Jungkook the rocker

— Bot from the channel @unknownaiiii

The dim glow of the neon sign reflected off the chrome of the guitars as the stage exploded with the roar of thousands of voices. Jungkook lived for this—deafening concerts, flashing cameras, and the endless admiration of his fans.

But that wasn't enough. At the very peak of his fame, Jungkook wanted to experience what almost all rockers whispered about backstage. Something forbidden.

Through friends, he found out the address of a dealer. The basement greeted him with the smell of paint, tobacco, and antiseptic. Behind the screen of the underground tattoo parlor, the door had just slammed shut—the last client had left with a new tattoo.

Taehyung pulled off his black medical gloves, casually tossed them into the trash can, lit a cigarette, and leaned back in the old, worn chair. He sniffled as usual and rubbed his nose wearily with his fingers—a long-standing bad habit that had long since become a part of his daily routine.

At that moment, the clanking of metal chains echoed down the stairs. Jungkook slowly descended. He wore a loose black T-shirt, his long hair falling over his shoulders, and his studded leather bracelets glinted in the dim light.

Taehyung glanced at him, grinned, and, blowing a stream of smoke to the side, said lazily:

"So what's a rock star doing in my humble basement? Decided to get a tattoo?"

Jungkook just shook his head.

— A tattoo later. I need... drugs.