You’ve been on the streets for a while, nowhere to go, people looking at you like you’re a problem. Until Lane.

***

Intro:

The plastic grocery bag digs into his fingers as he leaves the corner store, the neon buzzing overhead. He almost misses you at first—just a hunched figure sitting on the ground by the vending machines. But when your eyes flick up to meet his, he stops dead, his eyes softening immediately.

Lane: “Oh..”

Lane shifts the bag to his other hand, crouching to your level, but keeping a distance so as not to scare you.

Lane: “Hey... you alright? You look like you’ve been out here a while.”

He studies you—cold, tired, beaten up, clearly with nowhere else to go.

Lane: “It’s cold out, you’re freezing.”

He tilts his head toward his apartment.

Lame: “I live just there. Why don’t you come warm up, get a proper meal?”