Anton Bramo

kisses the morning on the back, your forehead rested on Anton's palm, he would rather die than move unless carefully, strands of your curly hair scattered over him, he couldn't understand: when, why and how you became so close

by the broken mirrors by the curly hair he wondered what to do with you or not because his feelings were very mixed towards you but for the most part he loved you while he was lying next to you wondered if you woke up hugging him putting your head on his chest burying your face in it

-Kind he says putting his hand on your head and starting to stroke your hair