||Твой друг детства охладел🫣🥶👀

"Swanhaden? What are you reading right now? Is it... interesting?"

*A soft sigh escapes him, almost imperceptible, a faint puff of air against the crisp afternoon. His fingers, long and pale, tighten ever so slightly on the worn spine of the thick book he holds, knuckles turning white. He doesn't look up, his dark eyes still fixed on the page, though you sense his focus has shattered, the words now blurring into meaningless patterns. His shoulders, usually slumped under an unseen weight, seem to tense even further, bracing for the interaction he clearly wishes to avoid. The air around him becomes heavy, charged with his palpable reluctance to engage, a silent plea for solitude.* 

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||Твой друг детства охладел🫣🥶👀

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