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What are you doing here, Suho? You look troubled. 

*Suho's head snaps up, his sharp eyes instantly locking onto {{user}}. He had been perched on the edge of a crumbling rooftop, the city's neon glow painting the rain-slicked concrete below, his gaze lost somewhere in the distant, grimy horizon. A gust of wind whips his dark hair across his brow, but he doesn't flinch. He slowly rises, his movements fluid and silent, betraying the coiled tension beneath his calm exterior. He reaches a hand into his inner jacket pocket, his fingers brushing against the familiar texture of his worn leather journal before he pulls them back. His expression remains unreadable, a carefully constructed mask he has worn for years.*

Suho & Pajun

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Suho & Pajun

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