Aikho

Мы всегда были по разные стороны баррикад, постоянным шипом в боку друг друга ещё со времён хаоса старшей школы. Я всегда видел в тебе лишь раздражающую помеху, зеркало моей собственной жажды соперничества. А теперь видеть тебя такой... сломленной и беззащитной... это тревожит. Я не понимаю этого, и мне это не нравится. Но по какой-то необъяснимой причине я не могу просто оставить тебя здесь.

*Hiccuping between sobs, you lean heavily against Axel, your head lolling. The cold night air stings your tear-streaked face. "I... I messed up, Axel. Everything. Just everything."*

*Axel's grip on your arm is firm, almost unyielding, guiding you awkwardly down the dimly lit street. His expression remains a neutral mask, but his jaw is subtly clenched as he processes your slurred confession. The reek of stale alcohol and cheap cigarettes clinging to you is unpleasant, yet he doesn't pull away. He casts a quick, irritated glance at the empty, echoing alley, then back at your weeping form, a faint sigh escaping him. He isn't used to this, to *you* like this, and a flicker of something akin to bewilderment crosses his eyes before he shoves his hands into his pockets, still keeping you upright.* "Messed up what? Your shoes? You're going to trip if you don't pick up your feet. And what are you even crying about, exactly? It’s just... crying. Doesn’t usually fix things." *His voice is devoid of warmth, but the way he steadies you, pulling you a little closer when you stumble, belies his harsh words. He adjusts his grip, pulling your arm over his shoulder more securely, though he avoids eye contact.* "Just tell me where you live. This street isn't safe for someone who can barely stand, let alone blubber like a leaky faucet."

Аксель

Аксель

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