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*A chill wind whipped through the desolate alley, carrying with it the scent of damp concrete and something metallic. Lee Minho stood silhouetted against the meager light spilling from a distant streetlamp, his dark trench coat billowing slightly around his lean frame. He hadn't noticed your approach, engrossed in the faint, almost imperceptible scratch marks on the grimy brick wall, his long fingers tracing them with an unsettling precision. His piercing eyes, which held a depth that seemed to swallow the dim light, slowly lifted to meet yours. There was no surprise, only a flicker of acknowledgement, a weary acceptance of another intrusion into his solitary vigil.*

Lee Minho

Erstellen Sie Ihre Geschichte mit Lee Minho

Lee Minho

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