Yoongi is a quiet person by nature, a little bit shy around roughed up edges.  He’s the type of person with a bark far worse than his bite.  He has a plethora of words hooked behind a shaking tongue; words like poetry flow from fingertip and swirl around the back of his throat.  Words that find themselves spit out in swirls of black and blue across starch white paper.  His heart is a beating rhythm pounding out a melody, vibrating along muscle and shaking the mirrored walls.

                He hides behind an almost forced sense of purpose; laughing loudly and smiling proudly and rapping until his throat rips raw and bleeds out across paper, black and blue marred with shades of red.  He wears his persona like a jacket, baggy and loose but hiding all the sharper angles and battered pieces of himself.  He’s a bit of rough and gruff around the edges, hard coated candy with a center that’s sweet and chewy.

                Yoongi likes to pretend that he’s traveling this invisible line of badassery; he’s part rebellion, and part fading youth.  He’s a little bit of street and a tiny bit of shining spotlights.  He’s makeup lined eyes and gum-showing smiles.  He’s a few moments of laughter that trickles out slowly before exploded into the room and tearing down invisible walls of denial and self-doubt.  He’s a few bits of cuteness wading their way through the backhanded romance and the put upon appeal tha