The street was quiet. Too quiet.
Aiden Rivera clutched a worn paperback against his chest as he walked under the dim streetlights. The night air was cool, brushing against his face like a gentle whisper. His silver hair, long and straight, fluttered softly with each step, catching the faint glow of the lamps above. His golden eyes, vibrant even in the dark, scanned the empty road ahead as he whistled a cheerful little tune—off-key but full of quiet satisfaction.
He had finally gotten the book. That book. The one he'd been trying to find for weeks. The secondhand bookstore at the edge of town had a single copy, and the kind old man who ran the place had agreed to lend it to him.
It was a small victory. A little joy.
He should have headed home immediately. His parents had told him not to go out after dark, especially not alone. But he'd slipped out quietly, confident that nothing bad would happen. He wasn't a kid anymore. He was just a boy going to a bookstore. How dangerous could it be?
That confidence faded fast.
His steps slowed.
A prickling sensation crept up the back of his neck.
He wasn't alone.
He glanced over his shoulder. Nothing. Just the hum of a faraway streetlamp and the faint rustle of leaves.
Still, something felt… off.
His feet picked up speed. He tucked the book under his arm and tried to shake the unease, but his gut tightened with every step. "You're just being paranoid", he told himself. "Don't freak out."
Then he heard it.
Footsteps. More than one set. Close behind him.
Aiden's chest tightened. His mind screamed run, and this time, he listened.
But as soon as he bolted, shadows moved in front of him.
Three men stepped out of the alley's mouth like they had been waiting for him. He froze in place, blood draining from his face. He turned to run back, but two more blocked the way he came.
Trapped.
His heart pounded wildly, his mouth dry. He didn't know what to say. What to do.
"Well, what do we have here?" one of the men said, his voice low and amused.
Another's eyes roamed over Aiden, and his lips curled into something between a grin and a sneer. "Damn. Have you ever seen a boy look like that?"
"Nah," someone behind Aiden muttered. "He doesn't even look real. Skin like glass... golden eyes... damn near glowing."
The words made Aiden's stomach twist.
"I mean, we've only ever messed with girls," the first one said casually. "But this one? I wouldn't mind giving a boy a try."
Aiden took a shaky step back, shoulders pressing into the rough wall behind him. His hands gripped the book tighter, knuckles turning white.
His thoughts spun. "This is my fault. I shouldn't have gone out. I should've listened. Just a stupid book, it wasn't worth this. Why did I think I'd be safe just because I'm a boy?".
One of the men stepped forward, smirking. "Hey now, don't panic, pretty thing. We're not here to hurt that pretty face. You cooperate, and we'll keep things... gentle."
Aiden's knees almost gave out. His eyes darted around for any sign of someone—anyone—else. But the alley was still and silent. His body trembled. He'd never felt this kind of fear before—cold, heavy, and paralyzing.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
And then—like a break in the storm—another voice echoed down the alley.
"Let him go."
Aiden's eyes snapped open.
A figure stood at the far end of the alleyway, tall and calm, half in shadow. He looked like he belonged on a movie screen. Maybe a year or two older than Aiden, with sharp features and dark clothes that clung to his lean frame. His expression was unreadable, but his presence filled the alley like a wave.
The leader of the group turned, irritated. "Where the hell did you come from?"
No answer.
The man scoffed. "Alright, hero. I'll give you one chance. Walk away."
Still, the newcomer said nothing. He just walked forward.
The man growled. "Last warning."
Then, before anyone could blink, the boy in black punched him square in the jaw.
The thug stumbled back and hit the pavement hard. The air left his lungs in a grunt of surprise and pain.
Aiden stared in disbelief. What the hell just happened?
The man leapt to his feet, furious. "You little bastard! Get him!"
The other four lunged together.
Aiden backed against the wall again, his heart pounding for a different reason now. He wanted to scream be careful, run, don't get hurt because of me—but the words wouldn't come.
But he didn't need to worry.
The stranger fought like something out of a dream—or a nightmare.
He was fast. Too fast. His movements were fluid, every strike brutal but controlled. He didn't flinch. He didn't hesitate. Within seconds, the alley was filled with the sound of bodies hitting the ground and groans of pain.
It was over in less than a minute.
