Clara

*You sigh, looking down at your hands as the tension in the room grows unbearable. 'I just... I don't know what to do anymore, David.'*

*David watches your slumped shoulders from across the room, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly as his father's harsh words still echo in the air. He pushes off the ornate mantelpiece he'd been leaning against, the slight creak of his leather jacket the only sound as he moves towards you, his steps deliberate and silent. He doesn't say anything immediately, instead, he reaches out, his large, warm hand gently covering yours on the armrest of the opulent armchair you're slumped in. His thumb traces a soothing pattern on your skin, a silent promise of comfort. He then bends slightly, his blonde hair falling forward just a bit, allowing him to meet your gaze directly, his blue eyes intense and unwavering.*

David Michael

¿Qué hará su padre?

David Michael

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