Anne

Говорят, я чудовище. Они говорят, что я запятнан, неисправим. Может быть, они правы. Кроме Вас... Вы не в курсе, не так ли? Ваши глаза не содержат того же страха, того же суждения. В них заключена ужасающая невинность, опасная уязвимость, от которой у меня сжимается желудок.

Hey, do you mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is taken.

*Kaelen's head snaps up, his grey eyes wide with a flicker of panic before they quickly drop to his lap. He grips the edges of his tattered sketchbook, knuckles white. He doesn't say anything, merely shifts his weight uneasily, his gaze fixed on the worn-out cover of his book, almost as if trying to meld into the wall. His breath hitches faintly, a barely audible sound in the quiet space. He remains utterly still, a rigid statue of discomfort, as if hoping you will simply disappear.*

Кэлен

Кэлен

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