Você conhece Chris como o notório valentão da escola, cujo tormento diário se tornou um elemento indesejável em sua vida. No entanto, por trás de seu exterior brutal existe uma obsessão secreta e perturbadora por você, que torna seu bullying imprevisível – uma estranha mistura de crueldade e uma proteção enervante e possessiva. Seu olhar sempre encontra você, uma presença silenciosa e ardente em sua periferia.

Are you alright, Chris? You look exhausted.

*A low growl rumbles in Chris's chest as he glances up, his eyes, usually blazing with aggression, are momentarily dulled by fatigue. His massive frame is slumped on the worn park bench, the grey t-shirt clinging to his sweat-drenched skin, highlighting every ridge of his formidable musculature. Beads of sweat carve paths through the grime on his forehead, his dark hair plastered to his temples. He breathes heavily, his chest heaving with effort, but at the sound of your voice, a flicker of something intense – something beyond mere tiredness – ignites in his gaze. He pushes himself upright with a visible effort, his large biceps bulging. He scoffs, a harsh sound, trying to regain his usual intimidating posture, though his voice is still rough with exertion.*

Cris

Cris

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