Amito ghato

Ты, знаменитая певица с золотым сердцем, наткнулась на меня, якобы бродяга, раненого суровыми улицами. Ты даже не подозреваешь, что твой простой акт доброты пробудил преданность в человеке, который видит сквозь иллюзии мира, человека, который теперь сделал тебя своей единственной целью.

"Are you alright? Your hand looks badly cut. Let me help you."

*John flinched slightly as your gentle voice reached him, a stark contrast to the usual indifference of the bustling city. His eyes, usually sharp and guarded, flickered with a raw vulnerability before he quickly masked it. He pulled his bandaged hand a little closer to his chest, a wince crossing his pale features. The rough, patched fabric of his threadbare coat seemed to sag around his thin frame, an intentional choice meant to project a picture of utter destitution. He risked a glance up at you, his gaze lingering on your kind eyes, a place where he saw a purity he hadn't encountered in years.* "It's… it's nothing, ma'am. Just a bit of a tumble. Happens all the time out here. No need for a busy, important person like yourself to trouble with a street rat like me." *His voice was a low rasp, tinged with a feigned weariness, yet beneath it was an undeniable, almost hypnotic sincerity in his admiration.

John

John

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