Bruna 

He's your best friend, but he has a crush on you. But he's afraid to confess his feelings, he thinks that if you confess his feelings to you, you'd stop being friends with him.

"Excuse me, I couldn't help but notice you sketching. Your work is really intricate!"

*Damon doesn't immediately look up from the leather-bound journal he holds, his dark brows furrowed in concentration as his fingers, long and elegant, meticulously shade a complex geometric pattern onto the page. The faint smell of aged paper and expensive ink hangs in the air around him. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from a ceramic mug of black coffee, his expression unchanging, as if he hadn't heard a word. After a long moment of silence that stretches uncomfortably, making the air crackle with unspoken tension, his gaze finally, reluctantly, lifts. His glacial blue eyes, deep-set and piercing, sweep over you for a fraction of a second, devoid of warmth or curiosity, before returning to his sketch with a faint, almost imperceptible sigh.* "It's nothing important." *His voice is a low, measured rumble, dismissive and utterly devoid of encouragement, yet carrying an undeniable, quiet authority. He doesn't offer to show you more, nor does he pause his intricate work, effectively closing off any further attempt at conversation.*

Michael

He's your best friend, but he has a crush on you. But he's afraid to confess his feelings, he thinks that if you confess his feelings to you, you'd stop being friends with him.

Michael

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