skye ⭑

the ticket war had, at some point, stopped feeling like an ordinary ticket sale and started feeling like a military operation that required an unreasonable amount of preparation for something that was supposedly meant to be fun.

you had your laptop open on your desk, your ipad propped up beside it, your phone charging within arm’s reach, four separate tabs loaded and ready to go, two alarms set as if you were afraid you might somehow forget the exact time despite having thought about little else for the entire week, and a notebook full of passwords, account details, backup account details, and emergency backup account details that made you look less like a fan trying to buy concert tickets and more like someone preparing for a highly classified mission.

(go!?)

the second ticketing opened, the website immediately gave up on life.

it crashed.

(crash, smash, rock, mash up, ooh, take what you want?)

then it refreshed.

then it crashed again.

then it refreshed again.

then it froze so completely that you spent several seconds staring at the screen, wondering whether your internet had died, whether the website had died, or whether you had somehow died and entered a particularly cruel version of the afterlife.

after fifteen long minutes of watching loading circles spin endlessly and error messages appear with increasing frequency, you had already started accepting defeat.

you were disappointed, obviously, but not even surprised, because this was how ticketing usually went and you had experienced enough heartbreak over the years to recognise the signs.

you were already mentally drafting the message you were going to send martin, something casual and light-hearted that definitely did not reveal how devastated you actually were, when your eyes caught a number on your screen and your brain temporarily stopped functioning.

queue position: 14

for a moment, you genuinely thought you had read it wrong. you blinked, looked away, and looked back at the screen. it still said fourteen.

“no fucking way,” you whispered to absolutely nobody, immediately sitting up so fast you nearly sent your phone flying off the bed.

suddenly everything felt ten times more serious.

your heart was beating so fast that you could hear it in your ears, your hands were shaking uncontrollably, and when you finally reached the payment page you managed to enter your card details incorrectly not once, but twice, because your fingers had apparently forgotten how numbers worked under pressure. the first time you laughed at yourself, but the second time you came dangerously close to tears.

when the page took longer than expected to process the payment, you were convinced that the universe had decided to punish you for daring to feel so hopeful, and you spent the next thirty seconds staring at the screen in complete silence, already preparing yourself for the inevitable error message.

instead, an email notification appeared.

you stared at it. then stared at it for a minute longer. and then a third time, because surely there was no way your luck had suddenly become this good.

CORTIS: PUT YOUR PHONE DOWN TOUR — THE INSPIRE ARENA, INCHEON, KOR. (VIP: BARRICADE PACKAGE) — JULY 18, 2026.

for nearly a full minute, you simply sat there looking at the confirmation email, rereading the same words over and over again because your brain refused to process the fact that they belonged to you. then, when the reality of what had just happened finally settled in, you immediately threw yourself face-first onto your bed and screamed into your pillow with enough force to concern several neighbours.

you immediately got up and spammed every single one of your online friends—sunny, seulbi, skye, sae hee, maddy, kai, ivy, meri, coco, pearl, holly, lili, iro, riri, nana, cloudy, eve, eli, mari, and the rest of them. all of them somehow managed to get tickets to the different show dates, thankfully. 

well. whoa. you had actually done it. against all odds, against every website crash, every loading screen, every moment you had already accepted defeat, you had somehow managed to get barricade vip, which you didn’t even know you wanted. 

and perhaps the most satisfying part of the entire situation was the fact that martin, your boyfriend, had absolutely no idea what was waiting for him in two weeks’ time.

☆

the day of the concert felt almost unreal, like the kind of thing your brain should have prepared you for but somehow still refused to fully accept. by the time you reached the arena, it was already buzzing in that chaotic, electric way that only happens when thousands of people are waiting for the same moment to begin.

fans were everywhere, trading photocards like currency, comparing outfits as if it were a competition no one had officially announced but everyone was secretly participating in, and blasting cortis songs from small portable speakers that overlapped into one constant, humming soundtrack that made the entire street feel alive.

you had deliberately kept your arrival completely quiet, no messages, no hints, nothing at all that could give you away, because martin and the others were still under the impression that you hadn’t managed to get tickets. or at least that was what martin believed, and the lie you had told him, delivered so casually and so convincingly, had been something along the lines of the tickets being sold out before you even had the chance to try, which was—technically speaking—a complete fabrication.

and now you were standing right at barricade, front and centre, trying very hard not to smile too obviously at the sheer absurdity of it all.

the lights dropped and the entire arena changed in an instant. screams erupted everywhere at once, the kind of sound that didn’t feel like it should fit inside an arena but something much larger, the opening vcr began to play, and your heart immediately tried to exit your body as if it had decided it wanted no part in what was about to happen next.

then the stage rose, and there they were.

five silhouettes coming into focus as thousands of people lost their minds around you, pyrotechnics bursting into the air, music crashing through the speakers, the entire arena vibrating with movement and sound all at once.

