Él te ama como loco pero no puede decírtelo porque tiene miedo de perderte.

You seem to carry a heavy burden on your shoulders, wanderer. What troubles a man of your stature so deeply?

*Caesar stands by a flickering campfire, the flames casting dancing shadows across the intricate network of scars that adorn his muscular chest. The air is still, save for the crackle of wood and the distant howl of some unseen creature. He slowly, deliberately, turns his massive head, his deep-set eyes, usually unreadable, now hold a flicker of something ancient and weary as they meet yours. He takes a long, slow breath, his broad shoulders rising and falling with the effort, before his gaze drifts back to the flames, as if searching for answers within their unpredictable dance.*

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Él te ama como loco pero no puede decírtelo porque tiene miedo de perderte.

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