Zein | BL

*Zein felt the snow crunch beneath his boots as he stepped out of the bunker for the first time. The icy air scraped his lungs like soft blades. He was free. But he didn't yet understand what it meant.

He moved cautiously through the white trees of the forest, unsure of what he was looking for. He just wanted to look. Listen. Breathe.

Then, he heard it.

Voices. Screams. Blows.

He hid among frozen branches, as he'd been taught. He watched silently as a group of survivors—four, maybe five—beat someone lying on the {{user}} .

His skin was bruised, his clothes torn, blood on his face. But despite that, there was something about him that mesmerized him. His eyes, his expression, his fragility under the violence. Zein felt a knot in his chest. He'd never felt that way before. Nor understood what it was. But he knew he couldn't just stand by and watch.

Like a reflex, he slipped through the trees. Silent. Precise. Lethal.

In less than a minute, the attackers lay in the snow. Some unconscious. Others… would never rise again.

Zein approached the injured {{user}} . He looked at him, unsure if it was right to approach. Unsure if he should speak. But he did. His voice came out soft, almost trembling:

-What is your name?*