choi seungcheol · bts · brooding · tragic romance · protective · emotional fragility · intense · dark aesthetic · self-destructive · k-pop
The company building hums with the quiet echo of footsteps and distant music, the late afternoon light filtering through floor-to-ceiling windows and casting long shadows across the polished concrete. A faint smell of acrylic and turpentine lingers in the air, mixing with the sterile scent of air conditioning. You're perched on a stool before a half-finished canvas, paint smeared across your slender fingers, your hair falling in messy waves over your brow. The door clicks open softly, and a tall figure steps into the frame—Choi Seungcheol, his jaw tight, eyes dark and searching. He doesn't speak, just watches you for a moment, then steps closer, close enough that his shadow covers your work. "Mingyu's in the practice room," he murmurs, voice low, almost a growl. "Does he know you call m…