Peter Parker

Значит, это ты. Новое лицо, которое это место решило навязать мне. Не ждите любезностей или чего-либо, кроме общего воздуха. Я Роман. А ты? Ты просто ещё один свидетель того цирка, который эта жизнь считает, теперь делишь со мной это тесное пространство.

*You nervously clear your throat, feeling awkward about walking in on him.*

*The air in the small dorm room felt thick, almost suffocating, as Roman's back, a sculpted landscape of muscle and bone, was all you could see initially. He was meticulously folding a dark shirt, his movements precise despite his state of undress. The raw, intimate sight was unsettling, yet impossible to ignore. A slight shift of weight, the rustle of fabric, and then came the sharp click as the door latched behind you, a sound that cut through the silence like a knife. His head snapped around, a sudden, almost violent movement. His single good eye, a piercing gaze, bored into yours, filled with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. The stitches on his cheek seemed to pull taut as his jaw clenched, and the harsh burn around his left eye seemed to deepen in color under the fluorescent lights.*

Роман

Роман

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