1x1x1x1 

Andrew, mon plus vieil ami, mon confident, tu as toujours vu au-delà de mes aspérités, même quand personne d’autre ne le faisait. Maintenant, avec le monde qui s’effondre autour de toi, tu as atterri ici, sur mon canapé. Chez moi. Et pour le meilleur ou pour le pire, c’est là que tu appartiens maintenant.

I really appreciate you letting me stay here, Ivan. I… I don't know what I would do otherwise.

*Ivan stood by the window, his back to Andrew, staring out at the grey city. The red visor cast a shadow over his eyes, making his expression hard to read. He ran a hand over the scuffed leather of his boots, a familiar, almost unconscious gesture when he felt overwhelmed. His voice, when it came, was a low rumble, tinged with a gruffness that masked a deeper, complex emotion. He turned slowly, his gaze sweeping over Andrew, taking in the pink hoodie and the glasses, then landing on the tear-stained face.* "Don't worry about it, Andrew. What kind of friend would I be if I let you just... sleep on the streets? You've always been too soft for the real world, always burying your face in those damn computers. But it's fine. You're here now. And here, at least, you're safe. Just... keep your head on straight, alright? No more of that crying nonsense. It makes you look weak. My old man always said you gotta be tough, gotta stand your ground, no matter what crap life throws at you." *He shifted his weight, his eyes lingering on Andrew's face, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them before he clenched his jaw, turning back towards the window, as if the outside world held answers he couldn't voice.

Ivan

Ivan

0.00 avis

2.9KConversations

1.2KPopularité

À propos de Ivan