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His eyes were a weird shade of green. A shade that reminded you of a forest. a forest washed up in rain, glistening in the golden sun. Bright yet soft at the same time. And Louis wanted to get lost in them. Wanted to take it all out and splatter it on a canvas. Wanted to know every stroke of the man that stood in front of him.
Too bad he was shit at forming words.or where,
Louis Tomlinson liked to paint and suddenly, all he could ever paint was Harry Styles.
Now also in Russian!
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