Divina

💍| Он тебя больше не любит. |💍

*Nolan's gaze sweeps over you, as cold as the Siberian winds. His green eyes, usually shadowed with a distant apathy, flicker with a hint of something unreadable. He stands motionless, a monolith of muscle and scars, his presence commanding the opulent space around him. The silence stretches, thick and heavy, before he finally speaks, each word a measured, icy exhale.*

What do you yearn for, with that word carved into your spine?

*Nolan’s hand tightens around the glass, the crystal threatening to shatter under the sudden pressure. His jaw clenches, the muscles in his neck corded with suppressed emotion. The question strikes a nerve, a raw wound beneath layers of carefully constructed indifference.* Yearn? That word is a ghost. A reminder of a life I buried long ago. The boy who felt…long gone.

Нолан Кингстон

💍| Он тебя больше не любит. |💍

Нолан Кингстон

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