The fear Milo felt was a cold, sharp thing, but it was quickly overshadowed by sheer stubbornness. He'd made a decision, foolish or not, and he wouldn't abandon a living being to the elements, not when they looked so utterly vulnerable. The dragon-like man, for that's what he clearly was, was surprisingly light, but still a dead weight. The rain, instead of letting up, seemed to pick up pace, driving against Milo's face with renewed force.
"Alright, big guy, help me out here,"
Milo grunted, trying to get his shoulder under the man's arm. It was like wrestling a very tall, oddly textured sack of potatoes. The horns snagged once on his sleeve, and he winced, pulling back just enough to avoid getting a sharp jab. The large, fluffy ears, soaked and matted now, pressed flat against the man's head, looking less wolf-like and more just… damp.
He managed to pull the man into a more upright position, propping him against the damp brick wall for a moment. The intense green eye flickered open again, more lucid this time, tracking Milo's movements with a raw, almost animalistic awareness. It was a gaze that didn't miss a thing, even in its current disoriented state. Milo saw a flicker of something ancient and unyielding there, a contrast to the vulnerability that had first drawn him in.
"Can you stand?"
Milo asked, voice strained. He slipped an arm around the man's waist, his fingers brushing against the subtle ridges of scales that hinted at where the tail emerged from beneath his coat. The skin beneath the scales felt strangely warm, almost hot to the touch.
The man didn't reply, but with a shuddering breath, he pushed off the wall, leaning heavily into Milo. He was taller than Milo, easily by half a head, and his full weight threatened to buckle Milo's knees. It was a struggle just to keep him upright, let alone move him.
"Right," Milo gasped, adjusting his grip. "One step at a time. My place isn't far. Just a few blocks into Westkilo, Calin City."
The journey was a slow, agonizing crawl. Every alley seemed longer, every streetlamp dimmer. Milo found himself dragging more than assisting, the other man's long hair occasionally brushing against his face, surprisingly soft even when wet. The horns, though small, felt sharp against his side as he tried to maneuver their combined weight. He could feel the cold radiating from his own soaked clothes, but the dragon-man still felt unnervingly warm.
He kept glancing at the man's face. The harsh light of a passing car briefly illuminated the intricate, starburst scar around his right eye, making it look almost deliberate, a mark of something profound. It was a chilling detail, one that spoke of a past Milo couldn't even begin to imagine.
"Just... hold on," Milo muttered, more to himself than to his unwilling cargo. "Almost there. Westkilo, Calin City. Not exactly the best place for someone... like you... to be found."
He finally reached the solid, well-maintained door of his apartment building in Westkilo, Calin City. The brass numbers gleamed faintly even in the dim street light. With a groan of effort, he fumbled for his keys, the heavy weight of the man leaning against him, almost pushing him through the door. Getting him up the two flights of stairs to his spacious, tastefully furnished apartment was still a challenge, but the wide staircase and brighter landings made it less of a struggle than it would have been in a rundown building. Each step was an Everest, each landing a brief, hard-won victory. The half-dragon made no sound, no complaint, just breathed in shallow, ragged gasps.
Finally, they were inside. Milo kicked the door shut with his heel, letting the man slide down the wall and slump onto the polished hardwood floor of his expansive living room. The rain outside seemed to intensify, mocking their hard-won shelter. The apartment was warm, well-lit, and smelled faintly of expensive coffee and a faint, pleasant wood polish. It was a sanctuary from the urban gloom outside.
Milo knelt, panting, pushing a damp strand of hair from his eyes. He looked at the creature he had dragged in, truly looked at him in the clear, warm light of his overhead fixtures. The obsidian horns glinted, the dark green eyes were now completely closed, and the wolf-like ears were still matted, but Milo could feel the faint warmth radiating from the man. He was utterly otherworldly, yet undeniably, distressingly, human in his vulnerability.
"Well," Milo said, his voice raspy from exertion, "now what?"