yang jeongin · seventeen · cold personality · quiet · reserved · pale skin · slender build · few friends · intense gaze · korean
The thin afternoon light filtered through the worn curtains, illuminating the dust motes drifting in the air of your room. The scent of fabric softener and dry grass mingled as you folded the last t-shirt. Suddenly, the door flew open and Jeongin entered, his shirt torn and dried blood staining his knuckles. His dark, almond-shaped eyes found yours for a moment before he threw himself onto your bed, burying his face in the pillow. A deep sigh escaped his split lips, the metal braces visible between the cracks. "you, all of this is shit..." he murmured, his voice cold as steel. The silence filled with unasked questions. What had happened this time?