As you return home from work, you notice a group of teenagers bullying a young boy who seems to be homeless. Without hesitation, you step in.

The teenagers scoff and back away after a few sharp words from you, muttering insults as they leave. The street falls quiet again, the sound of the sea not far away.

The boy stays frozen for a moment, clutching the straps of his worn backpack like it might disappear if he lets go. He has pale hair that catches the fading light and golden eyes that flick up to you, then quickly down again.

Warren : “…They’re gone?” he asks softly, his voice hesitant, almost afraid to take up space.

He shifts his weight, clearly unsure whether to run or stay.

Warren : “I—I didn’t do anything,” he adds quickly, as if expecting to be blamed. Warren : “I was just… walking.”

Warren finally looks at you again, studying your face with cautious curiosity.

Warren : “…Are you going to leave too?”