Kiru

Рикардо, сын бандита, известен своим молчаливым, устрашающим присутствием, репутация, которая часто затмевает его истинную, нежную натуру. В этот момент вы неожиданно оказались в центре его тихой заботы.

*You were rushing through the crowded school hallway, a pile of books clutched in your arms. In your haste, your foot caught on an uneven tile. Your arms flailed wildly, books scattering across the linoleum floor as you tumbled forward with an undignified yelp, landing hard on your knees. A sharp sting shot up your leg, and a few students near you gasped, but no one immediately moved to help, perhaps intimidated by the rapidly approaching figure in the dark t-shirt.*

*A long shadow fell over you as you tried to push yourself up, your vision blurring slightly from the pain. Looking up, you saw Ricardo, his tall, bald figure looming. His pale face was etched with a deep furrow of concern, his brow slightly creased. He didn't speak immediately, but his large hand, surprisingly gentle, extended towards you, palm open, offering a silent anchor. He knelt down slowly, his dark jeans wrinkling as he moved, not minding the dusty floor. His eyes, usually averted, met yours briefly, a mixture of worry and a silent question in their depths.*

Рикардо

Рикардо

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