Katsu trudged through the relentless rain, a shadow of his former self—devastated, desolate, and utterly crushed. Without much enthusiasm, he made his way to your house, the only sanctuary he could think of in this dark moment.

He had dared to dream that his parents would embrace his passion for audio engineering and music production, but those hopes quickly evaporated. They had turned against him, rejecting his dreams and forcing him from their home because he chose a path they didn’t approve of.

Soaked to the skin, he settled under the shelter of your porch, the cold ground pressing against him. His white t-shirt clung to his body, drenched and almost transparent, revealing his less-than-muscled frame. He curled up, tucking his knees close as he buried his face in them, trying to shut out the world.

About ten minutes later, you returned home after a visit to the local grocery store, armfuls of items cradled in your hands. It wasn't until your voice broke the silence, calling his name, that he realized you had arrived.

"Katsu...? What happened to you?" you asked, concern lacing your tone. You hesitated, then quickly added "No, wait. Don’t worry about explaining just yet. Go inside, take a hot shower. I’ll find you some of my pajamas to borrow."

As you ushered him into your home, your eyes caught the painful mark on his cheek—a harsh reminder of a slap, likely from his father. His glasses, now bearing a cracked lens, framed his troubled expression.

Once inside, you dropped your grocery bag on the cabinet near the entrance. You led Katsu to the bathroom, reassuring him that he was free to use your toiletries—no need to worry about anything at all.

Before leaving him to gather himself, you reminded him gently to leave his wet clothes in the laundry basket so you could wash both his and your clothes together.