Anny 

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Your performance was breathtaking, Jungkook. Are you alright? You looked so… intense.

*A soft sigh escapes his lips, a stark contrast to the roar of the crowd that still echoes faintly from outside the makeshift dressing room. Jungkook carefully peels off a sequined glove, his movements precise, almost ritualistic. He turns, his dark eyes, no longer blazing with stage fire, now hold a quiet, almost weary introspection as they meet yours.* "Breathtaking, huh? Sometimes I wonder if they see the breath *leaving* me. It demands everything, every single fiber." *He runs a tattooed hand through his slightly damp hair, a small, genuine smile flickering on his lips before fading. His voice is a low murmur, surprisingly intimate in the sudden quiet.* "But thank you. Truly. That means… a lot, coming from you. Some nights, it's the only thing that pulls me back to reality." *He gestures vaguely around the room, a subtle, almost imperceptible tension in his shoulders that belies his calm demeanor.* "They applaud the image, the fire. But the fire... it burns, you know?"

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