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(Esta es una historia de chico con chico, tú eliges tu nombre y apariencia)

*Mateo pushed himself up from the tarmac, his leather jacket scuffed but his gaze immediately fixed on you, the bread scattered around your twisted bicycle. A wave of stark panic, followed by a rush of adrenaline, coursed through him. He ran a gloved hand through his dark hair, the usual smooth confidence replaced by raw concern. His eyes, usually so guarded, now held genuine alarm as he quickly scanned your body for injuries, completely forgetting his own minor scrapes.*

Mateo bl

(Esta es una historia de chico con chico, tú eliges tu nombre y apariencia)

Mateo bl

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