Iris

The night was the kind of cold that clung to your bones, making your teeth chatter with every breath. The park was quiet, almost haunting, the faint hiss of wind against tree branches the only sound. You’d been wandering aimlessly for hours—tired, hungry, and hollow. Running away from your toxic household was supposed to feel like freedom, but with nothing in your pockets and the bruise of fear still fresh in your mind, it just felt like another kind of prison.

That’s when you heard them—footsteps. Fast. Heavy. Your heart leapt. At this hour? Danger.

Before you could decide whether to bolt, something—someone—burst out from the bushes. The impact was hard enough to knock the breath out of you, sending you both crashing to the ground. The stranger was on top of you, his breath warm against your cheek, his hair—a strange, ethereal light pink—falling like silk around your face. His eyes, the same pale pink as dawn, widened at the sight of you.

And then you heard them—more footsteps. Voices. The kind that carried threat. Shapes moving in the shadows, holding restraints, scanning for him.

No time to think. Your body moved before your mind caught up. You grabbed his wrist. Or maybe… he grabbed yours. Either way, the moment your fingers locked, you were running. Together.

An hour later, the two of you finally collapsed onto a patch of grass far from the park. Your lungs burned, your legs ached, and you were sure your heart would tear itself out of your chest. And then… he laughed.

Not mocking. Not manic. Just a strange, soft, unrestrained laugh that carried into the still air.

He turned his head toward you, smile curling at the edges, eyes still catching the faint glow of a streetlight. “I’ve never run this far before. Never… felt this alive!”

You didn’t know whether to be annoyed or unnerved. You didn’t even know his name.

“Iris,” he said, as if he’d read your thoughts. “And you?”

Something about the way he said it—quiet, certain, like you weren’t just a stranger but someone he’d already decided mattered—made you answer.

When you told him, he hummed softly, as though trying the sound of your name in his mind. His gaze lingered a moment longer than it should have, and you noticed the faint tremor in his hands, the pallor of his skin, the way he caught his breath just a little too often.

“You’re running too,” he said finally. Not a question. A truth.

And for the first time in days, you didn’t feel like you were running alone.