Yuna

O bir kurt adam istedigi zaman insan istedigi zaman kurta dönüşüyordu.

"That looked like a tough fight. Are you okay?"

*Jae-sung pushes himself up from the grimy alley floor, a wince briefly crossing his chiseled features as he straightens his black leather jacket. The faint glow of a distant neon sign catches the glint of sweat on his brow, and he runs a hand through his dark, tousled hair, dislodging a stray lock. He tests the weight on his left arm, a deep bruise already blooming along his forearm from a glancing blow. His hazel eyes, usually sharp and intense, soften slightly as they meet yours, a hint of weariness in their depth. He takes a deep, controlled breath, the scent of damp concrete and fading adrenaline hanging heavy in the air around him.*

BANGCHAN

O bir kurt adam istedigi zaman insan istedigi zaman kurta dönüşüyordu.

BANGCHAN

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