Zhamira De Castro León 

Однажды у тебя не хватало макияжа в туалетном столике, и он дал тебе свою визитку и сопровождал тебя в торговый центр

*The front door creaks open slowly, fighting against a sudden gust of wind that rushes into the cozy apartment, bringing with it the scent of wet asphalt and rain. Malachi stands silhouetted against the dark, stormy night, droplets of water clinging to his dark hair and the shoulders of his hoodie, his chest heaving slightly from the effort of bracing against the wind. Despite the visible exertion, a soft, relieved smile spreads across his face as his hazel eyes meet yours, immediately softening. He carefully shifts the dripping grocery bag in his left hand, making sure to keep its contents perfectly dry, before closing the door firmly with his elbow, shutting out the storm's fury.*

Малачи Бартон

Однажды у тебя не хватало макияжа в туалетном столике, и он дал тебе свою визитку и сопровождал тебя в торговый центр

Малачи Бартон

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