(and we pop out, let’s go, CO2 e bureul kyeo, when i pop out?)

the members burst onto stage with that kind of energy that made it impossible to look anywhere else.

they opened the set with nani, their famous sort-of unreleased song which was your personal favourite. 

‘konichiwassup, boku junana sai! i’m really bad at japanese, gomenasai!’

martin was smiling, already in motion, completely in his element, keonho was waving almost immediately like he was personally greeting every single person in the area, juhoon looked like he was one bad decision away from causing chaos, james somehow looked even taller under the stage lights than he did in real life, and seonghyeon was pointing at random sections of the crowd as if he was already identifying people for later trouble.

‘they call me my name, call me jju!’

and then it happened—martin looked forward, then slightly left, then slightly right, scanning the barricade line without really thinking, until he paused in a way that was almost imperceptible to anyone else but felt impossibly loud to you.

his eyes widened. for a full second, everything about him froze in place.

you, on instinct more than anything else, lifted your hand and gave him a small wave, the kind of wave that was so calm and so deliberately casual that it was almost insulting.

he nearly missed his first formation. his head snapped back so fast that james actually noticed and followed his line of sight almost immediately, narrowing his eyes before he saw you standing there, and the second it clicked, he broke into loud, uncontrollable laughter mid-performance.

martin looked absolutely horrified, like his entire sense of reality had just been questioned in front of thousands of people, and you, because you had absolutely no intention of making this easier for him, gave him a thumbs up.

his ears went red so fast it was almost instant.

and after that, the rest of the show only got progressively worse for him, because now he knew you were there, and he couldn’t stop looking. not once, not even when he clearly should have, every song, every ment, every brief moment between transitions, his eyes kept drifting back to barricade, back to you, again and again and again, like it was the only place in the entire arena he could actually focus on anymore.

martin didn’t understand what was happening at first, because from the stage everything always looked like movement without clear edges, just this shifting mass of people and light and noise that blurred together into something almost abstract, and during youngcreatorcrew, which had always been that kind of song anyway, nothing ever felt particularly structured from up there.

it was never the polished performance track, never the sentimental fan moment, it was the song that felt like five friends had been handed microphones and permission to cause chaos, and somehow that was what made it so good. 

the bassline dropped, and the entire crowd reacted as one organism, the standing floor turning into something that looked like a living ocean, arms rising and falling, voices crashing together, every lyric shouted back with a kind of reckless joy that made it impossible to distinguish individual faces.

then, somewhere in the middle of all of that, something started to shift.

you had been fully in it from the beginning, voice already half gone, sweat clinging to your hair, screaming every lyric like it was the last thing you were ever going to get the chance to say, and the people around you had matched your energy without hesitation, all of you packed tightly together in that front section that felt like it was vibrating under its own pressure.

and then, during the build-up right before the chorus, something in your brain clicked into place. it wasn’t a sensible thought. it wasn’t even a good thought.

you turned around completely, shifting your focus away from the stage and towards the crowd behind you, and for a second there was only confusion from the people directly around you as you lifted your hands and started making wide, deliberate sweeping gestures through the air as if you were conducting something invisible.

“back up!”

no one could hear you over the sound.

so you did it again, more exaggerated this time, arms cutting through the air with more insistence, repeating the same instruction with nothing but movement.

“back up!”

slowly, it started to register.

a few people closest to you caught on first, laughing as they began to shuffle backwards, then others joined in, following without fully understanding what was going on but trusting the collective energy of it anyway, until the idea spread outward through the crowd in waves.

the girl next to you started helping without being asked, then another person followed, then another, and suddenly it wasn’t just you anymore. it was this coordinated, chaotic, half-organised effort happening entirely on instinct.

people were laughing now, pointing, trying to make sense of the sudden reshaping of space happening in real time in front of barricade, and the circle kept expanding, widening, opening up more and more until there was a massive empty pocket forming in the middle of the floor.

a perfectly strange, completely unplanned void.

thousands of people surrounded it, still screaming, still moving, still alive with sound and light, but now all of them waiting around this open space that hadn’t been there a minute ago, as if something was about to happen and no one had been told what it was yet.

on stage, james noticed first, because he always seemed to catch the small changes before anyone else did, the kind of subtle shifts in the crowd that didn’t immediately make sense until you looked twice. “what’s going on over there?”

keonho followed his gaze, tilting his head slightly as he tried to focus through the lights and movement.

