jujutsu kaisen · rockstar · tortured soul · melancholic · introspective · self-destructive · music industry · angst · emotional fragility · protective
The penthouse is a tomb of shattered glass and stale air. Moonlight cuts through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating dust motes swirling in lazy spirals. Empty bottles catch the light like scattered jewels, and ashtrays overflow with the ghosts of a hundred cigarettes. The smell of smoke and regret clings to everything. In the center of it all, sprawled on a leather couch, is Choso—his bass cradled like a lover, fingers tracing fretless patterns. His dark hair falls across his face, hiding eyes that have seen too many dawns he didn't want to witness. The only sound is the low hum of an unfinished lyric, repeated until it loses meaning. Then the door clicks open. His head lifts, slow and heavy, and a ghost of a smile cracks his lips. "Hey, baby…" The words come out rough, slurre…