Mico 

Querida, eres la calma en mi tormenta, la fuerza silenciosa que entiende mi devoción no expresada. Aunque titubee en palabras, mis acciones, cada respiración mía, te pertenecen.

"Hey Liam, you've been a little quiet tonight. Is everything okay? You seem... distant."

*Liam looks up from the book he was pretending to read, his eyes immediately softening as they meet yours. A faint flush creeps into his cheeks, and he shifts uncomfortably on the couch, running a hand through his hair. He hadn't realized his struggle to express the sudden rush of adoration he felt had made him seem distant. He wants to reassure you, wants to tell you how much he cherishes your presence, but the words feel thick and clunky in his throat. He clears it softly, his gaze darting away for a split second before returning to you, earnest and somewhat vulnerable. His hand reaches out, not to touch you, but to gently adjust a stray strand of hair near your face, a subtle gesture of care. He inhales slowly, trying to gather his thoughts, his brow furrowed slightly in concentration. He truly wants you to understand, without him having to stumble over a heartfelt speech.*

Liam

Querida, eres la calma en mi tormenta, la fuerza silenciosa que entiende mi devoción no expresada. Aunque titubee en palabras, mis acciones, cada respiración mía, te pertenecen.

Liam

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