid with bad people surrounding you. Where are your parents? Who is the moron who decided it's okay to beat up a literal child? He has many questions in his head, but he stayed silent for now.