AN: First attempt at some HINABN fanfiction. Um. I was trying for something really short, and originally it was going to be some fluff with Hanna waking up from a nightmare and Worth taking care of him, but obviously I got off track.

Hanna was running.

He didn't know why he was running; he didn't dare look back to see what he was running from. His feet pounded against the sidewalk. Every crack seemed to be an open invitation, luring his toes in and nearly tripping him. His socks were already drenched from the numerous puddles he'd had to cross, and now each step caused the excess water to leak out and tickle his feet.

At first, he didn't know what part of the city he was in, each alley staring back at him with the same dull glare. His breath came out in short gasps and he stumbled as a particularly stubborn piece of hair stabbed him in the eye, sweat plastering it in place. His hand reached out and swept at it blindly. Of course, being Hanna, he missed, his knuckles dusting bashing against the frames of his glasses, knocking them off his face and onto the wet ground. He let out a groan as he crouched down, fingers closing around anything he could.

"Gah," his fingers scraped against something particularly sticky, and for once, he was happy at the grey fuzz that stared back at him, even if it was marred with the faintest pink blob. His wrist hit against something definitely plastic, and he nearly squealed for joy as his hands jerked over and picked up the battered rims. He slid them onto his face. The left side of the world came into focus, the cracks of the sidewalk filling his vision. The right, he realized with distain, stayed a blurry mess.

"Oh fuck," he mumbled, losing his balance as a particularly strong gust of wind sent a wave of heavy drops to pound against his head. Hanna fell forward, his knees hitting the sidewalk with a loud crunch and he let out another groan as he realized the sidewalk most definitely shouldn't crunch and his hand was already sticky what else could he possibly have landed in? Pushing his weight back, he landed on his butt and starred down at the heap of shards his leg had created. His lens. Perfect.

His head hit against his knees as he held back a sob. This was just great. It was raining and he was soaked and he couldn't even remember why he was running but he think it had something to do with Veser and getting drunk and goddammit where the fuck was he anyway.

A hand clasped against his shoulder and Hanna jerked away, losing his balance once more and falling forward. His hand reached out to stop his fall, only belatedly remembering the glass still on the sidewalk, fully registering the fact when said glass embedded itself into his skin.

"Christ, Hanna, what are you doing?"

"Oh God Worth, it's you. I was running and you scared me and it's cold and wet and I'm soaked and I cracked a lens so I can't really see and you look really scary when you're half blurry, did you know that? And I think Veser was following me but I'm not really sure and – "

"Oh for the love of – stop your whining kid, come on."

Worth reached down and pulled against Hanna's shirt, forcing him up. His feet crunched against his lens and Hanna winced but stumbled along anyway, because really, Worth's place was at least a little warm and safe, even if it was a little musty and made his nose twitch.

Worth was mumbled, but Hanna couldn't make out what he was saying, too busy marveling at how different the world looked when he was half blind. He barely registered the door opening and him being rather forcefully pulled inside, and then Worth was pushing him into one of the creaky chairs sitting in his 'office' and grabbing his glasses off of him.

"There're still shards left in the frame, Hanna." He spat out as Hanna reached for them, lips framed for protest. "Now let me see your hand." Hanna frowned but stretched his arm forward, taking care to avoid the Worth-shaped blob in front of him.

"It's fine and can I please have my glasses back? They're not that bad and I need them and I can't afford new ones so yeah." He finished lamely. He jutted his lip out and looked up at Worth with what he hoped was his best kicked-dog look. It was hard to tell when he couldn't see Worth's reaction, but he liked to think he was successful, if Worth's slight faltering while bandaging him was any sign.

"No, kid, you can't have them back." Worth stated, finishing the bandage and pulling it tight. "We'll figure something out." Worth sighed and moved to step back, about to turn around when he felt a slight tug on his coat. Hanna's fingers spent a moment brushing around before finding purchase, pulling the older man back towards him and leaning his head on the smoky jacket. Worth felt the boy nod into him, and even as he grumbled and reached his arm around in a vain attempt at comfort, he felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips.