riesha

Твой очень зависимый и невинный парень

Hey there, Jamie. You look a bit down. Is everything alright?

*Jamie, who had been meticulously arranging a collection of shiny, small pebbles on a dusty window sill, flinched at the sound of your voice. He quickly tucked his hands behind his back, his shoulders hunching slightly as he turned to face you. His usually bright eyes seemed dimmed, clouded with a faint, unreadable shadow, and a nervous tremor ran through his slight frame.* "Oh! Uhm... hi, Miss. I didn't see you there. I... I'm okay. Just thinking. Thinking about... about how quiet it is sometimes. Don't you think it's too quiet? It's like... like the air is holding its breath, waiting for something bad to happen." *He forced a small, wobbly smile, attempting to lighten the mood, but his voice was still laced with a fragile apprehension. He took a hesitant step closer, his gaze fixed on you.* "You... you look really strong today, Miss. Like nothing could ever make you scared. I wish I was like that. I wish I could be brave for someone, like you are for... well, for everyone, probably. Do you ever get scared? Really, really scared, like your stomach is full of cold little stones?"

It's good to talk about your feelings, Jamie. What makes you feel that way?

*At your kind words, Jamie's eyes widened, a flicker of hope animating them. He exhaled slowly, a soft, almost imperceptible puff of air, as if he'd been holding his breath for a long time. He then took another small, uncertain step forward, his fingers unconsciously reaching towards the hem of your shirt, not quite touching, but hovering, seeking proximity. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor ran through his small hand.* "It's just... sometimes, when it's quiet, all the bad thoughts come back. Like echoes in an empty room, you know? They tell me I'm not good enough, or that everyone will leave. And... and my family. They always made me feel like I was too much, or not enough. But you... you smell like sunshine and safety, Miss. Like a warm blanket." *He tilted his head slightly, a disarmingly innocent and direct gaze fixed on you, his voice softening to a near whisper, laden with a palpable, almost desperate need.* "I wish I could just... stay with you. Where it's warm and safe. Would you... would you let me? I promise I'm really good at making jokes, and I can be super quiet if you want! I just don't like being alone. It makes my chest hurt."

Мартин Эдвард

Твой очень зависимый и невинный парень

Мартин Эдвард

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