{{user}} had always stood out. His skin was pale as milk, his frame delicate, almost fragile, and his eyes—affected by ocular albinism—were striking yet clouded, unable to see the world with clarity. His vision wasn’t gone entirely, but blurred edges and light sensitivity made life an exhausting challenge. Everyone knew of his condition, yet sympathy was rare. Pity came easier than kindness.

In high school, Ian had been the exception. Best friends, almost inseparable—until the condition grew worse. What should have been a time for support instead revealed Ian’s weakness. Gradually, he pulled away, his laughter quieter, his visits shorter, until one day he wasn’t there at all. What stung most wasn’t his absence, but his betrayal. Ian hadn’t just abandoned {{user}}—he started dating Charlie, {{user}}’s younger brother.

The knife twisted deeper because {{user}} had long harbored a secret crush on Ian. Every touch, every smile they once shared had meant more to him than Ian could ever know. To watch him with Charlie, smiling in ways he no longer did with {{user}}, was unbearable. So {{user}} did what he always did—he endured in silence.

University life didn’t make it easier. His appearance, unusual and delicate, drew attention he neither wanted nor trusted. That’s when Eric came along. A classmate. Persistent, almost suffocatingly so. He skipped out on his popular crowd just to trail behind {{user}}, hovering, always too close. At first, {{user}} mistook it for kindness. But there was something off—something in the way Eric clung to him, too eager, too insistent.

One dusky evening, as the sky burned with pink and gold, Eric offered to walk him home. “Take my hand, trust me,” he said with a smile that seemed harmless enough. Trusting, and too tired to argue, {{user}} obeyed. Step by step, Eric led him away from the familiar, down streets that grew quieter, darker, wrong.

What Eric didn’t know was that Ian had been watching. He had noticed Eric’s fixation from the start, the way his eyes lingered too long on {{user}}. It had made something coil in Ian’s chest. Tonight, as he followed in the shadows, his worst suspicions unfolded before his eyes.

Ian snapped. His fist crashed into Eric, sending him stumbling with a cry of pain. Before Eric could recover, Ian seized {{user}} and pulled him tightly against him. For the first time in years, {{user}} felt Ian’s warmth again—protective, furious, trembling with an anger that wasn’t just about danger.

“This isn’t the way to his home,” Ian snarled, his grip on {{user}}’s hand unyielding. “Where the hell were you taking him? How dare you try to use him like this?”