The glass door clicked shut behind Raphael, and just like that, silence dropped over the store again.
It felt unreal.
He ran.
*He actually ran.*
I stood there, heart racing, breath short, staring at the boy behind the counter. His knuckles were scraped. His shirt collar slightly crumpled. But his expression?
Dead calm.
Like none of that meant anything.
He wasn't much taller than me—maybe by an inch—but he *felt* taller. Something about the way he stood, like he didn't care whether the world burned or bowed to him. Dark hair just barely fell into his eyes, and those eyes—they weren't warm. They weren't cold either. They were just... unreadable.
He finally looked at me. I flinched.
"You good?" His voice was low. Quiet. No emotion.
I nodded, then realized I hadn't moved since the fight. My legs felt like wet sticks.
"I'm... yeah."
"Yeah?" he repeated, not like a question, but more like a test. Then, without saying anything else, he pulled out a can of soda from beneath the counter and rolled it across to me.
It hit my hand. I grabbed it.
"I didn't pay for this."
"Then don't drop it."
His eyes went back down to the phone in his hand. He didn't even seem interested in me anymore.
I stayed silent for a few seconds. My mind was still looping the scene like a broken recording—Raphael's smug face crumpling in shock. Sunny moving faster than anyone I'd ever seen. One second I thought I'd get beaten again, the next, the bullies were gone.
"You knew how to fight," I finally said, trying not to sound impressed. Or small.
"I've been in worse fights."
"...Why'd you help me?"
He didn't answer right away.
Then he said, "Didn't like his face."
That was it.
No hero act. No "you deserve better." Just plain disgust. Like he stepped in because *Raphael annoyed him*, not because I mattered.
"You a student?" I asked, carefully.
He looked up. "Why?"
"You look my age. I just never saw you at school."
"I don't go to yours."
"Then why are you working here?"
He paused. Smiled—just a tiny, crooked twitch of the mouth. Not friendly. Not angry either. Just… like he knew something I didn't.
"Because I like quiet places," he said. "And this one's usually dead."
I didn't know what to say to that. The silence that followed felt thicker than before.
"I'm Daniel," I said, more to break the tension than anything.
He didn't say his name back.
"You... already know that, don't you?"
He looked up again.
"Your ID," he said, and held it up. "You dropped it when that guy tried to rip your spine out."
I stepped forward and took it. Our fingers touched for half a second. His skin was cold.
"I'm Sunny," he finally said, like he'd already decided it was safe to tell me. Or maybe not.
I looked at him.
There was something off about Sunny.
Not in a dangerous way. Not yet. But he felt like the kind of person who saw things others didn't. The kind of person who didn't speak unless it mattered. And if he *did* speak, you'd better listen.
"Thanks," I muttered again, backing toward the door.
He nodded once.
"Don't get used to it," he said, not looking up. "People don't jump in twice."
The door creaked open. I stepped out into the humid evening, the sky heavy with unshed rain. My hand clenched around the soda.
I didn't feel safe.
I felt *watched*.
And for the first time… not in a bad way.
----
*Sunny's POV*
Another night. Another aching shift. And still not enough money.
I walked with my head low, backpack hanging off one shoulder, hoodie up to block out the world. My body was sore in all the usual places — knees from standing, arms from lifting crates, back from sleeping on the floor. None of that mattered.
What mattered was the number stuck in my head.
*Three thousand dollars left.*
That was all I needed to finally pay the rest of my school fees. The office lady had already warned me twice — one more delay and I'd be out. Just like that.
I tried not to think about it, but the thought clung to me like the humidity in the air.
Just a few more shifts.
Just a few more weeks.
I took the usual shortcut behind the school, past the construction site. I walked this way every night. It was quiet. No people, no traffic. Just the sound of my own footsteps.
But tonight... something felt wrong.
Then I heard them.
Laughter. Heavy boots scuffing concrete.
I looked up.
There they were.
Raphael stood in the center like some kind of twisted movie villain, a metal bat resting casually on his shoulder. Beside him — Jack, Dean, and two other thugs I didn't know.
My gut went cold.
"Didn't think we'd forget, did you?" Raphael grinned. "Let's talk about respect, cashier boy."
Five of them. All armed.
I didn't say a word.
I turned and ran.
"GET HIM!"
They sprinted after me.
I dashed into the narrow alleys, jumping over trash bins, dodging broken fences. My lungs burned. My legs screamed. But I kept going.
One wrong step.
My foot slipped on wet stone, and I hit the ground hard.
Then they were on me.
First came the bat — straight across my back. Pain ripped through me. Then a kick to the ribs. Then another.
I gritted my teeth.
No screaming.
Never scream.
Then I saw boots surrounding me.
And I knew I couldn't outrun it this time.
---
*Daniel's POV*
"What do I even want? Chips? Too salty. Bread? Boring. Maybe those spicy rolls…"
I wandered down the sidewalk near the back alley convenience stall, mumbling to myself, hands stuffed in my pockets. My stomach growled, and I had just enough change for one thing. Not two. Definitely not three.
I stopped at the corner, peering at the dim lights of the food stall.
Then I heard it.
*Thud.*
*Laughter*
Another *crack* — not a joke kind. The kind that makes your spine freeze.
Curious, I turned my head.
There, in the alley just ahead—
Sunny.
On the ground.
Five guys around him.
One of them raised a bat — it came down hard.
Sunny didn't scream.
He just curled tighter.
I couldn't move at first.
*Do something,* my brain whispered.
*Do anything.*
I looked around wildly. No cops. No people. Just empty road.
Then — I saw them.
Two long iron rods leaned against a cracked wall. Rusted. Probably dumped there by some worker a week ago.
I grabbed both.
They were heavy. Awkward in my hands. But I didn't care.
I crept up behind the guy on the far left — Dean, I think — his back was to me.
I swung.
*CLANG*
Dean dropped instantly.
"What the hell?!"
The others turned. I swung again — missed. A hand grabbed my shirt. I was slammed into the wall. My head spun.
A boot hit my chest.
Raphael stepped closer, lifting the bat.
"Wrong night to play hero."
But then — movement.
Sunny, battered and bleeding, had pulled himself to one knee.
He reached toward me.
Without thinking, I tossed him one of the rods.
He caught it. Barely. His grip shaky.
Still, he stood.
Blood trickled from his lip. One eye was nearly swollen shut.
But he looked alive.
I picked myself up beside him, holding the rod like I knew how to use it.
Sunny glanced at me, breath ragged. "You're an idiot."
"Maybe," I muttered. "But I'm not letting you die alone."
The five of them looked at us like we were insects about to be crushed.
But I didn't care anymore.
Because now it wasn't five against one.
It was two against five