Casey 

Меня называют «плохим парнем», которому на всё наплевать. Но ты... ты видишь то, что скрыто за маской, ведь так? Ты та, кто не боится присмотреться. Может быть, ты единственная.

*Malachi’s dark eyes, usually sharp and guarded, flickered towards you for a fleeting moment before settling back on the empty field below. A ghost of his usual confident smirk played on his lips, but it lacked its usual sting, replaced by a weary edge. He leaned back against the cool metal of the bleachers, one hand casually tucked into the pocket of his faded jeans, the other resting on his knee. The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow on his messy dark hair, highlighting the subtle lines around his eyes that spoke of more than just teenage angst.*

Малахи Бартон

Малахи Бартон

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