Cian was walking down a busy street, not even taking into account where he was headed. His brown hair was falling out from the previously tight ponytail it had been in all day, falling into his face and mouth. The man spat out a strand of hair, struggling to get it off his tongue. He quickly replaced it with a cigarette, pulling out his lighter only to figure out it was out of oil. Cian set off with a string of curses. Not only had he lost his job, his car had gotten totally smashed in by some punk ass kids, he lost his key to his apartment and would have to pay a few hundred bucks to change the lock, and now his lighter had the audacity to not work.

The brown-haired man took a deep breath, trying to calm down. He leaned his head back, looking right up at what should have been a starry sky, but was nothing more than a brown reflection in the clouds from the city light. He sighed, closing his eyes, breathing in the sharp autumn air.

“If you have anything else to throw at me, now would be the time,” Cian thought to himself. “It’s not as if I have that much more to lose, right?”

The moment he finished that thought he felt someone push him. He had been standing fairly close to the edge of the sidewalk, cars driving by at too high speeds. That little push sent him flying into the road. He was mid-air, watching the headlights of a truck approaching at an alarming speed.

“I’m not gonna make it” was his final thought before he closed his eyes. What felt like someone grabbing his hand was the last thing he felt before sudden nausea overcame him and he blacked out.

***

Cian groaned. He felt numb. Like he had been asleep for ages, not moving a muscle that whole time. His throat was scorching dry, yet he managed to croak out a few words.

“Am I dead yet?”

“I’m afraid not,” a dark voice smirked.

Cian jumped a bit, finally managing to move his body. He tried facing the direction the voice had come from, opening his eyes bit by bit. It was too bright, and the sharp light became a needle piercing his head. After a few blinks, he could focus his sight, and he looked straight at the slim back of a man with black hair. The man turned away from the sink in the kitchen, walking towards Cian with a raised eyebrow and a damp washcloth in his hand.

“Finally up, sleeping beauty?” The kid chuckled. He looked a bit younger than Cian, with slim, sharp features. His hair was a curly mess, falling into his eyes as be bent down to pat the washcloth at Cian’s face. Cian grabbed the man’s wrist, looking a bit scared.

“Who are you?” all he managed was a whisper, but the kid heard him.

“I’m the dude that saved your sorry ass,” he frowned. “I bumped into you and almost got you killed.”

Cian tried speaking, but could not hold his cough in any more. His throat was literal sand. The kid quickly turned, fetching a glass of water before handing it to Cian. After downing the second glass, the older man glanced over at the younger one, who had taken a seat in a red leaning chair.

The old, brown, faded leather couch Cian was now sitting on was surprisingly comfortable. Cian, finally back to his senses, took in his surroundings. He was in a living room that had red brick walls and windows on two of the walls, the couch pushed to the wall under one of the windows. The room was sparsely furnished, only a table by the lounging area and a TV on top of a makeshift table out of books, and a lamp beside the red chair. The outdated kitchen was at the far side of the room, separated from the living room by a counter. Outside the sun was shining into the windows, and Cian watched the dust particles floating around in the still air before his mind finally realized what the kid had said earlier.

“Uh, kid,” Cian looked over at the other, who now had both his eyebrows raised and a tilted head.

“Yes, sir,” he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m pretty sure you aren’t much older than me, dude.”

“Yeah, that’s- probably right,” Cian said, scratching the back of his head.

“I’m Silas,” Silas stated. “Who’re you?”

“Uh-I’m Cian,” Cian sheepishly replied. “And I can barely remember almost dying. Care to tell me more about that?”

“Well, there isn’t much more to say. We were both distracted right by a busy street, I bumped into your sorry ass, you fell and I got you back to my place. End of story,”

Cian pulled his eyebrows together in a frown.

“Please do tell me exactly how you got me here. The last thing I remember is a huge damn truck coming at me at a hundred miles per hour,” Cian retorted. Silas sighed, leaning back into his chair.

“Why should you even care? I saved you, that’s it.” Silas looked towards a window, puckering his lips a bit.

“I should care because you had to have literally teleported me to have saved me from that shit,” Cian deadpanned. “Because if I got hit and you were the first at the scene, I would have been hospitalized for months, anyways. But I’m at your frickin’ couch, dude. Explain,”

“Every time someone says ‘explain’ all I hear is a dalek,” Silas snickered. He met Cian’s intense stare and his smirk fell. “Jesus, you’re not gonna give up, are you?”

“Nope,”

“Ugh,”

“Now go on.”

“But to do that I would have to tell you my life story, which I’m sure you’re not gonna believe in anyways, so I really don’t see the point,”

“I’ll believe you.” Cian’s grey eyes turned blue in the warm light of the sun, his intense, honest gaze stunning Silas for a second. His long hair was falling into his face as he was leaning forward, supporting his elbows on his knees.

Silas shook his head, pushing himself even further into the slightly hard cushion. He looked up and sighed deeply.

“Promise?”

“Yup.”