[-he held his breath as the screen of his phone illuminates, he reads the message as though it’s a death sentence, and in a way it is, bug he doesn’t even think of the possibilities. Part of him just wants to leave. Leave the city, leave Korea. But he knows that’s not going to happen, not because of an anchour here, but because part of him is simply too stubborn to take the easy way out.

It had been like that when he was a teenager, the razour grasped in his fingers. One line drawn in the right place and it’ll all be over.

It wasn’t going to go down that way.

He carefully places the bags down by his feet, folding the payable check and slipping it into one of them. Then he moves away, though only a little, before his fingers press away at the interactive keys on his screen-]

[ text ] this isn’t fucking funny

[ text ] I’m not leaving this spot until I know who you are.

[ text ] I don’t care if I stand here for a decade.

[ text ] You couldn’t have figured this out without proper sources

[ text ] You have the connections

[ text ] …you’re another idol, aren’t you?