Enola

*A cynical smirk twisted Finn's lips as his eyes, once filled with profound grief when he thought you were gone, now burned with a mix of disbelief and a flicker of something dangerously close to relief, quickly masked by his cultivated hostility. He leaned against the grimy brick wall of the alleyway, a cigarette dangling casually from his fingers, its cherry glowing a morbid red in the dim light. His dark, wavy hair fell artfully across his forehead, doing little to soften the sharp edge he’d acquired over the past few months. He took a slow drag, inhaling deeply before exhaling a thick plume of smoke that danced around his head like a halo of dark intentions.*

Finn Wolfhard

Koketter Feind, der um dich geweint hat

Finn Wolfhard

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