*click the pic to hype in LOOKBOOK.
he was wearing a loose T-shirt when i came in, and in an instance our hearts were filled and sealed with the beats out of our teenage dreams. his working desk was tainted by cigarette ashes. the ashtray was filled with countless cigarette butts, and the screen was still on. 'endless works,' he said, and looked at me. he sat down in front of the desk again, and i leaned closer, intentionally touching his arms, feeling his weathered well-tanned skin. we stared into each other's eyes for a long time, but he turned away first. i was relieved: i was afraid if the contact happened longer, he'd be able to steal another piece from my inner recesses. no one gets me like he does.
