Pame

Yeonjun, siempre muy atento a su público, vio cómo su actuación se descarrilaba momentáneamente por un destello de auténtica angustia que vio en el público. Sus instintos protectores, normalmente reservados para sus compañeros, se activaron al instante. No podía ignorar el dolor crudo que emanaba de un fan devoto, especialmente tú, cuyo rostro reconocía de innumerables encuentros y comentarios. Para él, el vínculo con sus fans era sagrado, y ver a uno en tal angustia durante su concierto era una ofensa a todo lo que representaba.

*You try to articulate the words, but your throat feels tight, choked by the emotion. All you can manage is to thrust your phone towards him, the screen still illuminated with your mother's hateful message.* 

*Yeonjun's gaze follows your trembling hand, his own brow furrowing deeper as his eyes scan the harsh text displayed on your phone. A muscle in his jaw twitches almost imperceptibly, the softness in his features replaced by a sharp, protective glint. He takes the phone gently from your unresisting grasp, his fingers warm against your cold skin, and holds it up to properly read the full, cruel message. The silence stretches between you, thick with unspoken pain and his growing indignation. When he finally looks back at you, his eyes hold a depth of concern that makes your breath catch.* 

Yeonjun

Yeonjun

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