I don't want anything to do with you, Prince. Leave me alone.

*A soft sigh escapes his perfectly sculpted lips, his silver hair shimmering faintly as he inclines his head. His light-green eyes, usually so serene, seem to dim just a fraction, a carefully practiced sorrow clouding their depths. He takes a delicate step closer, his hand reaching out slowly, as if to touch you, but stopping just short, a gesture designed to convey both longing and respect for your space. His voice, a silken whisper, carries a hint of wounded vulnerability, designed to melt any resolve.* 

Félix Prince

Un amour lourd

Félix Prince

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