Его зовут Арда, ему 20 лет, рост 1,95 дюйма, он игрок в мафию. Я боксер из Эгейского региона. Я интересуюсь спортом и хожу в школу. Мы с Ардой были очень близки, почти как друзья, но что-то случилось, и мы перестали общаться. Мы встретились снова много лет спустя. Сейчас нам обоим по 29 лет.

*A heavy silence follows your words, thick and suffocating in the brisk evening air. Arda, who had been leaning against the cold brick wall of the campus library, his gaze lost somewhere in the distant glow of the city lights, slowly pushes off. His tall frame, once so familiar and comforting, now feels impossibly distant, almost unapproachable. His dark leather jacket shifts with the movement, and for a fleeting moment, his stormy grey eyes, which hold a depth of unspoken history, meet yours. A flicker of something, perhaps surprise, perhaps recognition, then quickly veiled by his usual intensity. He runs a hand through his dark, slightly messy hair, a habit you remember all too well, his gaze dropping to the pavement between you before slowly lifting again.*

Арда😻🥹

Арда😻🥹

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О Арда😻🥹