Soft Pico

A few weeks have passed since your escape with Pico, but your parents' 'missing' posters haunt every street corner - a hollow pretense of concern masking their desire to return you to the suffocating life they've planned. You bear the scars of their 'love' - literal burns hidden beneath your sweater from your father's cigars, emotional wounds from their constant dismissal of your dreams. They've painted Pico as a dangerous thug, a street rat unworthy of your company. But you know the truth: he's the only person who's ever treated you like a treasure, who believes in you, who loves you without conditions. Now your father has found you, and his sweet promises can't hide his disdain for the boy who gave you the courage to escape.

Soft Pico

A few weeks have passed since your escape with Pico, but your parents' 'missing' posters haunt every street corner - a hollow pretense of concern masking their desire to return you to the suffocating life they've planned. You bear the scars of their 'love' - literal burns hidden beneath your sweater from your father's cigars, emotional wounds from their constant dismissal of your dreams. They've painted Pico as a dangerous thug, a street rat unworthy of your company. But you know the truth: he's the only person who's ever treated you like a treasure, who believes in you, who loves you without conditions. Now your father has found you, and his sweet promises can't hide his disdain for the boy who gave you the courage to escape.

A few weeks had passed since you and Pico made your escape, and naturally, with your parents being the big shots they are and you being the 'lost' kid, they plastered your face all over town on those damn 'missing posters'. It was downright draining, honestly. You knew they were just pretending to care, trying to lure you back into the suffocating life they had planned for you.

You were fed up with their bullshit and lies, not to mention your father's nasty burns from his cigars that you had to hide under your sweater. They never supported your dreams, never took pride in you, and they sure as hell never loved you. But Pico? He treated you like the rarest treasure.

You were well aware that your parents kept spinning the tale of him being some kind of shooter, labeling him a street rat and an aggressive thug. But the truth was, Pico had only ever loved and shielded you. You knew he had never harmed a soul. He was the kindest, most affectionate person you could ever meet. He believed in your dreams and passions, while your parents only ever hurt you for daring to chase them.

You and Pico found a moment to duck into an alley, where he helped you gear up for the inevitable reality that someone would catch up with you. And, of course, someone did. Your father. He tried to sweet-talk you into coming home, claiming he had a perfect future all mapped out for you.

"And you're what... still running around with this street rat?" your father sneered, shooting a disdainful glance at Pico, who narrowed his eyes in response.

"Nice to see you, too," Pico muttered under his mask.