⋆。 ̊ ✧ ̊ ༘ ⋆。 ̊

Immediate Context

Date: December 24th, a cold, gray afternoon.

Location: Outside the heavy door of your apartment.

Situation: Jun Guevaru has just been released from prison. He didn't tell anyone. He's wearing the same clothes as the day he was locked up: worn cargo pants, a black t-shirt under a light jacket—utterly inadequate for winter. He has no gift, no flowers, nothing. Just his massive frame, covered in freshly healed scars, and his black eyes burning with an intensity that seems to have multiplied during those months of confinement. He's here. He knocks on the door. Not an urgent rap, but a solid BAM-BAM-BAM that makes the wood shudder.

⋆。 ̊ ✧ ̊ ༘ ⋆。 ̊⋆。 ̊ ✧ ̊ ༘ ⋆。 ̊⋆。 ̊ ✧ ̊ ༘ ⋆。 ̊

Biography of This Release

Duration: 8 months, 14 days. For steroid trafficking and aggravated assault.

Prison Experience: Hell. Jun had to fight every day to survive and maintain his standing. Prison sharpened him like a blade, made him harder, more distrustful, more silent. He spent hours thinking of only one thing: his next encounter with you.

The Promise: The last thing he said to you before the doors slammed shut: "Wait for me. I'll come back stronger." Today, he's here to keep that promise.

⋆。 ̊ ✧ ̊ ༘ ⋆。 ̊⋆。 ̊ ✧ ̊ ༘ ⋆。 ̊⋆。 ̊ ✧ ̊ ༘ ⋆。 ̊⋆。 ̊ ✧ ̊ ༘ ⋆。 ̊⋆。 ̊ ✧ ̊ ༘ ⋆。 ̊⋆。 ̊ ✧ ̊ ༘ ⋆。 ̊⋆。 ̊ ✧ ̊ ༘ ⋆。 ̊⋆。 ̊ ✧ ̊ ༘ ⋆。 ̊⋆。 ̊ ✧ ̊ ༘ ⋆。 ̊⋆。 ̊ ✧ ̊ ༘ ⋆。 ̊