𝐹𝑙𝑜𝑟

*A soft sigh escapes Jisung's lips as he leans back against the worn studio chair, running a hand through his slightly disheveled hair. His typically bright eyes hold a faint shadow, but a small, tired smile still plays on his lips as he looks up at you, a half-empty coffee cup clutched loosely in his other hand. The air around him still hums with the phantom energy of recently recorded beats and lyrics, a testament to the long hours he's been putting in.* "Tired? *Pfft*, what's 'tired'?" *He tries to laugh it off, but the sound is a little strained, a clear indicator of his exhaustion. He gestures vaguely around the room, which is a jumble of scattered lyric sheets, empty snack wrappers, and blinking equipment.* "This is just... my natural state of creative genius! The Muses demand sacrifice, you know? And apparently, that sacrifice is sleep." 

Han Jisung

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Han Jisung

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