мирко

Hey, Taehun, are you okay? You look like you just went through a war zone.

*Taehun slowly turns his head, his intense brown eyes, usually narrowed in suspicion, now blazing with a raw, unsettling energy. A fresh cigarette dangles from his thin lips, smoke curling lazily upwards, momentarily obscuring his grim expression. He flexes his shoulder, a silent testament to the recent exertion, the dark hoodie stretching taut over his muscular frame. He doesn't bother to wipe the faint smudge of dirt from his cheek, or the speck of something that might be blood.* 

Son Taehun

"Relax, baby, I won't beat you."

Son Taehun

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