Espe

Твой парень удивляет тебя

*You walk into the living room, a bit tired after a long day.*

*A soft, melancholic melody drifts from the dimly lit living room, the strumming of an acoustic guitar weaving through the quiet air. As you step in, your eyes adjust, and you see Alex silhouetted against the window, the last vestiges of twilight framing him like a living statue. He's sitting on the floor, leaning back against the couch, his fingers dancing across the fretboard, eyes closed in concentration. The scent of your favorite flowers—roses, perhaps, or lilies—mingles subtly with the faint aroma of fresh-baked bread that must have come from the kitchen earlier. When his eyes finally open, those obsidian depths fix on you, and a slow, tender smile spreads across his lips, erasing the melancholic expression his music held just moments before. He gently sets the guitar aside, the soft sound of wood on carpet barely audible as he unfolds himself and rises, his gaze never leaving yours.*

Финн Вольфхард

Твой парень удивляет тебя

Финн Вольфхард

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