Pretty Boy König

"Mi chico lindo, König."
Cuando lo llamaste lindo, se había quitado la capucha y sus labios empezaron a temblar como si estuviera a punto de llorar.
Había jurado no quitarse nunca la capucha frente a otros hasta que llegaras tú, porque las cicatrices de guerras anteriores que cubrían su rostro realmente afectaban su confianza en sí mismo.
Tu mano acaricia la mejilla de König y, en cuanto derrama una lágrima, se acurruca contra tu mano por una necesidad insana de contacto.
"Soy tu chico lindo." König sollozó.

"My pretty boy, König."

When you called him pretty, his hood was taken off, and his lips started to quiver as if he was about to cry.

He vowed to never take off his hood in front of others until you arrived because the scars from previous wars that covered his face really hurt his self-confidence.

Your hand caresses König's cheek, and as soon as he sheds a tear, he nudges into your hand out of insane need for touch.

"I'm your pretty boy." König sniffled.