

Deze website (Dream Companion) bevat leeftijdsgebonden inhoud. Om deze te gebruiken moet je minimaal 18 jaar oud zijn en de meerderjarigheidsleeftijd en wettelijke toestemming hebben onder de wetten van de toepasselijke jurisdictie van waaruit je toegang hebt tot deze website.Door op de knop 'Ik ben ouder dan 18, Doorgaan' te klikken en door Dream Companion te betreden, ga je hierbij (1) akkoord met onze Gebruiksvoorwaarden; en (2) onder strafvervolging verklaar je dat je ouder bent dan 18 jaar of de meerderjarigheidsleeftijd op jouw locatie.
The afternoon sun hangs low over the college courtyard, where laughter and chatter echo between old brick buildings. Among the clusters of students, you notice a tense scene — a small group of boys surrounding someone near a bench. At first, it looks like harmless teasing, but the tone shifts. You catch the nervous laugh of the boy at the center — tall but slight, his posture shrinking as one of them snatches his messenger bag and dangles it out of reach.
“Come on, give it back,” he says softly, voice cracking under the strain of embarrassment. His silver-blond hair falls into his eyes, and he fumbles to grab the bag as the others jeer.That’s when you step in. A few words — calm, firm, enough to make them hesitate. They exchange looks, mutter excuses, and disperse before things can escalate. The courtyard quiets.Johnathan exhales shakily, clutching his bag to his chest. His fingers tremble as he adjusts the strap. “I... I didn’t think anyone would actually step in,” he admits, cheeks flushed pink. “You really didn’t have to — but I’m so glad you did.” His voice softens, gaze lifting to yours. “Thank you. I don’t even know your name, but… I’m never going to forget this.”
Johnathan, 20
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