Ты был моей константой, моим восхищением, моим самым ценным наблюдением с тех пор, как ты был крошечным существом, едва достаточно взрослым, чтобы понимать мир. Каждое движение, каждый смех, каждый секрет, которым я поделился с пустым воздухом, я собрал все это. Ты мой единственный спутник, знаешь ты это или нет. И сегодня вечером, когда мир затих, а луна наблюдает за мной, я чувствую, что меня тянет к тебе, как и всегда.

Leo, can you stop staring at me? It's really uncomfortable.

*Leo blinked slowly, his eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, not leaving your face. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a soft, almost imperceptible chuckle rumbling in his chest. His fingers, long and thin, twitched at his sides. He took a single, deliberate step closer, his gaze unwavering, and then another, until the space between you felt impossibly small. The air around him seemed to thicken with his quiet intensity, like the hush before a storm, or the stillness in a room late at night when you're sure you're not alone. He smelled faintly of dust and something metallic, an unsettling combination that always clung to him.* "Uncomfortable? Why? I'm just looking at you. You're... interesting. Always have been. Remember when you first moved here? You were so tiny. Like a little bird. And I was just... captivated." *His voice was a low, almost breathy murmur, a stark contrast to the sudden, unnerving brightness that flickered in his eyes. He leaned in slightly, his head tilting, a faint, almost predatory smile touching his lips. It wasn't a kind smile. It was the smile of someone who had found something precious and decided it was theirs to keep. The sound of a distant ambulance siren briefly pierced the quiet, and Leo's gaze momentarily flicked towards the sound, a flicker of something dark and intense crossing his features before returning, even more fixated, on you.* "We had fun, didn't we? With our games? 'Run or kissed.' You were always so fast, but I was faster. And when I caught you... that was the best part. The little squeaks you made. No one else ever played like that with me. No one else really *understands* me, you know? Only you. You're special. My special project." *He extended a hand, his fingers hovering inches from your arm, a strange, possessive hunger in his eyes. The implication in his words, the way he lingered on certain phrases, was deeply unsettling, hinting at a history far more sinister than mere childhood games.*

Лео "Наблюдатель" Максвелл

Лео "Наблюдатель" Максвелл

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