When Dawn Dies Down

Shattered Glass

The silent morning of the town was shattered into pieces by the sound of a gunshot. The people jumped from their beds. The town was quiet no more, and panic and tension had taken over. The people ran to check, panicking like they'd never done before.
Old Mr. Halbert William was dead.
Someone died. The news might not have sounded as terrifying in any other place, but this was Ranhbniz, a town where no one had died unnaturally for 60 years, not even during the world wars. The people were scared, trembling and frightened, the news spread like wildfire, and so did the fear.
For days, the only thing that the townspeople ever had in their mind was who caused this tragedy. Suspects were interrogated one by one, but all proved to be innocent. The town's technology, what's more, was too unadvanced to collect fingerprints. With no one to blame it on, the people became scared of each other, locking themselves inside their houses, refusing any form of contact with others.
Some, however, who were sick of this situation, turned their eyes to one person.
Nameless.
Yes, it all seemed right. He had to be the reason, the murder happened right after his arrival — such an oddly specific time. The moment he came, the decades of peace had been destroyed, broken. He had to be the reason.
The enraged people started searching for the fugitive, the man who had destroyed their peace. Yet he was nowhere to be found. The car, however, stood there untouched,
By the time this happened, young Irwin White was 16, resting at home, reading. Ordered by his parents, he was not to step one inch out of the house.
Knock.
Irwin looked up. The sound seemed to come from the kitchen.
Screech.
He stood up, slowly marching towards the kitchen.
Crash!
A glass bottle was shattered. Irwin almost jumped.
"Who's there?!"
A shadow appeared. It was a skinny, pale man, staggering.
It was Nameless.
He raised his hands. "I meant no harm. Please."
"Aren't you that mysterious guy the people's been talking about?" Irwin looked at him curiously. "You know, the skinny guy."
"Yes." He lowered his hands. Irwin didn't seem aggressive.
"The murderer?"
"No!" He answered, triggered. "I'm no murderer."
Irwin stared at his eyes. They were pale green, weary and full of blood. But there was something else, a shine, that only a kind man could show.
"Please," Nameless begged, "please don't tell them I'm here."
Irwin slightly nodded. He believed him.
Nameless felt relieved. "Thank you, thank you kid, thank you so much. What's your name?"
"Irwin. Irwin White." He replied.
"Irwin. What a lovely name." Nameless spoke softly.
"You look devastated." Irwin said,  "You want to rest? I got my room up there."
Nameless smiled. The burden that distorted his face was eased.
Irwin took him upstairs to his room. It was a simple one, a bed, near the windows, with a filled bookshelf at its end. There was also a desk.
On the top space of the bookshelf there were trophies, on which wrote:

Ranhbniz Annual Junior Sports Conference
Track (Running) Champion

"Those are yours?' Nameless pointed at the trophies.
Irwin nodded.
"Wow, very athletic, I see." Nameless smiled, "Would you mind if I sleep here right now?" Irwin shook his head.
"Thank you." Nameless fell down onto the bed, quickly falling asleep.