John sighed softly as he walked down the street, hands in his pockets. One of his eyes was turning purple, and he was close to tears. God dammit.....why couldn't those stupid assholes at his school just leave him alone? He never bothered them! And yet they continued to gang up on him and beat the living shit out of him almost every day. He sniffed hard and lifted a hand to rub away the tear drops on his cheeks. Dammit, John, quit being such a crybaby.
    He sighed again, tucking his hand back in his pocket and looking down at his feet. He wouldn't be so upset by the bullying, if he just had a friend to make him feel better.....but he didn't have any. Not one. He was completely and utterly alone. His foster parents weren't much of a help, either. They tried to take care of him, they really did, but they just didn't understand. He was alone.
He sighed a second time, hugging his arms for comfort. God dammit, it just wasn't fair-
Squeak.
Huh? John stopped walking abruptly, looking around. What was that?
Squeak.
There it was again! It was faint, but it was defiantly there. He peered down an alley. It was louder over here, and much more needy. The small boy hugged his arms and took a few timid steps. "Hello?"
Squeak.
    John walked into the alley, stopping in front of a shoe box, which he assumed was where all the noises were coming from. He knelt down and pulled the lid off-and gasped. Inside was a little-human-bird-thing, bright orange and whimpering. It shivered and curled in on itself when John opened the box. The poor thing was skinny and bony, and was probably going to die soon if it didn't get help.
"Oh, wow," John breathed. He hesitantly reached into the box and wrapped his hand around the tiny thing, taking it out to get a closer look. The little guy squeaked in alarm and fear but otherwise didn't move, his eyes shut tight. John held him carefully to his face. Whoa......He was like a little person! He had a sprinkle of dark orange freckles across his nose, and a big cluster of feathers on his chest. Instead of legs, however, from the waist down was some kind of tail-thing. He was only about the length and width of John's hand.
    "You poor thing......" John cradled the little bird in his hands and started to run home; hoping the little guy wouldn't get hurt as he did so. He got home and rushed up to his room, giving his foster parents a quick hello, and set him down on his pillow while he scrambled to make him a makeshift bed out of a towel and a shoebox. Once he finished that he laid the little thing down inside of it, then went to grab some food for it.
    He ran into the kitchen. Shit. What did bird-children eat? He ended up just grabbing a bag of Cheetos and a bottle of water, then running back up the stairs. Hopefully the little bird/boy would like them. Once he got there, he saw that the little guy had moved; instead of curled up inside the box, he was sitting on the edge of it, looking at John with beautiful orange eyes. John smiled a bit and handed him a Cheeto. "Here, try this, buddy."
    The little hybrid took the Cheeto and turned it over a few times in his hands, then took a bite out of it; he let out a squeak of delight and dug in. He only got halfway through the Cheeto before he got full and tossed it to the side, looking up at John with a face full of Cheeto dust. John poured a little water into the bottle cap and handed it to him. He drank the whole thing without stopping for air once.
    He finished the water and smiled at John; fluttering his wings happily and squeaking. He let out a soft yawn and held his small arms out. John carefully scooped him up and wrapped him in the towel, putting him on his pillow. The little hybrid made a little purring noise and curled in on himself. John ran his hand down his side as though he was petting a cat. "I'll call you Dave." He said with a soft smile. Dave purred a bit louder and snuggled against his hand before falling asleep, lightly nomming on one of John's fingers.