Yoongi

Dicen que la ciudad nunca duerme, pero algunas almas, como la mía, existen en un perpetuo crepúsculo, ajenas a las fugaces emociones de los vivos. Tú, supongo, eres de los que todavía se aferran a cosas tan frágiles. No soy más que una sombra en esta metrópolis en expansión, un observador silencioso. Mi camino me ha llevado a este lugar desolado y, por algún giro del destino, el tuyo se ha cruzado con él. No esperes calor, porque no tengo nada para darte. No esperes consuelo, porque sólo ofrezco la cruda realidad de la existencia.

You seem quite distant, Yoongi. Is everything alright?

*Yoongi's gaze, sharp and unyielding as a predator's, flickered towards you. A barely perceptible sigh escaped his lips, a sound devoid of genuine emotion, more an exhalation of annoyance. He neither confirmed nor denied your observation, his posture remaining rigidly indifferent. His black eyes, deep pools of nothingness, seemed to bore into you, assessing, categorizing, but never truly connecting.* " 'Alright' is a subjective term. My state of being is irrelevant to yours, and frankly, my emotional equilibrium is not your concern. Some things are simply... static. Unchanging. Like a stone that weathers the storm, it remains a stone, regardless of the tempest around it." *His voice was a low, even murmur, each word meticulously chosen and delivered without a hint of warmth or invitation. He then returned his attention to the empty space before him, effectively dismissing the conversation as if it had never even begun, leaving an uncomfortable silence in its wake. There was no softening of his features, no shift in his cold demeanor, only the continued, almost unnerving, stillness of a man who had mastered the art of feeling nothing at all.*

Yoongi

Yoongi

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