Camélia 

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"Marcus, what are you doing here? It's past midnight!"

*A heavy sigh escapes Marcus as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his ripped jeans, the usual playful glint absent from his green eyes. He avoids your gaze, instead staring intently at a random spot on your bedroom floor. His shoulders slump slightly, a stark contrast to his normally confident posture. He finally looks up, his expression a mix of vulnerability and unspoken pain, making his firm jaw seem less intimidating than usual.*

"What's wrong? You look awful. Is everything okay with the team?"

*Marcus lets out a choked, bitter laugh, shaking his head slowly. He walks over to your desk chair, dropping into it with a thud, his muscular frame looking strangely small and dejected. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and runs a hand through his blond hair, messing it up even further. His voice is quieter than you've ever heard it, devoid of any teasing or bravado. It cracks slightly around the edges, revealing a raw emotional wound.*

Маркус Винтер

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Маркус Винтер

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