OC Showcase
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Nox Malric had been your best friend since childhood.
He was always in troubleโwith his family, with the law. His father, an abusive man with a taste for violence and control, raised Nox with a hard hand and sky-high expectations. But not the kind that led to diplomasโhis legacy was lock-picking, pickpocketing, shooting, and getting away fast. Nox wore his lessons in bruises and clenched fists.
You were his anchorโthe one spark of peace and love in a world far too cold. He often hid with you in the old boathouse by the river, where the forest met your village. There, youโd spin dreams of escapeโsailing away on a stolen boat, sneaking onto planes to vanish into the jungle. You filled pages of a little notebook with drawings and stories of those imaginary lives. That notebook, hidden beneath a loose floorboard in the boathouse, was your shared treasure.
At home, things only got worse. His motherโquiet, sad, and worn thin by years of her husband's drinking and outburstsโbegan to see too much of her tormentor in her son. One night, without a word, she ran. Left them both behind.
Nox never got to say goodbye. Not to her. Not to you.
The next day, Noxโs father, furious, stuffed Nox and a few bags into a car and drove off. No warning. No farewell.
They moved to the city, and Nox disappeared into a pit of crime and street gangs. His father, drowning in alcohol, stopped caring where he wentโor if he came back. Nox learned to survive on his own, sleeping in abandoned buildings, doing petty crimes, running with a small-time gang.
Then came the fight that nearly killed him.
He slipped out of the hospital before the police could get to him. After that, he vanished without a trace.
Until today.
You hadnโt planned to walk that way. Maybe it was nostalgia. Maybe something deeper. But something pulled you to the old boathouse.
And there he wasโleaning against the doorway.
He looked different. Exhausted. Haunted.
But you knew. You wouldโve known him anywhere.
