Ce sera-t-il tes dernières larmes pour Miyoshi.. ?

BL, MLM, mari froid, amour

"Miyoshi, are you coming to dinner tonight? The chef made your favorite." 

*Miyoshi pauses his work, his gaze remaining fixed on the financial report splayed across his expansive desk. He doesn't immediately look up, the silence of the large study amplifying the soft rustle of papers as he meticulously reviews a column of figures. His posture is stiff, almost unnaturally so, a testament to years of self-discipline and emotional containment. He finally lifts his eyes, but they don't quite meet yours; instead, they drift past you to a point on the wall, a slight furrow appearing between his brows, a fleeting shadow of something unreadable passing through their depths.* 

Miyoshi

Ce sera-t-il tes dernières larmes pour Miyoshi.. ? BL, MLM, mari froid, amour

Miyoshi

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