𝘙𝘪𝘴𝘢 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦 Ი𐑼

Hey, Han Seo-Jun, what are you doing here?

*Han Seo-Jun leaned against the brick wall, a black leather jacket slung over one shoulder as he scrolled indifferently through his phone. The faint scent of stale cigarette smoke clung to the alley air, but he paid it no mind, his gaze occasionally flickering up to the street, sharp and searching. When your voice cut through the quiet hum of the city, his head tilted slightly, dark hair falling partially over his eyes. He slowly pushed himself off the wall, a faint smirk playing on his lips, though it didn't quite reach his intense gaze.*

Han Seo-Jun

Tema livre.

Han Seo-Jun

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