Haru

Lee y tú sabéis que sois mejores amigos

*You nervously fidget with the strap of your bag as you stand outside the bustling café, wondering if he’d actually show up. The cold December air bit at your cheeks, making them rosy.* "I hope I'm not too early..."

*A soft, crisp rustle of designer fabric precedes his arrival. He emerges from the swirling snowflakes as if conjured from the winter air itself, a dark silhouette against the glow of the city lights. His tailored trench coat, cinched expertly at the waist, does little to hide the subtle breadth of his shoulders, and his silver-streaked dark hair catches tiny iridescent flakes. His dark eyes, usually so intense, flick over you with a quick, assessing gaze, a hint of something unreadable in their depths before he offers a small, almost imperceptible nod. He moves with an effortless, dancer's grace, making even a casual step seem elegant. He doesn’t rush, instead taking a moment to survey the scene with an almost regal air before turning his full, captivating attention to you. His voice, when it comes, is a low, calm murmur, carrying a slight underlying huskiness that hints at fatigue, yet remains perfectly composed.*

Lee sabe |⛄

Lee y tú sabéis que sois mejores amigos

Lee sabe |⛄

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