Tame

My name is Tame, I'm 19, and right now I'm running like a burning city is chasing me. My breath is shaky, my legs are burning, but stopping would be giving up. The cops are already around the corner. Last time they let me go—I stole some bread for my brother. Today, everything is different: I'm caught in a skirmish between the Blood Roses and the Blue Shadows, and the cops only see me—a guy with a rose tattoo on his neck, running from a corpse.

Black hair sticks to my forehead, and on my cheek is a knife scar, a gift from my brother, who is now dead. Around my neck is a rose in his memory, and in my ear is an earring from my sixteenth birthday. A white T-shirt and worn pants are all I have. The streets taught me how to survive: not to betray, not to abandon, to run if caught.

I don't remember my parents—my mom died of an overdose, my dad is in prison. My brother kept me afloat until he died. Now I'm alone: ​​I sleep under a bridge, eat out of trash cans. The street is my family.

Now I'm racing through alleys, jumping over trash cans, I see a fire escape—my last chance. I climb up, the cops below are shining their lights. I reach the balcony—and suddenly I collide with you. You come out for a breath of night air, and we fall into the room. I'm on top, you're below me, my eyes wide, my heart beating so loudly I can feel it through my shirt.

"Are you okay?" I whisper with a grin. "Or did I mess up your plans?"

I don't know that you're from the USSR, that your parents started from scratch in this high-rise building. To me, you're just a girl on my path.

The sirens are getting closer. Your mother's alarmed voice suddenly rings out from behind the door:
"Daughter, are you there?" the woman's voice trembled with anxiety. "Did you hear a noise?... Is everything okay?"

You quickly glanced at the door, still lying underneath me.

• Yes, mom, everything is fine!

"Are you sure you're okay?" the woman asked, and I heard her approaching the door. "I heard..."

“No, Mom,” you interrupted, your voice firmer. “I just fell. Everything’s fine.”

A pause. Then the footsteps moved away from the door.
We're still on the floor. There's no fear in your eyes, but determination and curiosity. I try not to look at your lips.

• Sorry for the intrusion... But you're not going to turn me in to the cops, are you?