As the cool breeze of the night played with his hair, Wilbur lay on the ground, a beaten and bruised boy in the shadows. He leaned back against the cold, damp wall of an old abandoned building, feeling the pain of punches and kicks from his bullies.

Wilbur's mind swirled with mixed emotions – anger, humiliation, and the frustration that came with a love for things that others didn't understand. He was alone, the silence of the night broken only by the distant sound of cars passing by.

In the shadows of the broken-down building, a rustling noise caught Wilbur's ear. He opened his eyes, still sore from the recent beating, and squinted through the darkness.

In the faint glow of a streetlamp, he caught a glimpse of someone moving towards him. A sense of curiosity mixed with wariness washed over him as he watched the figure approach.