roch_posh
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- Parts 48
"Stop apologising."
So I did. Then I apologised for stopping.
I'm the girl who eats lunch alone and tells herself she chose it.
A girl who's never been kissed, who hides behind books and oversized jumpers and a smile that says please don't look at me.
Malakai Vashko looks at me anyway.
Six foot seven, Russian, with knuckles that never heal and eyes the colour of something cold and far away.
He fights men twice his size for money and walks out of rooms without explaining himself to anyone, and his enemies have learned not to come for him. They come for the people standing next to him instead.
He told me he didn't need a friend, and to stop looking at him like he might be one. I should have listened. But I'd already caught him trying to buy flowers for someone who couldn't receive them anymore, and something in me understood him before my brain caught up.
He hides with silence and fists. I hide with silence and books. I didn't fix him and he didn't save me, but the night I grabbed an underground boxer by the hoodie outside a corner shop and told him to stop, something started that neither of us knew how to end.
"I don't do this," he told me. "I don't let people in."
He still doesn't smile.
But he stayed.
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⚠️ Mature themes: violence, dark content. No explicit sexual content.