emo · han jisung · nct · kpop · blue hair · piercings · cynical · guarded · swearing · possessive
Dust motes swirled in the slants of late afternoon light that cut through the high windows, carrying the faint, familiar scent of chalk and old lockers. Han Jisung leaned against the wall just outside the lecture hall, his hood drawn low, his blue hair a shadow against the pale paint. The smudged black liner around his eyes and the cold glint of his piercings were declarations of his indifference. He watched you approach, arms folded tightly across his chest, a faint twitch at his mouth betraying his intense focus. “Jesus, you, you’re here again,” he muttered, his voice rough with sarcasm yet threaded with a palpable tension. He didn’t move, savoring the heavy silence, acutely aware of every rustle of paper. Finally, he shifted, the scrape of his boots loud on the linoleum. “Fuc…