And Action (Gream / DreamNotFound)

Chapter 1

George pants as he runs through a dark alley. The footsteps were nearing and he was out of breath. It wasn't long before he couldn't run anymore.

"He's over here!" A man shouted.

Just as he was about to run, a hand grabbed his arm and he yelps in surprise as he gets pushed to the ground.

Someone knees him in the stomach and he gasps out in pain.

"You messed with the wrong people tonight, kid," a voice growled at him.

Another hand grabs him by the hair and lifts him up. Instinctively, his hands shoot up to grab at the hand lifting him.

George thought that three drunken men would be easy targets for pickpocketing. He successfully took two of their wallets, which was conveniently sticking out of the back pockets of their jeans.

What he didn't expect was the fact that they actually noticed him and gave chase.

"Take off the brat's mask."

One of them yanks his black handkerchief, which he used to cover half his face, off.

Someone punches him in the face and he hits the ground, coughing up blood. Damn, he bit his tongue hard.

"Fucking brat, thought you could steal from us," he gets kicked in the ribs. "Maybe we should teach you a lesson."

George says nothing and screws his eyes closed from the amount of pain he felt and that he sees one of them raising another fist.

"Woaaaaah, am I witnessing a murder right now?" A smooth voice sounded from a short distance.

After a moment of hesitation, George opens his eyes cautiously to see the three men he targeted looking to the entrance of the alley.

At the end was a tall young man with dirty blonde hair, cockily leaning on one side of the walls.

"Come on now," the man cocked an eyebrow. "What did the kid do?"

George would've scoffed if it wasn't for his situation. Kid? He looked about the same age as George.

"Brat thought he could pickpocket us tonight," one of the men kicks him again and he groans in pain.

The mysterious man sighs. "Look, just take your stuff back and leave the kid alone."

George almost rolled his eyes. There he goes with the "kid".

"I'm sure he learnt his lesson," he added.

"Whatever," one of the men mumbled as he dug through his pockets for the stolen items. They leave, after kicking George one last time.

After they were finally gone, George struggled up and coughs harshly.

Damn, it fucking hurts.

He hears neat footsteps nearing him and he looks up defiantly at the man who had practically saved him. The stranger offers him a hand, which he took.

"Thanks, I guess," he mumbles.

"What's your name?" the stranger asks.

"Why should I tell you," George looked skeptically at him.

Now that he had a better look at him, the man was definitely tall. He had dirty blonde hair that was styled messily hanging just barely over his eyes. He wore a light green hoodie and some black skinny jeans. One could say he was handsome.

The man laughs. "I mean, I guess you don't have a reason to. I'm Clay, by the way."

George pats his clothes down, trying to dust away all the dirt and the disgusting things from the alleyway off.