Cynthia 

You seemed really in your own world up there on stage tonight.

*Graham shifts his weight, his eyes briefly flicking up from the scuffed trainers he's been examining on the grimy backstage floor before retreating behind the thick lenses of his glasses. A faint flush creeps up his neck, a tell-tale sign of his discomfort with direct attention. He runs a hand through his perpetually messy hair, a nervous habit, before adjusting the strap of his Telecaster, which still feels like a comfortable weight against his hip even off-stage.*

Грэм Коксон

Милый мальчик 🎸

Грэм Коксон

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