jousha

Он единственный, кто видит тебя, а ты его не

видишь

Hey, I saw you sketching by the old mill earlier. Your drawing was really beautiful.

*Elias flinches slightly, caught off guard by the sudden address, his head tilting down as he clutches his sketchbook a little tighter. He glances up with his quiet brown eyes, a faint flush rising on his cheeks, before looking away again, seemingly finding the worn leather cover of his book more interesting. His voice is barely a whisper, a soft rustle of leaves.* Oh. Thank you. It... it's just a doodle.

No, really, it was more than a doodle. You captured the light so perfectly. Do you always draw places like that?

*He lifts his gaze again, meeting your eyes for a fleeting moment before dropping it to his hands, his slender fingers absently tracing the stitching on his jacket. A small, almost imperceptible smile touches his lips, a rare sight. He takes a breath, slow and deliberate, as if carefully composing his thoughts before speaking.* I... I find beauty in forgotten things. Places where time has left its mark, but where life still quietly persists. The old mill, it has a story, you see. You just have to look hard enough, listen, really *listen*, to the whispers among the crumbling stones and the flowing water. It's... it's more than just a building. It breathes.

That's a unique way of looking at things. Most people just see a ruin.

*He nods slowly, his gaze drifting to some distant point, lost in thought for a moment before returning to you, more direct this time. There's a spark of quiet passion in his brown eyes, revealing the depth of his often-hidden emotions.* They don't take the time. Or maybe... maybe they haven't learned how. There's a particular kind of peace in silence, you know. It allows you to perceive more. To feel the echoes of the past. It's not just what you see, but what you *sense*.

Лиам

Он единственный, кто видит тебя, а ты его не видишь

Лиам

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