Inspired by 100 drabble prompts from a livejournal community.

01. Beginnings.

He was going to starting anew - fresh. He moved into a new city – far from where he came from, to make sure that no one knew who he was. He had changed his surname, enrolled in a new university and he rented a small apartment in an old building no one bothered to look at. His landlady was old, a widow, who was kind, homely and didn't ask too much questions. He bought new clothes as well, all in dark colors, plain and practical. He also wore glasses now. He didn't need them though, his eyesight was perfect, but the frames were an excuse to not meet people's eyes on the street.

Fenris didn't want to be seen - not yet, not until he won't be who he was.

He only did things out of necessity now. He was going to a university (and risked people getting to know who him) to be able to earn a diploma; because that was the only way he could earn a decent living in the years to come. And only with a substantial amount of money can he really protect himself. So that one day he can stop looking over his shoulder, waiting to be caught. He wondered if there would come a time he'd stop feeling so scared. Once upon a time he could remember when he wasn't pinned down by this fear, but that was a long time ago. Or at least, it felt as if it was a long time ago. He didn't know anymore, it didn't matter. All he knew now was that he was escaping – so very desperate to change himself.

Because all he really wanted was to stop running.

Garrett Hawke was finally graduating with first Latin honors from one of the most prestigious law schools in the world. He smiled like a prince, thanking everyone who congratulated him on his success. The suit he was wearing was the finest one he's ever laid his eyes on. He was almost afraid of wearing it – it had cost what his mother had been trying to budget for their family for a whole year. But now that didn't matter – money wasn't going to be a problem any longer. Top firms practically begged on their knees to employ him.

Now his ravaged name didn't matter – no one cared that he was an Amell.

In a few years, he can buy back his mother's estate which his uncle had secretly sold to pay for his gambling debts. He was going to rebuild everything his uncle Gamlen had thoughtlessly destroyed. He was going to rebuild what was left of his family – for his mother, for Bethany and Carver and for the memory of his father.

But even in the face of a goal, it didn't stop him from missing his hometown. He had lived far away from gigantic building and air heavy with smog all his childhood. He was always happy then, he couldn't remember ever wishing he led another kind of life. But it all changed when his father passed away. Uncle Gamlen suddenly came asking financial aid from his mother. They didn't have much to give him, so they left their peaceful lives to help family. He hated city when he arrived; it was too cramped. Everything was gray instead of the greens of his home. Everyone seemed angry here; too concerned with their lives to care what happened to their neighbors. And his mother was always, always sad here. The warmth of family was lost – lost in the betrayal of his mother's brother.

But there was no way he could forget his father's words, that there was nothing more important than family. His father's words rang in his mind, and now his father was lost to memory and words – there was no way he would let go of those. And so he braved the near-poverty they lived through for years. He worked four to five odd jobs, until he could afford to get a decent education for himself and his siblings. He laughed a little less, sighed a little more – sometimes he worried that untimely white strands would start sprouting on his head. Leandra would laugh at him then, the sides of her eyes crinkling in joy, and then she would kiss his forehead and tell him how proud she was.

Now, it was all going to pay off. Hawke was heading into a war of wit and gold. The world was just a dirty game, there were tricks to learn, he learned - and he learned them well.

Fenris was working his shift in a dainty little café near his school. He was wearing a dark blue apron over a white buttoned down shirt. He hasn't been to the barber recently, and his hair was a tad bit too long. It covered his eyes, but he attempted to tidy it up by tying it with a rubber band at the base of his nape.

It was a rather slow day today. He leaned his weight against the countertop behind him and hid his yawn behind his palms.

That was when he came into the shop.

That was when they first met each other.

The first thing Fenris noticed was the man's height. His new customer was probably a head taller than him. His shoulders were unbelievably broad as well, and his dark suit was tailored exactly to highlight his intimidating physique. He watched the man scan the menu hanging above the cashier. He had a strong jaw, covered with light stubble. His cheekbones were sharp under the café lights and his dark brown eyes intensely studying the menu items.

The man finally turned to look at him, his mouth opening to order his drink when he ended up merely blinked at him. Fenris could feel him looking at the grayed markings on his skin. He felt a flash of annoyance, "Are you going to order?" he asked rudely. He half expected the man to react in anger. It wasn't hard for Fenris to guess that he was a wealthy and was probably used to be treated with respect.

But the man merely raised a brow at him. He looked curious, and that irked Fenris a lot more. "Sorry," the man said, his voice sounded pleasant; at least, "I'll have an Americano, a large please." He dug into his slacks for his wallet and fished out bills. Fenris punched his order. He moved about, fixing the coffee before the cashier finished printing the receipt. He could feel the man's gaze on him as he prepared the beverage.

"Did you just start working here?" the customer asked.

"Yes."

"What happened to the other one… what was her name again?"

Fenris couldn't understand what about this person rubbed him the wrong way. But he just did. "How would I know?"

"You're awfully grouchy," the tall man chuckled to himself. Fenris glared at him as he placed the cup of coffee on the counter. "And you're awfully annoying," he said in return as the man took the cup and pushed a bill forward.

"Take this," the man was grinning a little as he pushed a small white card together with the money, "Maybe you'll need it someday," his tone was teasing. Fenris would have thought he was flirting if he wasn't already so irritated with the man.

Fenris took the bill and held it in the air on one hand, with all the intention to stash it in the cashier, but his eyes strayed to the thick cardstock calling card that lay on the marble counter.

Garrett Hawke – the name was printed in a large, plain font in the middle of the small white card. Private-practice lawyer. The name was sharp, as if punctuated at every syllable, fitting for the impossibly tall man in a black suit, Fenris mused.

"Hey, excuse me, your change - "

But the man had already closed the café door behind him, crossing the café with a few long strides. Fenris stared as he walked away, vaguely annoyed, vaguely curious; the man had his right hand up, as if waving.

Fenris just didn't know if it was meant for him.

Author's Note: These drabbles are set in more contemporary era. I'm really love how Fenris and Hawke interact and thought it would be interesting to put them into a contemporary situation – especially since the foundation of their relationship makes them such flexible characters. I hope you enjoy reading these drabbles!

I didn't expect this chapter to turn out feeling rather heavy, but then I wanted to give a bit of background for the two characters.