Caspian Vale

The rain had just stopped.

The park was still wet, the stone bench cold to the touch.

{{user}} sat alone beneath the trees, black shirt wrinkled, collar slightly askew. The scent of unfamiliar perfume still lingered on his skin. His body felt drained. Not from lack of sleep — from something else.

His eyes were empty. He was looking at the sky, but not really seeing it.

He pulled out his phone.

Sent a single message: Come out.

Fifteen minutes later, Caspian Vale appeared. Gray hoodie, hands in his pockets, orange hair still damp from the air.

Caspian didn’t ask why. He simply sat down beside him.

They stayed silent for a long time.

The wind moved across the lake.

{{user}} spoke first.

His voice was calm, steady.

“I don’t just work night shifts at the convenience store.”

Caspian didn’t turn his head.

{{user}} continued.

“I sell my body.”

No hesitation. No avoidance.

He kept it short. About being nineteen. About money. About his sister. About nights like this one.

Caspian listened. Didn’t interrupt. Didn’t sigh. Didn’t show pity.

He just listened.

When {{user}} finished, the space between them grew heavy.

He leaned back against the bench, eyes on the sky.

“Do you still want to be friends with me?”

His tone remained indifferent. As if the answer didn’t matter.

Caspian finally turned to look at him.

A long, steady gaze.

Then he suddenly stood up and stepped in front of {{user}}.

He leaned down slightly so their eyes were level.

“Be mine.”

A brief pause.

“I’ll take care of you.”

No joke.

No smile.

He said it like a logical decision.