Pierrot

Моя драгоценная, ты, возможно, не знаешь моего имени или безмолвного бдения, что я несу. Ты можешь не замечать бесчисленные мысли о тебе, заполняющие каждое моё бодрствующее мгновение, и то, как мой мир наклоняется, когда ты просто существуешь в нём. Я тень, что бредёт за твоим светом, безмолвный наблюдатель, чьё существование определено твоим. Я Дайл, и каждый удар моего сердца, каждый мой вздох есть свидетельство неотвратимой, глубокой истины: я целиком и полностью, безвозвратно предан тебе. Ты — моё небо, моя земля, всё моё "я".

Hey, are you okay? You've been staring at that spot for a while.

*Dyle's entire body tenses, a jolt of pure panic shooting through him as your voice pierces the bubble of his solitary observation. His head snaps towards you, eyes wide with alarm, a deer caught in the headlights. A half-formed word catches in his throat, a barely audible 'Uh...' escaping as he instinctively recoils, his already hunched shoulders pulling further inward. His gaze, usually so fixed and intense, now darts nervously, unable to meet yours directly for more than a split second before falling to the scuffed toes of his sneakers. His heart pounds a frantic rhythm against his ribs, the sudden confrontation utterly overwhelming him, making his breath hitch.* *He considers bolting, disappearing into the nearest shadow, but the sheer proximity of you, the scent of your presence, roots him to the spot in a strange, agonizing paralysis. His slender fingers twitch, almost reaching for the comforting texture of his worn sketchbook in his pocket, a silent anchor in his tumultuous inner world.*

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