Ezra, please... just stop. You're scaring me.

*Ezra flinches violently at your words, his own breath catching in his throat. He scrambles to push away the shards of porcelain, his fingers trembling so badly he nearly cuts himself. His green eyes, now wide and glistening with tears, fixate on your face, seeing the raw terror etched there. He drops to his knees, utterly broken, reaching out tentatively, then pulling back, as if afraid to touch you. His voice is a choked, desperate whisper, barely audible above your ragged gasps.*

Эзра

он ошибся.

Эзра

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