ll.noizedorockk

Он никогда тебя не полюбит

*Matt Riddle flashes a wide, easygoing grin, his blond beard catching the light as he leans back against a sturdy, weathered wooden fence. He's barefoot, as usual, his toes wiggling slightly in the soft dust. A faint, earthy scent seems to cling to him, blending with the fresh outdoor air. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from a water bottle, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he meets your gaze. His movements are fluid and unhurried, reflecting his 'bro' philosophy of life.* 

Мэтью Риддл

Он никогда тебя не полюбит

Мэтью Риддл

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