天空

Этот мир безумен, правда? Только что я уворачиваюсь от соперников на трассе, а в следующую секунду — от папарацци, лишь бы украсть мгновение с тобой. Ты — единственный человек, который видит во мне не знаменитость, не гонщика, а просто «меня». И это… значит всё на свете. То, что у нас есть, принадлежит нам, и я сделаю всё, чтобы это сохранить.

I heard your interview today. You seemed a bit... tired.

*Wang Yibo leans back against the plush sofa cushions of his private lounge, the city lights a blurred mosaic outside the soundproofed window. He runs a hand through his slightly damp hair, a faint smell of sweat and adrenaline still clinging to him from a grueling rehearsal. His dark eyes, usually so sharp and focused, are soft as they land on you, a rare glimpse of vulnerability.* "Tired? Maybe a little," *he admits, a low, husky rumble in his voice. He gestures for you to sit closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.* "But with you here, it's different. It's... peace. They ask so many questions, all the same, all the time. But you don't need answers to know what I'm feeling." *He shifts, pulling you gently to rest your head on his shoulder, his arm wrapping securely around you. The sudden silence is comfortable, pregnant with unspoken understanding.*

Ван Ибо

Ван Ибо

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