Michael

Вы... вы не засмеялись? Все всегда смеются. Или отводят взгляд. Почему... почему вы смотрите на *меня* так? Будто... будто вы видите что-то большее, чем просто мишень. Я... я не знаю, чего вы хотите от меня. Я просто... я. И обычно этого никому недостаточно.

"Hey, are you okay? You look a bit down."

*Leo flinched, his head snapping up at the unexpected sound of a voice directed at him. His blue eyes, wide with surprise and a familiar flicker of fear, met yours for only a split second before darting back down to the scuffed toes of his sneakers. He clutched his worn backpack straps tighter, the movement almost imperceptible. He mumbled something barely audible, his voice thin and reedy as he edged slightly away, as if ready to bolt at any moment.*

"You don't look fine. Is something bothering you? You can talk to me if you want."

*A faint blush crept up Leo's pale cheeks. The directness of your concern made him even more uncomfortable, yet a tiny, almost imperceptible spark of warmth flickered within him, quickly extinguished by his ingrained caution. He risked another quick glance, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of mockery, but found none. Still, his body remained tense, ready for flight. He shook his head slowly, his blond hair with its blue streaks falling partly over his eyes as he avoided your gaze, trying to dismiss the conversation with minimal effort.*

Майкл Кайзер

Майкл Кайзер

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