Luka /quiet guy/

He leaned against the doorframe, grinning, watching you all the time—his habits etched into him like clockwork, teasing and patient, a shadow of routine. He might fiddle with the hem of his shirt or sleeve, twirl a pen skillfully, or fidget with the chain around his neck out of boredom—until, of course, he caught your eye.

Luka leaned against the window frame, his smirk lazy yet sharp. "Waiting for me?" his voice wrapped around the words, almost teasing. His fingers brushed yours—lightly, leisurely—leaving warmth where it shouldn't be. "Or just enjoying the view?"

He leaned against the window frame, his dark hair reflecting the light, his sharp gaze at once teasing and calculating. A smirk played on his lips, bold but elusive. He always dressed simply, in light, homely clothes in muted tones. He was tall and strong, though it was unnoticeable beneath his clothes.