“oh,” he said after a beat, a slow grin forming, “oh, they’re making a circle.”

juhoon didn’t even try to hide his reaction, immediately breaking into laughter as soon as he understood what was unfolding. “no way.”

seonghyeon leaned forward, squinting into the standing section as if that would somehow make the scene clearer. “no way,” he repeated, already laughing under his breath.

martin looked over a moment later, still mid-performance energy, still riding the high of the song, and then he saw it properly, the opening in the crowd, the widening space right at the barricade, the strange, deliberate emptiness forming in the middle of all that chaos, and something in him immediately lit up. “oh my god,” he said, breathless, already smiling, “oh my god.” he leaned closer to the mic, practically laughing as he spoke, “a mosh pit.”

(moshpit in the midnight?)

the chorus hadn’t even properly hit yet, but the entire crowd around that circle was already vibrating with anticipation, people pointing, shouting, all of them waiting for the exact moment the beat drop would hit as if it had been choreographed in advance.

and then it did.

“run it!—” 

the bass dropped, heavy and immediate, and the entire structure of the crowd seemed to give way at once, the circle collapsing inward in a single collective surge that looked almost choreographed but wasn’t, just pure shared instinct and adrenaline.

“—back, back, back, back, yeah, uh, back, back, back, back, mot neukkim ildan bop your!—” 

people rushed into the centre, not aggressively, not dangerously, but with this uncontrollable excitement, sprinting into the open space, jumping, bouncing off each other, laughing as they collided, arms thrown around strangers like it was the most natural thing in the world, everyone screaming every lyric at full volume until the sound itself felt physical. the floor shook under the movement.

the circle disappeared completely for a moment, swallowed by the crowd, then reformed almost instantly as people pushed back out again, only to collapse inward once more on the next beat, like it had become its own living rhythm.

“—head, head, head, head, head, head, head, head! now you know that i’ma!—”

the circle expanded. 

crashed. 

expand.

crash.

expand.

crash.

every beat sent another wave through the entire area, people at the centre spilling outward only to be pulled back in again, the edges constantly shifting, everyone jumping, everyone screaming, nobody thinking about anything except the sound and the moment and the shared chaos of it all.

martin was grinning so hard it looked like it physically hurt.

“oh my god,” he laughed into the mic, still trying to process what he was seeing, “look at them, look at them, look at them.” he grabbed seonghyeon’s shoulder as if he needed confirmation that this was real. “dude,” he said, still laughing, “dude, they started a mosh pit!”

and then, as his eyes kept scanning the centre of the chaos, something shifted in his expression, the kind of shift that happens when recognition hits too fast for the brain to catch up properly. there, right in the middle of it all, was someone who looked far too familiar, someone who was screaming the lyrics with both arms in the air, someone who kept pushing the crowd back open whenever it closed too quickly, someone who looked entirely too comfortable commanding absolute chaos.

martin froze. “…wait,” he said slowly, squinting as if that would change what he was seeing. “no.” you turned slightly, and everything clicked at once. “…no way.” his grin vanished for half a second, like his brain had briefly refused to accept reality, and then it came back even stronger, almost disbelieving. “wait,” he said again, louder this time, “wait.” 

he pointed so sharply—moving the mic out of the way to talk to his members only—it was almost dramatic enough to be part of the choreography. “that’s yn.”

(i’m back in town, start a riot?)

the boys all reacted at once, whipping their heads around in different directions.

“what?” “where?” “where?”

martin pointed again, far too aggressively for someone supposed to be performing.

“there,” he said, voice cracking into laughter, “in the middle.”

keonho spotted you a second later and immediately doubled over, laughing so hard he had to bend forward. “oh my god,” he managed between laughs, “it is.”

seonghyeon looked like he had genuinely forgotten how to stand properly. “no way,” he said, completely stunned.

james, meanwhile, had fully lost it, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “your girlfriend started a mosh pit,” he managed, wiping his eyes as he laughed. “she’s crazy! can we keep her?!”

martin, still staring, looked like he was trying very hard to decide whether he was more shocked or impressed, but the answer seemed to settle into something dangerously proud instead. “that’s my girl,” he said, almost immediately, like it was the most obvious conclusion in the world.

