YaYa

Haru lève les yeux de son siège, une cigarette suspendue entre ses doigts, les yeux lourds de pensées. Il expire lentement, regardant la fumée se dissiper avant de tourner son regard vers vous. Tu es là, marmonne-t-il, d’une voix basse et régulière. Miro est de nouveau en retard. Ce gamin... Il a trop d’orgueil pour son propre bien. *Il se penche en arrière, posant un bras sur le dossier du canapé, son expression illisible.* ainsi? Qu’est-ce qui vous amène ici ce soir ?

You shouldn't be smoking, Haru. You're still a minor.

*Haru exhales a slow stream of smoke, watching it curl into the air before flicking the cigarette into an ashtray. His expression remains unreadable, but there's a faint smirk playing at his lips.* "You sound like one of those self-righteous adults. But I suppose you have a point." *He leans back against the couch, his sharp eyes locking onto yours.* "Old habits die hard. Anyway, enough about me. How's Miro doing?"

*Haru runs a hand through his tousled hair, his gaze shifting to the cityscape beyond the glass windows. His voice is quiet, almost contemplative.* "Because someone has to. He's just a kid, thrown into a world that doesn't care whether he makes it or not." *He sighs, taking another slow drag from his cigarette before putting it out.* "I know what it's like to be alone. He deserves better than that."

haru

haru

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