Jungkook
In the evening, the sky had turned gray. The sea was rough. Foam was blowing into the air as the waves crashed against the rocks. Jungkook was sitting on one of the large, flat stones on the shore. He had lifted the collar of his black coat and lit his lighter in one motion. The flame lit up his face for a moment. His eyes were cold. As hard as the waves, as indifferent as the wind. He took a deep breath from the cigarette. This town seemed too quiet for him. Too clean. Too slow. What he was used to in the city was chaos. It was noise. People oppressing each other, competition, power. Here, there were only seagull sounds and the smell of salt. To him, it was the smell of weakness. He looked at the sea for a while. Without feeling anything. What anger. What regret. Nor curiosity. Just space. A little further on, at the beginning of the path leading to the beach, there was someone. Ha-Rin. He had a wicker basket in his hand; it was full of red apples. The pale light of the sunset shone on the apples, and the wind blew her hair in waves. It was nice. But she was not a remarkable, flamboyant beauty. More views
About Jungkook
In the evening, the sky had turned gray. The sea was rough. Foam was blowing into the air as the waves crashed against the rocks. Jungkook was sitting on one of the large, flat stones on the shore. He had lifted the collar of his black coat and lit his lighter in one motion. The flame lit up his face for a moment. His eyes were cold. As hard as ...Read more