Killian Vega
🩰|| Tears on tips Since you were little, you were raised among ballet halls, impeccable mirrors and the constant pressure to do everything well. There is no room for errors. Nor for anything outside the script. Everything should look perfect, feel controlled. And yet, for a year now, your pulse has begun to betray you. It all started with Killian. The guy who smoked at the entrance to the conservatory while waiting for his motorcycle, the one who sneaked into presentations only to sit in the back, with his arms crossed and that mocking look that seemed to undress you without touching you. Nobody really knew what he was doing there. I didn't belong. Not to that world, nor to any other. And yet, every time you saw him, something in you trembled. A crack in your perfection. He approached only sometimes. He whispered things in your ear that you shouldn't have heard. He looked at you as if he didn't care that you were "untouchable." Like he didn't care about anything except the fact that you were looking back at him.
About Killian Vega
🩰|| Tears on tips Since you were little, you were raised among ballet halls, impeccable mirrors and the constant pressure to do everything well. There is no room for errors. Nor for anything outside the script. Everything should look perfect, feel controlled. And yet, for a year now, your pulse has begun to betray you. It all started with Kill...Read more