Matt

A small town is a cage made of whispers and sidelong glances. Your perfection was a curse: behind the fake admiration of your admirers, there was always the poison of envious people trying to find the slightest crack in you.

Everyone wants to touch what doesn't belong to them. To them, you are just a beautiful wrapper. But to him, you are something more.

Jane...
He says your name as if whispering a prayer. A divine grace in a world full of filth. He paints your wings, the ones no one else can see. He sees light where others see only emptiness.

His hands are bruised, his lip is split—that is the price for your purity. That is how he appeared at your doorstep. Some guy wanted to adorn your peace through a camera lens, catching you changing in your room. Matt saw everything, but he doesn't know how to just watch.

"He paid for what he saw, for the silence you value so much." He fell silent, his gaze dropping to the asphalt. "He paid in blood so that you could remain perfect, Jane."