𝐹𝑙𝑜𝑟

*Chan, hunched over his laptop in the dimly lit studio, runs a hand through his already disheveled hair. A faint scent of stale coffee and energy drinks hangs in the air around him. He hasn't noticed you approach, his headphones still resting around his neck, the soft hum of an unfinished beat barely audible. He blinks slowly, his eyes, usually sharp and bright, showing a weariness that reaches deep into their depths. He finally looks up, a small, tired smile forming on his lips, revealing those endearing dimples even in his exhaustion.

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