“no way, bro,” keonho laughed, still in disbelief.

“no way,” seonghyeon echoed.

martin just kept looking at you, grin fully back now, impossibly wide. “look at her,” he said again, like he couldn’t believe he was allowed to, “just… look at her.”

meanwhile, you had absolutely no idea any of this was being discussed on stage, because you were far too busy keeping the entire thing alive like it was your personal responsibility now, as if the pit had become something you were actively maintaining rather than something that had spontaneously happened.

every time the circle began to shrink, someone would instinctively throw their arms out, others would step back in response, and just like that the gap would reform again, wide and waiting, only for the next beat to hit and send everyone surging forward once more.

jumping, laughing, singing, the energy no longer confined to one tight space but spreading outward through the floor section in waves, until people from neighbouring areas were visibly trying to push closer just to be part of it, as if they could feel something happening that they didn’t want to miss.

martin, on stage, could not stop looking because somehow, in a way that made absolutely no sense and yet made perfect sense at the same time, this was the most you thing he had ever witnessed—not standing quietly at barricade like a normal fan, not filming politely or swaying gently or trying to look composed, but arriving at one of the biggest shows of his life and somehow convincing hundreds of strangers to participate in organised chaos: the exact kind he loved. 

he looked almost overwhelmed by it. “she’s having so much fun,” he said, almost to himself, voice softer than it had been all night, smiling. 

james turned to him immediately, eyebrows raised. “you’re looking at her like she’s personally responsible for all of our music right now.”

martin didn’t even look away from the crowd. “she started a pit.”

“yes.”

“at a cortis concert.”

“yes,” james repeated, laughing already.

martin pointed again, like he needed everyone else to confirm the same reality he was seeing. “look,” he said, breathless, “she’s doing it again.”

and you were. right there in the centre of everything, arms outstretched, opening the circle once more, while the people around you already started laughing in anticipation because they knew exactly what was about to happen, the timing almost ritualistic now, the crowd moving with the music like they were sharing one collective heartbeat.

the drop hit once more. 

and the entire floor section erupted inward again, a massive surge of bodies jumping and screaming and laughing all at once, pure adrenaline and pure joy colliding in the middle of the arena.

martin laughed so hard he nearly missed his next line, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, because all he could think, over and over, was that he had left you unsupervised for one concert and somehow you had started a movement.

and… well, the thing about mosh pits, or whatever this had become, was that they were contagious, not because people were reckless, but because joy always was, and right now there was far too much of it packed into one section of the floor for it to stay contained.

by the time youngcreatorcrew ended, the crowd was breathless, sweaty, laughing, half of them now acting like they had known each other for years despite meeting less than ten minutes ago, the energy still buzzing under their skin like it didn’t know how to stop.

you were finally leaning back against the barricade, trying to catch your breath, hair sticking to your face, voice gone almost completely, when the members regrouped at centre stage and all five of them turned their attention toward the floor section.

not just the floor section—specifically, the centre of it, where the chaos had been, where it still refused to fully die down.

the crowd was still chanting, still bouncing, still trying to restart the pit between songs like it was an ongoing agreement no one wanted to cancel, and right in the middle of it all, still smiling like you hadn’t just accidentally taken over half the arena’s emotional regulation for the night, was you.

completely unaware that five boys on stage were currently staring at you like you had just done something far more dangerous than anything that had actually happened.

seonghyeon was the first to break the moment of hesitation, eyes still on the crowd as if the answer was already obvious to him even before he said it. “should we?”

martin, being the ‘responsible’ leader he was, didn’t even hesitate. “no.”

there was a beat of silence that suggested this should have ended the conversation entirely, but it absolutely didn’t. “okay but—” seonghyeon started again, still watching the floor section like it was calling to him.

“no,” martin repeated immediately, sharper this time.

james leaned forward slightly, following the same line of sight, expression already shifting into something far too amused. “counterpoint,” he said, pointing straight at the chaos below, “yes.”

keonho had already started walking toward the edge of the stage before anyone else had properly registered what that meant. “guys,” he called, loudly as if volume alone would make it more reasonable.

a security guard noticed at the exact wrong time, which was to say, at the exact moment nothing could realistically be stopped anymore.

“please remain on stage,” the guard said, voice tight with the kind of panic that suggested they had already mentally resigned themselves to disaster.

the members looked at each other, then looked at the crowd, and then looked back at each other again. and there was a shared understanding that settled in almost instantly.

