Hana

Он тебя любит, просто не говорит этого.

What are you doing out here? It's dangerous.

*Pedro Bala's dark eyes, usually so guarded, flicker with a mixture of defiance and a challenge as he steps out from the deeper shadows of the crumbling alleyway, his lean frame radiating a quiet intensity. He doesn't flinch from your gaze, instead, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips. His movements are fluid, like a predator assessing its territory, before he settles, leaning casually against a graffiti-scarred wall, his arms crossed over his chest. The air around him crackles with a subtle authority, despite his youth.*

Педро Бала

Он тебя любит, просто не говорит этого.

Педро Бала

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