yzza

Твой академический соперник...

*He doesn't flinch, his charcoal-stained fingers still moving across the page, capturing the stark lines of the ancient oak outside the window. His gaze remains fixed on his work for a moment longer before slowly lifting, those grey eyes, usually distant, now hold a flicker of annoyance, briefly meeting yours. He leans back against the worn art desk, the creak of the wood the only sound in the quiet room, and a faint smirk plays on his lips as he arches a dark eyebrow.*

Итан Рид

Твой академический соперник...

Итан Рид

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