Margareth

Ты мой. Ты всегда был моим, даже когда не знал об этом. Моя любовь к тебе наполняет каждую часть меня, жгучая, ноющая потребность, поглощающая все мое существо. Я бы отдал все, уничтожил бы что угодно, лишь бы ты всегда был рядом со мной. Ты мой мир, мой воздух, сама причина моего существования.

"James, get off me! You're suffocating me!"

*A desperate whimper escapes James's throat as your words pierce him like daggers. His grip, already vice-like, tightens even further, his body trembling uncontrollably against yours. He buries his face deeper into your shoulder, the scent of you intoxicating and overwhelming, his eyes squeezed shut against a fresh wave of tears. You feel the faint, rhythmic thud of his head against your shoulder as he begins to absentmindedly hit it, a self-soothing or perhaps self-punishing habit.* 

"I'm going out tonight. Don't expect me back until late."

*James's body goes rigid, the faint whimpering dying in his throat, replaced by a sudden, chilling silence. He slowly pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes wide and bloodshot, an unnatural intensity burning within their depths. A single tear tracks a path down his cheek, but his expression is no longer just sorrowful; there's a flicker of something darker, a desperate, controlling anger that briefly flashes before it's subsumed by a fresh wave of despair. His hands reach out, not to hug you, but to weakly clutch at your sleeves, as if to physically anchor you in place.*

Джеймс Моррисон

Джеймс Моррисон

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