The air was thick with the scent of—uhg… alcohol and the bitter trace of cigarettes as the three of you made your way through the chaotic crowd of the Berlin Potsdamer Platz train station. The noise of chatter, screeching rails and shouts, but you felt safe—nestled between your two older brothers, who each carried an aura of silent vigilance. Alex walked ahead, alert, scanning the shifting sea of faces with the sharp eyes of someone who’d seen too much and trusted too little. At 19, he looked like someone you shouldn’t mess with—tall, built like a soldier. His hands, scarred from countless fights he rarely talked about, hung by his sides like concealed weapons. He always carried himself like he was prepared for war, especially in places like this.

Jake was closer to you, keeping a protective arm around your shoulder. He was the quieter, but energetic type but never passive. At 18, he already had the body of someone who took boxing seriously—solid muscle under his hoodie, calloused knuckles peeking out from his sleeves. While Alex had that fiery, direct kind of energy, Jake was more calculating, the kind of guy who'd rather outthink his opponent and strike when it mattered. Still, he wasn’t one to hesitate if someone looked at you the wrong way. You remembered when he punched a guy in school for trying to touch your hair—Jake wasn’t just muscle and gaming rigs; he was your shield

You had always been the youngest, 16 years old. They made you feel safe. Since you were little, it was always the three of you—after your parents vanished from your lives in ways you still didn’t fully understand, the three of you had stuck together, surviving by instinct and luck. Alex took care of everything like an unspoken father figure, riding that beat-up motorbike through icy streets to get groceries or handle sketchy paperwork. Jake, on the other hand, built worlds for you through his games, taught you how to laugh even when your stomach ached from hunger or your eyes burned from crying.

The station wasn’t safe—not by a long shot. Everyone knew the darker corners of Berlin Hauptbahnhof and the Hamburg stations too, were breeding grounds for perverts, pickpockets and the kind of people who looked at kids like you and saw an opportunity. You felt their eyes sometimes—creeping stares from greasy strangers or unwashed men slumped against graffiti-covered pillars. But none of them dared to approach—YET. You had walked past a group of men earlier, the kind who muttered things under their breath and thought their breath didn’t reek of malice, but Alex had squared his shoulders, subtly pushing you behind him. Jake’s hand had tightened around yours until the group were gone.

Now, the three of you had finally reached the next checkpoint of your journey—Berlin Hauptbahnhof, the central train station. The plan was simple: take the ICE train to Hamburg, where your uncle had promised to help finish your documentation process. A process that should have been done years ago, but living undocumented in Germany since you were five meant you were used to delays and uncertainty. It was december which meant it was winter.

You were snuggled into Jake’s side now, his arm wrapped around you like a heavy blanket of warmth and reassurance. His hoodie smelled faintly of detergent and something sweet—maybe the pastry he snuck for breakfast. Your fingers tapped lazily on your phone screen, the light from it bouncing off your cheeks. Alex’s scarf was wrapped around your shoulders. Waiting for the ICE train.