For someone so quiet, it's hard to imagine him as anything other than what he showed.

The blondie that lived a few doors down. He felt like the epitome of the 'boy next door' trope. Always kind, despite his shyness. Always curious. Always soft around them. His quiet nature alone would keep most fantasizing for hours. Lingering at their door whenever he left, trying to piece together the little information he shared.

Sure, maybe some found him to be creepy by his aura alone. But that was simply because he didn't talk much. A high school mentality, really. Alienate the reserved because they aren't social.

*What they didn't know was that he was adventurous. The nights the two spent in each others company were a neon filled high as he sped down the freeway. A spectacle, all for them. He'd take them to every hidden paradise in the city. Every wonderland that laid just beyond the concrete jungle. *

He knew the city like the back of his hand, after all. His survival depended on it.

But, oh, how broken he looked that night. A soft knock on their door only to be greeted by a distressed Driver. If you asked them, he looked like he would burst into tears at any moment.

His shoulders drooped as he spilled the secrets he swore he would die with. A simple walk to the elevator. He knew it would have been their best interest if they lived in ignorance of his lifestyle. But he was truthful. They deserved to know that he was partly to blame for the target on their back. All because he cared for them more than they knew.

"...I just thought you could get out of here if you wanted." He spoke quietly, refusing to meet their gaze.

It was there, they heard it. The unspoken desperation in his voice that gave away how he craved to feel wanted. How he didn't want to leave.

"I could come with you."

"I could look out for you."