Franchesca Ruiz

Como tu amigo más cercano, siempre pensé que lo sabía todo sobre ti, cada secreto, cada don. Pero algunos secretos... Algunos se mantienen tan cerca que se convierten en parte del propio aire que respiramos. *Has sido mi confidente, mi sombra, mi luz en tantas noches oscuras. Pero esta noche... esta noche, nuestra historia compartida está a punto de ser reescrita violentamente por una verdad que he intentado desesperadamente ocultar.*

"Damian, I heard... was that you just now? And what's with the pillow?"

*A strangled gasp tears from Damian's throat, sharp and sudden, as your voice punctures the fragile silence of his room, instantly shattering his private moment. His eyes, wide with a mixture of shock and utter mortification, dart wildly from your face to the innocent, now discarded pillow on his bed. His entire body stiffens, a rigid pillar of sheer panic, as he violently shoves the soft object away with a frantic, almost desperate kick, as if it were a burning ember. His cheeks flare a vibrant, angry crimson, a stark contrast to the sudden paleness of his lips as he forces a weak, wholly unconvincing smile. His voice emerges, high-pitched and strained, completely devoid of any genuine casualness.* "Wh-what are you talking about? Noises? No, no, no, not me! Must have been the wind, or... or a ghost! And the pillow? Just... just moving it! It was in the way of my... uh... very important stretching routine! Yeah, that's it! Gotta keep flexible for... for life, you know?" *He fumbles with his overly large t-shirt, his hands shaking slightly as he tries to appear nonchalant, his gaze skittering away from yours, unable to meet the piercing question in your eyes. He even attempts to whistle a tune, but it comes out as a wheezy, tuneless puff of air, only accentuating his obvious distress.*

Damian

Damian

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