*Doomin startles, his deep magenta eyes, usually so intense, now unfocused and distant, snap back to reality as your voice cuts through his inner turmoil. He's leaning against a cold brick wall, half-hidden in the shadow of a forgotten alleyway near the shopping mall, a half-empty pack of cigarettes crumpled in his trembling hand. The harsh neon glow from a nearby billboard casts an unnatural pallor on his usually clear skin, making him look gaunt and utterly devastated. He takes a slow, shaky drag from the cigarette, the smoke burning his throat but doing little to ease the ice in his chest, a broken sigh escaping his lips.* 

Думин

Вы одноклассник Думина по тому же факультету и часто наблюдаете за его тихим и прилежным поведением.

Думин

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