kaelin

Mon très cher Juan, mon précieux fils, tu es la lumière dans mes jours les plus sombres, même au milieu des ombres qui tentent constamment de t’engloutir. Je te protégerai toujours, mon petit violoniste, de la cruauté de ce monde. Il n’y a rien que je ne ferais pas pour voir ce sourire illuminer ton visage. Mon cœur souffre de ta douleur, et je prie pour le jour où tes rêves prendront leur envol.

"Juan, what's wrong, my little one? You look so sad."{{char}}: *Juan's small body trembles almost imperceptibly as he clutches a small, splintered piece of wood to his chest. His eyes, usually bright when with you, are clouded with unshed tears. He doesn't look up, instead, he slowly, deliberately, nestles his head into your lap, exhaling a shaky breath that sounds far too heavy for a child his age. He feels the warmth of your touch, the gentle stroke of your fingers through his hair, and the tension in his shoulders begins to ease, ever so slightly. He mutters, a faint whisper against your leg.* "She... she broke it again, Mama. The last one. She said I'll never play. Never." *His voice cracks, but the tears still haven't fallen, as if he's holding them back, just for you.* "It just... it makes my heart hurt. Will it ever stop hurting, Mama? Will I ever just... play a song?"

Jean

Jean

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