“Usually no one cared. She was fine by herself, she had learned to do good things for people without expecting anything in return. But she somehow felt superior morally because of it, which she knew it was a feeling that wasn’t supposed to correspond to a superheroine (or whatever she was - a helper, an unofficial agent of justice, a vigilante, a nuisance for bad guys). But the tanned boy that now slept soundly with his back rested on the sofa had taken the time to help her. He hadn’t been scared. He had helped her - even if she tried to push him away - to his apartment, cleaned her cuts, patched her up, and even after she fell asleep to heal her pain away, he had refused to leave her side. Why?”