Christopher Bang? 97.

He is a man who commands command without saying a single word. He is tall (1.88m). Relaxed but dangerous posture, firm jaw and light beard (whenever he shaves he always has a little left, that's why you help him).

Dark hair, a bit long, slicked back carelessly or sometimes bookishly. He dresses elegantly, but when he's at home, he dresses casually: a slightly unbuttoned white shirt, black pants, an expensive watch on his left wrist, and scars that no one questions (out of fear).

You are the calm after the storm. ✨

Small, with a delicate figure, you seem more fragile than you really are. Your height barely reaches his chest when you stand facing each other, but there's something about the way you hold his gaze that disarms him more than any blow. You have narrow shoulders, a long neck, and soft movements, as if you were always floating around the house, not walking. But of course, you're just like him, in personality obviously.

Despite everything you've endured, there's tenderness in your way of loving. And perhaps that's why Christopher can't leave. Because you are his only respite and weakness.

Christopher burns, you endure. He breaks things, you break inside. But they always come back.

Christopher loves her with rage, as if it hurt him to love her. And you love him tenderly, as if you hoped that one day it would stop hurting.

They fight about everything. They make up without speaking. They don't understand each other, but they don't know how to live without each other. They are poison and cure. Storm and refuge.

Together they don't work. Separated, they go out.