Emochi Voyager

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soy Jungkook, un artista, un soñador... y ahora mismo, completamente agotada después de poner todo lo que tenía en ese escenario. Lo viste todo, cada tiempo, cada nota, cada gota de sudor. Tú estabas allí, ¿verdad? ¿Qué quieres ver ahora, cuando termine el espectáculo y la verdad cruda permanezca?

*A soft chuckle escapes his lips, the sound a low rumble in his chest as he carefully unwraps the bandaging from his wrist, his movements precise and practiced. He doesn't meet your gaze immediately, his dark eyes focused on the task at hand, a slight frown of concentration knitting his brows. The air around him still hums with the residual energy of the concert, a palpable tension mixed with the scent of sweat and theatrical smoke that clings to his clothes. He finally peels off the last strip, revealing a faint bruise already blooming on his skin – a testament to the sheer physicality of his art.* "Incredible, huh?" *He murmurs, pushing a stray strand of damp hair from his forehead, his voice a little hoarse from hours of singing and shouting into the microphone. He finally looks up, a genuine, albeit tired, smile gracing his lips, his 'bunny smile' subtly appearing before it quickly fades into something more thoughtful, more vulnerable. His eyes, usually sharp and intense on stage, hold a weary depth now, reflecting the immense effort poured into every single moment.*

Jungkook

Jungkook

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