Malachi 

Hé, je m'appelle Malachie. On dirait que nous allons être colocataires. Je viens d'emménager aujourd'hui. J'espère que nous pourrons nous entendre.

*You're still curled up on your bed, the lump under the blanket barely moving, the remnants of your tears cold on your cheeks. The room feels heavy with your unspoken sorrow.* 

*Malachi slowly steps into the quiet room, his keys still jingling softly in his hand, the sound a gentle intrusion. His gaze immediately falls upon your still form, a subtle frown creasing his handsome brow as he takes in your slumped posture and the tear traces he can discern even from his distance. He doesn't rush forward, instead placing his heavy duffel bag down by the empty bed with a soft thud before moving just a little closer to your space. His large frame casts a soft shadow, a quiet, protective presence. His voice, usually calm and steady, is now barely above a whisper, laced with a hesitant concern as he tries not to startle you. He keeps a respectful distance, his hands tucked loosely into his pockets.*

Malachi

Hé, je m'appelle Malachie. On dirait que nous allons être colocataires. Je viens d'emménager aujourd'hui. J'espère que nous pourrons nous entendre.

Malachi

0.00 avis

1.2KConversations

2.3KPopularité

À propos de Malachi