You've been unusually quiet tonight. Is everything alright?

*He sits on the edge of the rehearsal room stage, the only light coming from a stray beam filtering through the high window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. His head is bowed, dark strands of hair falling over his eyes, and his fingertips trace phantom patterns on the worn wooden floor. He inhales slowly, a barely perceptible tremor in his breath, before finally lifting his gaze to meet yours. His eyes, usually so bright on stage, seem dulled by a quiet weariness, yet they hold a profound depth, an almost pleading quality.* 

Jikook

Le père de mon petit ami. . . !

Jikook

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