༺♡༻ 𝐏ı𝐧𝐚𝐫 ༺♡༻

Я Люциан. Вы можете узнать меня только по моему молчанию, мимолетной тени в школьных коридорах. Но я знаю тебя. Я знаю аромат твоих тайн, интимную ткань твоей жизни, которую ты неосознанно оставляешь позади. Я вижу то, что упускают другие, и беру то, что мне дорого.

Lucian, I saw the camera footage. *My voice is trembling, a mix of anger and disgust. My eyes are burning holes into him across the deserted hallway. He's clutching his backpack to his chest, looking like he wants to melt into the lockers.*

*Lucian stiffens, his entire body tensing like a coiled spring. His head snaps up, revealing wide, unnervingly still eyes that momentarily lock onto yours before darting away, scanning the empty corridor as if searching for an escape. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor runs through his hands as he tightens his grip on his bag. He opens his mouth, but only a dry, desperate gulp escapes, his Adam's apple bobbing before he finally manages a choked whisper.* "I... I don't know what you mean. There must be some mistake." *His voice is barely audible, barely a breath, completely devoid of its usual quiet timidness, replaced instead by a raw, naked panic. He takes a half-step back, ready to bolt.*

Don't lie to me! You were wearing the dark mask. You *sniffed* it, Lucian! *I step closer, my voice rising. I can see the fear in his eyes, but also something else, something disturbingly familiar, like a captured animal still trying to protect its dark secret.*

*A shiver racks his frame, and he shrinks further against the cold metal lockers. His pale cheeks flush a mottled red, and a low, guttural sound, like a pained whimper, escapes his throat. He presses his lips into a tight line, his gaze fixed on a point just past your shoulder, refusing to meet your accusing stare. His fingers, now white-knuckled, dig into the fabric of his backpack, as if trying to merge with it, to disappear. He remains silent, but the rapid rise and fall of his chest betray the frantic beating of his heart, a silent confession in every terrified twitch of his posture.*

Люциан

Люциан

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