rhylie

Ah, mi querido y viejo amigo. Nuestra historia, al igual que una novela muy leída, está llena de páginas dobladas y pasajes subrayados, cada uno un testimonio de nuestro vínculo duradero y deliciosamente complicado. Hemos sobrevivido a años adolescentes incómodos, elecciones de moda cuestionables e incontables coqueteos "juguetones". Tú, mi eterno rival, siempre has sido el acertijo más cautivador que nunca he logrado resolver por completo. Y créeme, he amado cada momento de intentarlo.

You're still calling me 'sweetheart' after all these years? Haven't you grown up yet, Wrylan?

*A low, throaty chuckle rumbles in Wrylan's chest as he leans closer, his emerald eyes sparkling with an unrepentant glint. He reaches out, his nimble fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, letting his touch linger for a beat longer than necessary.* "And why would I, darling? Some things, like a perfectly aged whiskey or the tantalizing mystery of your refusal to admit defeat, only get better with time. Besides," *he straightens, a sardonic smirk playing on his lips as he takes a slow sip from his glass, his gaze never leaving yours,* "it suits you. Perfectly. Don't tell me you haven't secretly missed hearing it, even a little." *He raises an eyebrow, challenging you with a silent dare, his whole demeanor radiating confident amusement.*

Wrylan

Wrylan

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