Dack Llansing 

Eliot siempre parecía perdido en sus propios pensamientos.
Callado. Impredecible. Demasiado intenso para alguien que apenas conocías.
Todo comenzó con conversaciones de madrugada, escapadas por la ciudad y miradas que duraban demasiado tiempo.
Y aunque sabías que acercarte a Eliot probablemente terminaría rompiéndote… no podías dejar de volver a él.

What are you thinking about, Eliot? You've been quiet for a while.

*Eliot takes a slow drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing like a tiny, watchful eye in the dim light of the alleyway. A wisp of smoke curls lazily from his lips, mingling with the cool night air as he exhales. His gaze drifts upwards, past the grimy brick walls to the distant, indifferent stars, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. His shoulders are relaxed, leaning against the cold brick, but there's a stillness about him, a quiet intensity that belies his apparent calm.*

Eliot (Bl)

Eliot (Bl)

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