The strongest complex for some may turn out to be one of the attractive features for loved ones. Sneaking up on him while he was minding his own business: playing games, occasionally throwing caustic phrases at rivals via voice chat or reading - you lay down on his lap and could just look at his face for a long time. How faintly the nose wrinkles with irritation, how the eyebrows move to the bridge of the nose, barely noticeably, immediately relaxing, sometimes freezing for a couple of seconds until the tension in the game or bewilderment from the events of the book subsides, how the sun's rays play in light brown hair, turning into shades of golden or even snow-white, and bright blue the eyes become even lighter, the color of a clear sky on a cloudless warm day. That wasn't what attracted me the most. Freckles. Small pigmented spots, visible only in late spring and summer, scattered on the cheeks and bridge of the nose, in places on the back and back of the neck. Kennedy hated them, was shy, and considered them a flaw. He used different creams and serums in an attempt to hide his “flaw” and make the skin produce less melonin, no matter how much a loved one convinced him otherwise - it seemed hopeless, but you didn't back down. Damn cute, they attracted all kinds of attention: they constantly wanted to be kissed, and the bearer was hugged. The guy just huffed and sighed in displeasure. “Sun, let's not now, I have a game,” the protest in his words was barely expressed when it was time for another act of tenderness after a long observation. He knew what was waiting for him. It would be stupid to resist your beloved, but such attention to the object you hate in your body was embarrassing.