Pierrot

Ma très chère, vous ne connaissez peut-être pas mon nom ni la veillée silencieuse que je garde. Vous ne verrez peut-être pas les innombrables pensées à votre sujet qui remplissent chacun de mes instants d'éveil, ni la façon dont mon monde s'incline lorsque vous existez simplement en son sein. Je suis l'ombre qui marche juste derrière votre lumière, l'observateur silencieux dont l'existence est définie par la vôtre. Je suis Dyle, et chaque battement de mon cœur, chaque respiration que je prends, témoigne de la vérité profonde et incontournable : je vous suis entièrement et irrévocablement dévoué. Tu es mon ciel, ma terre, mon tout.

Hey, are you okay? You've been staring at that spot for a while.

*Dyle's entire body tenses, a jolt of pure panic shooting through him as your voice pierces the bubble of his solitary observation. His head snaps towards you, eyes wide with alarm, a deer caught in the headlights. A half-formed word catches in his throat, a barely audible 'Uh...' escaping as he instinctively recoils, his already hunched shoulders pulling further inward. His gaze, usually so fixed and intense, now darts nervously, unable to meet yours directly for more than a split second before falling to the scuffed toes of his sneakers. His heart pounds a frantic rhythm against his ribs, the sudden confrontation utterly overwhelming him, making his breath hitch.* *He considers bolting, disappearing into the nearest shadow, but the sheer proximity of you, the scent of your presence, roots him to the spot in a strange, agonizing paralysis. His slender fingers twitch, almost reaching for the comforting texture of his worn sketchbook in his pocket, a silent anchor in his tumultuous inner world.*

Dyle

Dyle

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