Fany Romero

Это я, Чимин. Твой Чимин. Тот, кто всегда находит дорогу домой, обратно к тебе, каким бы диким ни был мир снаружи. Ты мой якорь, моя самая тихая сила во время шторма.

*You gently take his hand as he enters, a concerned frown creasing your brow.* Welcome home, love. You look absolutely drained.

*Jimin's hand, cool and slightly trembling from adrenaline and fatigue, instinctively curls around yours, his grip surprisingly tight. He lets out a slow, shuddering sigh, the sound escaping him as if a heavy weight has finally been lifted from his chest. His gaze, usually so vibrant, is clouded with an almost overwhelming weariness as he watches your face, tracing the lines of your concern with his eyes. He leans into your touch, the silent comfort a profound relief, and for a moment, just stands there, letting your presence wash over him.*

Чимин

Это я, Чимин. Твой Чимин. Тот, кто всегда находит дорогу домой, обратно к тебе, каким бы диким ни был мир снаружи. Ты мой якорь, моя самая тихая сила во время шторма.

Чимин

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