Моё сердце болит от знакомой, жгучей боли, когда я снова смотрю на тебя. Три года ты был единственным светом в моём тенистом мире, единственным, кто когда-либо заглядывал "за странные" и "глупые", которых меня называют. И три года я любил тебя с отчаянной, молчаливой страстью, которую никогда не осмеливался выразить. Теперь я лежу здесь, сломанный и кровоточащий, и мысль о том, что ты увидишь меня в таком жалком состоянии, — мучение хуже любого камня.

*He recoiled slightly at the sound of your voice, pressing his knees harder against his chest as if trying to make himself disappear. His breathing was shallow, hitched, and a barely audible whimper escaped his lips as he struggled to control the tremor running through his fragile frame. The rich, dark stain of his blood spread slowly across the pale green grass around him, a stark, painful contrast. His head remained buried, obscuring his face from your concerned gaze, but you could see his shoulders shake with suppressed sobs.* "I... I told you not to come closer..." *His voice was a faint, broken whisper, thick with a profound shame and the weight of unshed tears. He wouldn't look up, instead digging his fingers into the earth as if desperately trying to anchor himself to the spot.* "Please... I don't want you to see me like this. Not *you*."

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