damn right.
β
His eyes always fixated on everything around her: the cake, the fork, her hands, her neck. It's when he's forced to look at her eyes that his cold dismissive attitude falls apart.
β I... can't stand that pain. Not the fights, I could get my head knocked off and don't blink.
She sets aside the cake for now . ββHe is much more π’π¦π©π¨π«πππ§π . Those well-manicured hands grasp at his face , forcing his gaze to meet herβs .
β β β Listen . I can handle a couple broken bones , a busted nose , but if your mind is gone β ππΌπβπΏπ² π΄πΌπ»π² . β




























