The night was dark and the thin waning moon didn't help to see a little bit better. She always loved the moon, the starry sky and she knew the Londoner nights way too well so she stepped out of her house prepared. She used to carry a little and old torch with her, just in case.

It was Mia, a 19 years old Italian girl who lived on the outskirts of the city. She went out alone to take out the trash but she didn't expect to find a boy covered in blood sitting on a bench under a broken streetlight.

"Reg Dwight? It's me, Mia Leone, from high school ..?" she said, while getting closer to that mysterious shadow.

As soon as she had a better view of the boy, she noticed that he was stuck in a state of shock. He wasn't talking or moving, he was barely blinking.

"Reg? Hey ... Are you ok?" she hopelessly continued "Do you need a ride home or something?"

"No, thank you"

"Oh, he speaks. Good, this is surely a good sign"

"Are you sure?" she politely asked before she could notice the bruises on his face and the blood on the shirt.

"What happened to your face?!" she looked really concerned.

"I'm fine" he muttered.

"I have to insist. Let me take you home".

Once she saw him in those conditions, it was impossible to move on, the last thing she wanted was feeling guilty all night long for not helping him; guilt had a lot of power on her. Despite her kindness, he didn't answer. He kept staring at the empty road with even emptier eyes.

"Reg? please ..." she begged, hoping to catch any signal from him; a head movement, an eye roll, anything.

"I can't go home, Mia ... I don't want to. You don't have to worry about me.. please go".

Once she understood the circumstances, she felt the need to do something about it. He needed help, he clearly was scared and lonely. For some reasons, he didn't want to come back to his family. He was running away from something or, maybe, someone; probably the same person who did that to him. Mia wasn't 100% sure about what had happened, she just had a bad feeling in her stomach and, if he refused to go home, she would have taken him to hers.

"I'll go ... but only if you come back home with me".

The apathy on Reg's face gave way to a slightly annoyed expression: "As I said, I have no intention of coming back home. Thank you, but you should go".

She pointed her feet even more firmly on the concrete, crossing her arms and giving him a displeased look. That was the worst way to get rid of her.

"I want you to follow me" she was deadly sure about what she wanted. Nobody would have made her change her mind.

He sighed.

"Listen, I promise I won't take you back home to your parents ... but please, let me take you somewhere safetier".

He looked her in the eyes for the first time since they met that night, just to look back at his shoes two seconds later. She was still as pretty as she was when they were in high school; probably prettier, but the darkness and his tired eyes were of no help. Long chocolate hair was the perfect frame for a delicate and pale face. Her eyes were light brown, with a pinch of coppery red in them and her lips were painted by the pinkest peach. 5 feet 4 of pure beauty.

After a bunch of endless seconds, he decided that, maybe, following her was the best thing to do. Sleeping on a pretty girl's couch sounded definitely better than napping on that rusty bench; plus she was the most stubborn girl in town, she would have never left without him.

He nodded: "Fine ...".

With a satisfied face and a pleased grin, she gently took his hand and started walking home. Along the way, Reg came up with thoughts he didn't hear at first, probably because of the trauma of being kicked out of his childhood house by his own father and being rescued by an ex-schoolmate.

"Mh ... Mia?".

"Yes?" she replied, turning her face back to him, adorned with a big and shiny smile.

"God ... put that smile away, please ..."

"W-what about your parents ...? Are they ok with letting me stay?" the boy stammered, still dazed by her previous smile.

"Don't worry about them" she answered.

"Well, I do worry about them ... I'm a mess with parents, apparently".

The concern in Reg's voice made Mia stop. She turned back, looked at him and smiled: "If you are worried about a parenting speech from Italy, then you better worry ... but I don't think you would hear them screaming from so far away".

"Wait, what? Aren't they here?".

"It's been almost a year since I started living by myself" she affirmed proudly "When I was 18 they had to come back to Italy and I didn't want to come back ... I built myself a life here and I didn't want to start all over again a third time, so ...".

She moved to England when she was 13 because of her parents' job. She wasn't excited to start a new life, leave her childhood friends and favorite places, but when she started school, everybody turned out to be really nice to her. They were all so interested in her because she came from a beautiful country; she became very popular. The new language was a problem, but only in the beginning. She's always been a fast learner and daily practice helped her a lot; in less than a year her English was almost perfect.

"We should really go now, before you turn into an ice sculpture" she joked.

He hinted a smile, with his eyes still stuck on the floor and then started walking again.

After less than 5 minutes, both of them were standing in front of a tiny English cottage. It was a stone structure, with wooden windows and a small green lawn. The whole complex was surrounded by a fence with a little gate.

"It's not much, but it's home ..." she stated.

Reg followed his host inside the house and immediately felt welcome and comfortable. The atmosphere was warm and cozy, the fireplace was lit and the sofa was full of soft pillows and blankets.

"The house is really beautiful, Mia"

"Thank you! I redecorated it myself ... you know, after my parents left... and bills are really cheap since the house is not that big".

While he was looking around he noticed, with great surprise, that there was a piano in the corner and he couldn't help but focus their attention on it.

"Do you play?" he asked, pointing at the instrument with his eyes.

"Sometime... I usually play when I feel strong emotions, to release the tension... but I'm feeling pretty ordinary now. You are really good, if I remember right".

"Well, I try".

Reg continued to analyze the house when Mia's voice broke the silence again: "Oh! I'm such an idiot! Your nose ... let me take a look".

Actually, Reg was still covered in blood with a big bruise under his left eye. She told him to sit, then she disappeared for a couple of minutes: "Don't move, I'll be back ..." she insisted, making hand gestures to emphasize the concept, " ...Don't move" she repeated.

"Where else could I go?" He thought.

Less than two minutes later, she appeared with clean clothes, a bowl of cold water and a towel. She sat next to him and leaned towards his wounded face.

"I'm gonna wipe that dry blood off of you. Is this ok?..." she whispered.

"Go ahead" he said, embarrassed.

So, she got even closer to his face and, with a wet and cold towel she began to wash away all the blood that remained on him. Her face was so focused on what she was doing; she didn't want to hurt him but, as soon as she placed the towel closer to his broken nose, a little groan came out of Reg's mouth and his hand grabbed her wrist as a pain reflex.

"I'm so sorry ... I should have been more gentle" she panicked.

"It's ok ... don't worry" he replied with a soft voice.

They both stopped, looking at each other from a very little distance. Her hand was still under Reg's chin and his right one was still attached to her tiny wrist. Their glances were glued; no glasses in between since she took them off to clean his face better.

"Your lip is split ..." she said keeping eye contact, then she dipped her finger in the bowl and gently cleaned his bottom lip with water.

"You changed ..." she added, smiling.

"What do you mean?" Reg seemed confused about her statement.

"I don't know... Your traits are more masquline" she noticed, slightly touching his jaw and chin.

"Oh well, I guess it's called -growing up-" he suggested, blushing under her touch.

"I guess you're right" she took a moment to scrupulously look at him, then she added: "Yup, you really changed ..."

"Well, you didn't" he giggled.