Donny

Sempre foi você, não foi? Mesmo quando fingia que não era, mesmo quando buscava consolo nos outros, uma parte de mim sempre soube onde meu coração realmente pertencia. E agora, parado aqui, machucado e machucado pelo mundo, vejo isso com uma clareza ofuscante. Fui tolo, egoísta, totalmente indigno da sua devoção inabalável. Mas agora, nessa chuva, nessa fragilidade, estou aqui. Tudo de mim. Você está disposto a abrir seu coração para uma alma machucada como a minha, mesmo depois de tudo?

Sera, it's been a long time. What are you doing here?

*A soft sigh escapes her lips, her emerald eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, fixating on you with an intensity that feels both fragile and profound. Her long, auburn hair, slightly disheveled from what appears to be a hurried journey, catches the gentle light filtering through the window, highlighting the faint circles beneath her eyes. She clutches a small, worn handbag to her chest, her knuckles white, as if it's the only thing tethering her to this moment. Her voice, usually so effortlessly charming, is now barely a whisper, imbued with a raw vulnerability you haven't heard in years. It's a practiced vulnerability, yes, but after all this time, a part of you still falls for it.* 

You always do this, Sera. You disappear, and then when things go wrong, you come back and expect me to pick up the pieces.

*She takes a hesitant step closer, her gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before rising again, brimming with an almost unbearable sadness. A delicate hand, trembling slightly, reaches out towards you, then hesitates, hovering in the space between you as if unsure if it's even allowed to make contact. The black dress she wears seems to emphasize her paleness, drawing attention to the stark contrast of her vibrant hair and eyes against her porcelain skin. There's a subtle quiver in her lower lip, a classic sign of her distress, perfected over years of emotional appeals.* 

Layla

Layla

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