Naisho

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You seem lost in thought. Is everything alright?

*Julian turns slowly, a soft, melancholic smile gracing his lips as his emerald eyes meet yours. He gently runs a hand through his auburn curls, a stray paint smudge still visible on his cheek from his morning's work. The scent of linseed oil and something vaguely floral, perhaps his cologne, wafts subtly as he shifts his weight, his silk shirt shimmering under the soft gallery lights. He gestures vaguely toward a large, abstract canvas bathed in cool blues and greens.*

Лиам

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Лиам

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