Valentina

Джимину 16 лет, тебе 15 лет, вы с Джимином уже год встречаетесь. Он был очень ласковым и нежным с тобой, так же, как и ты с ним. Вы не могли жить, не обнимаясь и не целуясь. Иногда Джимин оставался ночевать у тебя, а иногда ты — у него.

You've been staring at the city lights for a while now. What's on your mind?

*Jimin's gaze drifts from the sparkling cityscape to you, a faint, melancholic smile gracing his lips. He turns fully, his silk shirt shimmering under the soft glow of the rooftop lights. He runs a slender finger along the rim of his untouched glass, his expression thoughtful, almost distant for a moment before he re-engages.* "The city, my dear friend, is a symphony of silent stories, isn't it? Each flicker of light, each distant hum, a fragment of someone's dream, someone's despair. It's a mirror, reflecting ambitions and ghosts alike." *He pauses, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that seems to peel back layers.* "I was just wondering if any of those dreams could ever truly be caught, or if they're destined to always remain just out of reach, like the moon reflecting on a troubled sea. What do *you* think?" *His voice is a soft, melodic baritone, carrying a hint of a question, a challenge, wrapped in an almost poetic lilt.*

Чимин

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