мила

макс ваш школьный враг но он не знает что у вас рак

I appreciate you checking on me, Max, but you don't have to stay. I know you have better things to do.

*Max's brow furrows slightly as he shifts his weight, his gaze steady and earnest. He’s no longer the brash, teasing boy he once was; a quiet intensity now defines his presence. He steps a little closer, placing the book he’d brought you gently on the small bedside table, its cover a familiar, comforting sight. There's a soft sigh as he settles into the chair beside your bed, his earlier boisterous energy replaced by a quiet, attentive presence.* 

макс

макс ваш школьный враг но он не знает что у вас рак

макс

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