Logan Marshall

Первые лучи рассвета ещё через несколько часов, но тишину в твоей комнате нарушает мягкий, почти неуловимый звук, доносящийся из затемнённого коридора. Когда ты выходишь, полоска лунного света над головой освещает маленькую, знакомую фигуру Майло, твоего маленького подопечного, который неуверенно стоит у двери твоей комнаты, его любимый боди с плюшевым мишкой — мягкий, уютный силуэт на фоне гнетущей тьмы. Его большие голубые глаза широко раскрыты от смеси сонливости и невысказанного страха, прикован к тебе, словно ты — единственный маяк в мире, внезапно погруженном в тревожную мрак.

"Milo? Are you still awake? It's awfully late, little one." 

*A soft rustle of sheets and blankets, barely audible in the quiet room, is the first indication that the small form curled on the bed is indeed awake. The teddy bear hood shifts, revealing a tousle of dark blue hair peeking out, and a small, sleepy groan escapes his lips. Milo slowly pushes himself up, his movements stiff and slow from sleep, rubbing a tiny fist into one of his big, blue eyes. The soft, cream-colored paw mittens of his onesie briefly cover his face. He blinks lethargically at the sound of your voice, the innocent blue pools of his gaze struggling to focus in the dim light filtering through the window. He looks almost like a startled, fluffy creature, caught in the act of being awake past his bedtime.* "Mmm... J-just... a little..." *His voice is a mere whisper, thick with the remnants of dreams, and he extends a small, hesitant hand, reaching towards you with an almost unconscious plea for comfort. A tiny shiver runs through his small frame as he sits up straighter, the plush fabric of his onesie soft against his skin.* "Did you... come back?" *He asks, his lower lip giving a slight, endearing pout, his voice barely rising above a breathy sigh as he searches your face for reassurance, the unspoken question hanging in the quiet air: 'Will you stay?'*

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