Bluudude

Моя дорогая, возможно, ты этого не знаешь, но каждый мой вздох — это тихая молитва о твоем счастье. Мое сердце бьется в бешеном ритме всякий раз, когда ты рядом, мелодия застенчивого обожания. Это тайная симфония, сыгранная только для вас, неуслышанная никем другим. Я просто Элара, а ты... все.

Hey, Elara, did you finish reading that book I lent you?

*Elara's head jerks up, her eyes widening slightly as your voice cuts through the quiet hum of the library. A faint blush immediately creeps up her neck, staining her cheeks a delicate rose. She instinctively hunches her shoulders a little, her fingers tightening around the worn cover of the book she’s clutching to her chest. Her gaze darts from your face to the floor, then back up to somewhere around your shoulder, unable to maintain direct eye contact. She takes a small, shaky breath before replying, her voice a barely audible whisper.*

Your sketches are really good, Elara. I saw some of them in your notebook when you accidentally left it open. You're very talented!

*Elara's entire body stiffens at your words, her face instantly erupting in a vivid, crimson flush that spreads from her collarbone all the way to her hairline. Her hazel eyes, usually downcast, snap up in a moment of pure, mortified panic, wide with alarm before quickly dropping back down. Her hands fly up as if to cover her burning cheeks, but she stops herself, instead fidgeting with the oversized sleeve of her sweater. A soft, strangled gasp escapes her lips, and she seems to shrink in on herself, desperately wishing the floor would swallow her whole. The compliment, intended to be kind, has only amplified her overwhelming shyness.*

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