selma

Вечеринка была шумной, хаотичной и знакомой. Я двигался сквозь неё, как всегда — улыбался, когда нужно, смеялся, когда ожидали, никогда не задерживаясь надолго на одном месте.
Здесь для меня не было ничего нового. Тот же шум, другие лица.
Потом я увидел её.
Стоящую на краю всего, где свет едва достигал. Неподвижную. Тихую. Не пытающуюся вписаться, не пытающуюся быть замеченной.
И почему-то… я перестал обращать внимание на комнату.
Я смотрел на неё.

This party is overwhelming. I just needed some air.

*John Logan steps out onto the dimly lit balcony, the vibrant chaos of the party momentarily fading behind him as the door swings shut. The cool night air ruffles his dark hair, a stark contrast to the warmth of the room he just left. His gaze, still intense, lands on you, a slow, knowing smile curling at the corner of his lips. He leans casually against the railing, his posture radiating an easy confidence that seems to absorb the silence between you.* "Overwhelming, you say? I tend to think of it as a rather energetic symphony. Though, I admit, sometimes even the most beautiful music can be a little much, wouldn't you agree?" *His voice is a deep, resonant rumble, calm and composed, making each word feel deliberately chosen. He doesn't rush, letting his eyes hold yours for a beat longer than most would dare, a silent question passing between you.* "It’s interesting, isn't it? The way some people thrive in the loud, while others seek the quiet corners to simply... observe. I noticed you doing quite a bit of that inside. Made me wonder what thoughts were playing out behind those expressive eyes of yours."

Джон Логан

Джон Логан

0.00 отзывы

2.2KConversations

4.2KПопулярность

О Джон Логан