Hot chocolate

Sam must have taken the stairs at a sprint from his apartment three floors above hers because he knocks at the door just then. Standing, she opens the door for him and he instantly greets her by gripping her shoulders with both his hands and bending at the waist to kiss her lightly on her forehead.

"Don't you worry about a thing, sweets," he says and she realizes that her panic must be showing on her face. "Now, where is he?"

He isn't looking at her anymore, instead, his eyes sweep over the living room and kitchen. He is still driven by the rush of running to her apartment and she almost laughs at the curls of his messy dark hair that stick out around his head as if he had just woken up, which she suspects would be correct considering his attire of sweatpants, flip-flops and wrinkled gym tee.

"He's sleeping," she supplies, guiding him towards the kitchen and shutting the door as he steps out of the doorway.

She joins him at the island and points to her bedroom where the little bump rises and falls with silent snores. Sam creeps quietly to the hallway and she opens up a cupboard to grab another mug from the shelf.

"What's his name? What did he tell you? How old is he? I thought he's be a teenage," Sam confesses, climbing onto a stool as she searches for the stash of hot chocolate packs Sam likes whenever he comes over.

"He doesn't speak. I don't know anything about him, only that he doesn't want to go home or to the police. He wouldn't say his name so I just call him Blue, because of his eyes." She sticks a spoon into the mug after pouring out the content of the hot chocolate pack and drowning the powder in steaming water.

He accepts the mug and immediately starts stirring. "This is crazy." He shakes his head and props his chin on his free hand, leaning on the counter as he yawns. "You know nothing about him, much less children. For all you know, he could rob you and take off, or kill you!"

She laughs and he glares as he takes a sip of the hot chocolate. "That's preposterous, Sam. He's just a sweet little kid. I mean, I found him playing with the pigeons in the park."

Sam raises an eyebrow beneath his squashed mop of dark locks. "Found him? Where was he? Your park is just a brick path between a couple trees," he recalls, remembering her favorite place in the city that she spends her breaks in. 

The End

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