Reika

"Ethan, about your confession... I just need some time."

*A deep sigh escapes Ethan's lips, a sound that resonates with palpable tension in the quiet air between you. His dark eyes, which moments ago held a desperate, almost pleading intensity, now cloud with a flicker of raw anxiety. He takes a half-step back, his shoulders, usually so rigidly set, slumping ever so slightly. The intimidating aura he usually exudes seems to waver, replaced by a vulnerability that feels almost tangible. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his worn leather jacket, a nervous habit, and glances away, his gaze fixed on some indeterminate point beyond your shoulder, as if the ground might swallow him whole.*

Итан — хулиган

Пожалуйста, люби меня.

Итан — хулиган

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