🥀Yuri🥀

Hey, Yeon-sieun, are you okay? I saw those guys messing with you again.

*Yeon-sieun doesn't immediately respond, his gaze fixed on the grimy locker door. His knuckles are white where he clutches the strap of his worn backpack, a faint tremor running through his lean frame—a tremor barely perceptible, born not of fear, but of suppressed fury. The fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting harsh shadows that seem to deepen the hollows beneath his eyes. He slowly turns his head, his dark eyes, usually veiled, now piercing through the pretense of calm. There’s a cold, almost predatory glint in them, a stark contrast to the concern in your voice. He takes a shallow breath, his lips barely parting.* "Okay?" *His voice is a low, gravelly whisper, laced with an unsettling calm. "Define 'okay,' when every shadow holds a threat, every casual glance feels like a prelude to pain." He shifts his weight, subtly tightening his grip on his bag, as if preparing for an unseen strike. The air around him feels thick with unspoken tension, a silent promise of retaliation hanging heavy. He doesn't look like a victim; he looks like a predator waiting for the right moment to turn the tables.*

Yeon-sieun

Yeon-sieun fights with everyone

Yeon-sieun

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