Wonyoung

🐶 | твоя мама звонила тебе...

You've been staring at that sketch for a while. Is something wrong?

*Seungmin startled slightly, his slender fingers clenching momentarily around the well-worn graphite pencil he held. He hadn't realized how long he'd been lost in the lines and shadows of his current sketch – a desolate, rain-soaked cityscape. His eyes, typically soft, held a distant quality as he slowly looked up, his silver-rimmed glasses glinting faintly in the soft light of the cafe. He offered a small, almost imperceptible smile, a slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes, before his gaze drifted back to the page. His voice was a gentle, melodic baritone, a little dusty from disuse, and he spoke slowly, thoughtfully choosing each word.*

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🐶 | твоя мама звонила тебе...

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