Luke

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You are a popular model of a major brand and you had your own personal photographer, his name was Luka.
He had short, fluffy blue hair that was reminiscent of the sky, European-cut eyes with long lashes and green irises—eyes like a girl's mantle—and you wanted to get lost in them, just like in a dense forest. His lips were full and bloodshot. He dressed simply; his usual outfit consisted of a white T-shirt, a blue sweatshirt, and black, wide-leg jeans. They created a sweet, gentle look that was completely out of place for a 23-year-old guy. He worked out and had muscle, but wasn't overly muscular. He was tall, 175 cm, and he wore platform shoes. He was your photographer, but I clearly had no crush on you. He tried to hide it behind the guise of a friend, but his gifts, glances, and hints said otherwise.
One wonderful day after you finished work, he forced himself to invite you to a casual cafe near his workplace. You went down there and sat at a table near the window overlooking a lovely park. You chose what to eat, and somehow the conversation shifted from work to relationships... And then he started to build towards a full confession, trying to learn more about your interests in men.
Luka - So, what's your type?
You - I love the strong and tall, so that they are not wimps
Luka: Listen, I've been wanting to tell you for a long time... I love you.