The five attackers lay groaning and twisted on the ground.
The boy in black stood still in the center of the chaos, barely breathing hard.
Aiden didn't know what to say. His mouth was dry. He looked at his rescuer, his chest aching with gratitude and confusion and awe.
Their eyes met.
The boy gave him a quiet, unreadable look.
Then, his voice—low, calm, and oddly warm—cut through the quiet like a whisper made of velvet and thunder.
"Don't walk alone in dangerous places like this again, human."
Aiden blinked. "Human?"
But before he could even form a response, the boy had already vanished—swiftly and silently, like a ghost melting into the night.
Aiden stood frozen, wide-eyed and breathless. The alley now felt emptier than it had a minute ago, yet his chest was anything but calm. His heart thudded painfully against his ribs, faster and louder than it had even when he was in danger.
What just happened?
He didn't understand. Not really. But his body moved before his thoughts could catch up. He reached down, scooped up his book—now a little dusty but still intact—and bolted from the alley.
---
Aiden's family home wasn't just a house. It was a quiet mansion nestled behind tall hedges, surrounded by trimmed gardens and soft, swaying trees. A place that always felt calm. Safe.
But tonight, the peaceful silence felt too loud. Too aware of his shaking hands and pounding heartbeat.
He crept through the wrought iron gates and slipped inside, easing the front door shut behind him. The house was dim, quiet. He tiptoed into the sitting room, holding his breath as he made his way toward the staircase.
Almost there, he thought, placing his foot gently on the first step.
Click.
The light flicked on behind him.
Aiden flinched.
He turned slowly, shoulders drooping like a child caught sneaking cookies before dinner.
There, standing by the light switch in a flowing robe, was his mother.
She was beautiful—elegant in a timeless way. Her long dark hair tumbled down her back in gentle waves, and her warm brown eyes, though tired, sparkled with concern more than anger.
Before she could even speak, Aiden blurted out, "Mom, I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have gone out this late. I promise I won't do it again."
His mother raised an eyebrow, arms folded across her chest. "So you did sneak out."
He winced. "Yeah…"
She sighed, walking toward him with a gentle shake of her head. "Aiden, I tell you not to go out at night because I worry about your safety. Not to control you."
"I know," he said quietly, eyes dropping to the floor.
There was a pause. The weight of unspoken things hung between them.
Finally, she reached out and brushed a hand through his hair. "Just go to bed, love."
Aiden nodded. "Good night, Mom."
"Good night, sweetheart."
---
His bedroom felt quieter than usual. The familiar comfort of his soft sheets and stacks of books didn't bring the same peace they usually did.
He lay in bed staring at the ceiling, his thoughts spinning in a thousand directions. Sleep hovered just out of reach, blocked by the memory of a voice—a voice that was still replaying in his ears like a song stuck on loop.
"Don't walk alone in dangerous places like this again, human."
Aiden turned over, pressing his face into his pillow. A part of him was embarrassed by how fast his heart still pounded just from remembering those words.
Why did he say "human"? Was that just a figure of speech? Or… did he mean it literally?
He didn't know. None of it made sense. The guy had appeared out of nowhere, fought like a trained soldier—or maybe something even stronger—and disappeared like wind.
And he was… handsome. Not just regular handsome. Not the kind of handsome Aiden saw in his classmates or most of the TV actors. No, this boy was something else. Something out of a dream. Ethereal.
Aiden let out a quiet, breathless laugh and rolled onto his back.
"I must look ridiculous," he whispered to himself. But the smile wouldn't leave his face.
His cheeks burned at the memory of how their eyes had met. How calm the boy had been—even after taking on five guys without breaking a sweat.
And then, of course, there was his voice.
Aiden touched his chest, right where it still felt warm.
His voice… it sounded like honey, he thought. Like something rich and smooth and soft and deep all at once. I could listen to that voice forever.
He closed his eyes, letting the memory of it play again and again. Somewhere between those loops of thought, a resolve began to form.
"I don't know who he is. But I will find him. I'll thank him properly for saving me. And maybe… maybe I'll get to hear that voice again".
But for tonight, he forced himself to rest. Whatever came next—he'd start figuring it out tomorrow.
And with that promise tucked gently into his heart, Aiden finally drifted off to sleep.