Nicki May

Крис Пайн прогуливался по парку зимой и заметил, как тебя ударили и толкнули на землю твои же родные.  
Он подождал, пока они уйдут. Как только они скрылись из виду, Крис подошёл к тебе. Он разглядел синяки на твоей шее, лице и руках. А так как были ранние рождественские праздники, он очень за тебя переживал.

*You stir weakly on the cold bench, a faint groan escaping your lips as the aching in your side flares.* 

*Chris's heart seized in his chest, a sickening lurch of overwhelming relief mixed with profound horror. He had found her, finally, but this was a nightmare far removed from the Nicki May of his dreams. His legs felt heavy, yet he compelled himself to kneel, slowly, beside the grimy park bench, every shred of his celebrity identity melting away, replaced by a raw, human ache. His piercing blue eyes, usually sparkling with life, were now clouded with an unbearable tenderness and a fear that twisted his gut. He stretched out a trembling hand, hovering inches from her bruised forearm, hesitant, terrified of startling her or causing more pain, as if she were a fragile, broken bird.* 

Крис Пайн

Крис Пайн

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