Starless stepped out of the pawn shop, coins light in his pocket. The street buzzed around him, alive and sharp. He tilted his head up.
A massive billboard stretched across the sky, bright enough to hurt. Awakeners flashed across it, symbols rotating in gold and blue. Flying cars slid past in clean arcs, engines humming softly, trails of light stitching the air together. The city looked untouchable from below.
He turned away and slipped into an older street. The lights dimmed. The buildings grew narrower, wires hanging low, neon signs flickering instead of glowing.
A shop door slid open ahead of him. Two women stepped out, well-dressed, laughing softly. Their daughters followed, small hands sticky with melting ice cream. The sweetness smelled out of place here.
They noticed him.
Their smiles faded, eyes lingering on his dirty coat, his worn shoes, the dust on his skin. Pity settled in their gaze, heavy and uncomfortable.
One of the children pointed.
"Why does he look like that? Mom… is that a beggar?."
The woman stiffened. Her face flushed. She pinched the girl's arm lightly and hurried her toward the car. "Don't say that," she whispered sharply.
The vehicle waiting for them was sleek and expensive, black glass and silver trim, doors opening upward in silence. The children were pushed inside quickly.
The woman turned back, flustered. "I'm sorry," she said, avoiding his eyes. She pressed a few bills into his hand. "Truly."
Starless took them. He lifted his head and forced a smile.
"No problem," he said.
The car lifted smoothly into the air, lights fading as it joined the flow above.
Starless stood alone in the older street, his smile disappearing the moment the sound was gone.
Starless stood there until the street swallowed the silence.
Above him, the billboard shifted—new Awakeners, new smiles.
None of them ever looked down.
Starless walked forward, deeper into the older street.
A small shop glowed ahead, its sign flickering weakly. He stepped inside.
Glass cases lined the walls. Watches of all kinds rested behind glass. Digital. Analog. Cracked. Polished. Cheap. Expensive. Time trapped and waiting.
He stared for a long moment, then pointed. A simple one. Black strap. Nothing fancy.
He paid, slid it onto his wrist. The weight felt strange. Real.
Before leaving, he grabbed a magazine from a rack near the door. Old print. Folded corners. He tucked it under his arm and stepped back into the night.
City lights faded. Neon thinned. Sound dulled. Darkness grew heavier with each step.
The dumpsite welcomed him with silence and rot. No lights. Only shadows and distant metal shifting in the wind.
He climbed toward his shelter, pulling himself up carefully. The trash bag roof fluttered as he lifted it.
Then he froze.
Someone was inside.
A woman sat on his cardboard bed. White hair soaked dark with blood. Her breathing was shallow, ragged, almost a whisper in the silence. Her body slumped, barely holding itself upright.
Starless didn't move. Not yet. Fear prickled his skin. Who… who did this?
The night closed in around them.
Starless froze, heart pounding.
"Who the fuck are you? Why are you in my house?" he shouted, voice echoing across the small shelter.
The woman's lips trembled. "Please… help…"
Her body slumped, and she fell unconscious against the cardboard bed.
Starless cursed under his breath. He grabbed a rag, dipped it in a puddle of water, and began cleaning the blood from her wounds. Each movement careful, deliberate.
As he worked, his mind betrayed him. She was… beautiful. Her pale hair, her sharp features, the curve of her face. Desire and confusion stirred inside him.
Can I… should I…? he thought, heart hammering. No. This isn't right. This isn't about me. This is about doing the right thing even when no one's watching.
He shook his head, forcing the urge away.
Instead, he focused entirely on her. Tearing scraps of cloth to bandage, pressing gently to stop bleeding. Every thought outside her safety was pushed aside.
He breathed, slow and steady. I'll protect her. That's enough.
Starless looked down at her again. His mind still raced, but his hands stayed steady, acting only on the one thing that mattered—keeping her alive.
Starless stepped outside, the night air biting through his soaked coat.
His legs felt heavy, every movement sluggish, like walking through mud.
He scanned the ground, searching for a piece of cardboard, anything to patch the shelter or cover the floor.
Hands trembling, he bent down, lifting scraps of damp paper and torn boxes.
Each piece he carried was a small weight, but combined with exhaustion, it felt like the world itself pressed on his shoulders.
He paused, leaning against a rusted metal bin, gasping softly, sweat mixing with rain and grime.
Even in the quiet, the city's hum reached him faintly, reminding him of the life he was so far from.
Slowly, he gathered enough, dragging the cardboard back toward his small home, each step a test of his fading strength.
Starless stepped inside, setting the cardboard down carefully.
The woman stirred, eyes blinking open.
"Hi," Starless said softly, trying to keep his voice calm. "I'm Starless… call me Star."
He crouched slightly, keeping a safe distance. "I patched your wounds up. You're going to be fine."
She shifted, wary, watching him without trust.
Starless tilted his head. "Well… hmm… tell me your name."
The woman's lips pressed into a thin line. Her eyes darted away.
"It's… classified," she said quietly, her voice guarded.
The woman pulled a cigarette from a small pack and lit it, smoke curling up between them.
Starless just stared, silent, watching the thin stream of smoke drift.
"Things don't come cheap, you know," he said finally, voice low.
"Pay me for fixing you up," he added, trying to sound serious.
The woman raised an eyebrow, exhaling slowly. "How much for the treatment, kid?"
Starless' face flushed. He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. "Three… three thousand," he muttered, voice barely steady.
The woman laughed, low and mocking. "Don't push it, kid. I don't have that much."
Starless let out a long, weary sigh.
"I'm tired… so what's your plan?" he asked, voice heavy. "Are you leaving or staying?"
The woman's eyes flicked to the shadows outside. "I'm leaving," she said quietly. "But I won't forget this, kid. I'll give you something… soon."
He nodded once, wordless, then lowered himself onto his cardboard bed.
He shrugged off the large, soaked raincoat, folding it roughly beside him, and let his body sink into the thin padding. Sleep came quickly, heavy and unrelenting.
Outside, the woman disappeared into the deeper alleys of the dumpsite, moving swiftly through the darkness, shadows swallowing her as she ran.