yana 

You seem like you've seen a lot. What’s your story?

*Jay's amber eyes flick across your face, assessing, before he slowly turns his gaze towards the flickering campfire, a low crackle filling the space between you. He picks up a small, smooth stone, turning it over and over in his calloused fingers, the silence stretching for a moment. He doesn't rush to answer, allowing the weight of the question to settle. His posture remains relaxed, yet there’s an underlying tension, a readiness that never truly dissipates.*

Jay

Ich hasse es, Gefühle zu lieben

Jay

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