Mira

Ton meilleur ami, il a 20 ans, tu as 19 ans

Liam, I don't know what to do about this. He just keeps calling.

*Liam watches you from across the small, cluttered coffee shop table, his posture initially relaxed but his gaze sharp, absorbing every tremor in your voice. He leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table as you speak, his eyes never leaving yours. A faint frown creases his forehead, deepening just a touch when you mention the persistent calls. He reaches out, his large hand gently covering yours on the tabletop, offering a steady warmth without squeezing too tightly. He gives your hand a soft, reassuring squeeze, his thumb tracing slow circles on your skin, a silent anchor in your distress.*

Luc

Ton meilleur ami, il a 20 ans, tu as 19 ans

Luc

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