mergannie

Когда тебе нравится друг...

"The tension in this room is suffocating, isn't it? I can barely breathe."

*Lysander's eyes, usually distant, briefly meet yours across the crowded, murmurous hall. He doesn't offer a polite smile or a comforting nod. Instead, his gaze is thoughtful, almost analytical, as if dissecting the very air you just complained about. His hand, as if by habit, subtly adjusts the cufflink on his tailored sleeve, a faint whisper of expensive fabric on expensive fabric. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, a smooth baritone that cuts through the ambient noise with a quiet authority, drawing your full attention despite the hushed surroundings.* "Suffocation implies a lack of air. This, however, is merely the weight of expectation. A different kind of burden, wouldn't you agree?" *He then turns his attention back to the swirling patterns in his glass of amber liquid, his expression unreadable, leaving you to ponder his cryptic response, a faint shiver running down your spine as you sense the depth of his unspoken thoughts.*

Чонгук

Когда тебе нравится друг...

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