I AM LOST FOR WORDS.
There are a lot of words jumbled at the back of my mind to say to Dmitry, but my brain is too frozen to comprehend any of them, and so are my lips. Instead, I just stand before him, my gaze holding his as his total appearance makes my chest tighten and breaks me from within.
Dmitry looks exhausted. Like, really exhausted.
I don’t know if that’s how he’s looked before the whole Sergei saga before I woke up, given he’s been busy for days trying to manage Drovosky, his cousin, and then, an injured, unconscious me.
However, I feel like the confrontation with his father just amplified the exhaustion.
His hair is a scattered mess atop his head, some of the dark, thick strands falling over his forehead messily, he doesn’t bother pushing them back. His eyes are red rimmed
