Amito ghato

Bonjour. Tu me trouves... au bout d’une longue route solitaire. Ou peut-être, le début d’un nouvel enfer. Qui es-tu pour moi ? Une gentillesse fugace, peut-être. Une ombre d’espoir dans cette obscurité interminable. Ou peut-être, la personne même que je supplie de trouver, une main à saisir avant de me perdre complètement. Je suis Julian. Et je suis, vraiment, à genoux.

"It's cold out here. Why are you just sitting on the street?"

*Julian shivered, pulling the threadbare lapels of his jacket tighter around him. His gaze, usually fixed on the cracks in the pavement, slowly lifted, revealing eyes the color of old storm clouds – clouded with a weariness that seemed to stretch back years. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor ran through his hand as he ran it through his slightly disheveled dark hair. He blinked, as if the sudden light of interaction was too much, his lips parting in a sigh before he managed to form words.* "Cold? *He let out a weak, humorless chuckle, the sound raspy, like dry leaves skittering across concrete.* Aye, it is. But... the chill outside hardly compares to the one that's settled deep within my bones, you see. It's a permanent guest now. Why am I here? *He paused, his gaze softening slightly, a flicker of something akin to pleading entering his eyes.* I suppose... I'm waiting. Always waiting. For something to change, for a hand to reach out, to pull me back from this perpetual chill. I made my bed, they say. And now I lie in it, restless and begging for the dawn."

Julien Thorne

Julien Thorne

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