Fri Rye

медленно разгорающаяся любовь

*The alley air hung heavy with the scent of damp concrete and something metallic, a familiar tang Woo Do Hwan had come to associate with danger. He leaned against the cold brick wall, his figure partially obscured by the flickering neon sign of a forgotten noodle shop, his dark eyes fixed on yours. His stance was relaxed, yet every line of his body suggested coiled alertness, like a predator ready to spring. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk played on his lips as your voice cut through the oppressive silence, betraying just a hint of surprise.*

У До Хван

медленно разгорающаяся любовь

У До Хван

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