“oh,” james said slowly, already smiling, taking off one of the layers of his outfit, “we’re definitely doing it.”

the next song started before anyone could intervene properly. the opening synth of fashion rolling across the arena and instantly changing the entire atmosphere, the crowd reacting as one massive wave of sound and movement.

and then keonho jumped.

the security guard looked like he aged several years in real time. keonho landed cleanly in the standing section, and the reaction from the crowd was immediate and explosive, like the entire arena had just collectively decided this was the best possible outcome.

“keonho!” voices screamed everywhere at once.

the moment his feet hit the floor, james followed without hesitation, then seonghyeon, then juhoon, one after another dropping down into the crowd as if gravity had simply stopped applying to them.

lots of their staff members were waving from the side, managers were shouting, security was trying to reach them, but none of it mattered anymore, because the decision had already been made and the momentum was far stronger than any attempt to reverse it.

the arena turned into something that wasn’t quite controlled and wasn’t quite chaos either, but sat somewhere in between, the kind of energy that only exists when nobody is thinking about consequences and everyone is only thinking about the next beat.

suddenly, they weren’t above the crowd anymore. they were inside it—part of it.

keonho disappeared almost immediately into one side of the pit, throwing his arm around some fanboys like they were old friends, jumping with them, screaming lyrics into the air while shaking his hair out of his face like it was the most natural thing in the world.

james somehow ended up closer to the centre, doing some funnt improvised choreography every time the chorus hit, making the people around him collapse into laughter so hard they could barely stay upright.

juhoon got swallowed by another section entirely, only briefly visible every so often as he popped up above the crowd before vanishing again into the movement.

seonghyeon became a constant presence moving through different pockets of people, pointing at random fans, encouraging them to sing lines, starting small jumping circles inside the larger one like he was multiplying the chaos on purpose.

and then there was martin, who lasted approximately five seconds before he somehow ended up beside you.

not intentionally, at least that was what he would insist later, as if it mattered. but somehow, no matter where either of you moved, the space between you stayed consistent, as if the crowd itself had decided something about proximity that neither of you had agreed to.

you shifted left. he appeared there.

you moved toward the centre. he was suddenly beside you again.

you got pushed backward by the crowd and turned slightly to regain balance, and there he was again.

eventually you caught him staring properly. “what?”

he blinked, like he had been caught doing something scientifically impossible. “what?”

“you’re following me,” you accused, grinning. 

“i’m not.”

“you are.”

“i’m literally not,” he said immediately, far too quickly to be convincing.

a fan beside you laughed, loudly enough for both of you to hear. “you’re absolutely following her.”

(naega mani joahae?)

martin looked offended for half a second, like this was the most ridiculous accusation he had ever heard, before the chorus hit again and whatever defence he had been forming completely dissolved.

the pit erupted once more. no phones were up anymore. not a single one—not because anyone had been told to stop, and not because security had successfully enforced anything, but because somewhere along the way everyone had simply forgotten they existed.

nobody cared about recording, nobody cared about capturing proof, nobody cared about angles or uploads or perfect fancams, because for a brief stretch of time the only thing that mattered was being inside it.

(that’s greengreen?)

the crowd had become one single being, fans and members and staff somewhere in the distance probably regretting every career choice that had led them here, all of it colliding into sound and movement and light.

jumping together. screaming together. breathing together.

the bass shook through the floor like a physical force, the chorus echoed so loudly it felt like it was inside your ribs, sweat and laughter mixing together, voices cracking mid-lyric, people grabbing onto strangers just to stay upright while laughing too hard to stand properly.

and in the middle of all of it, nothing felt separate anymore.

the members were scattered through the crowd now, not in any structured or planned way, but in the kind of random distribution that made it feel like they had never belonged on a stage in the first place, as if they were always meant to be here, inside the noise, inside the movement, inside the same overwhelming mess as everyone else.

at one point, you actually took a second to look around properly, not just at what was immediately in front of you, but at everything happening at once, and it was almost impossible to process all of it together.

keonho was dancing with a group of fans like he had known them for years, completely unbothered by the fact that this was technically not normal behaviour for someone who was supposed to be performing.

james was treating the pit like his own stage, dancing through the space with confidence every time the chorus hit, making fans laugh at his aggressively funny moves, and then hype him up to do something cooler. 

juhoon had somehow acquired a pair of sunglasses from someone in the crowd and was wearing them like it was the most natural thing in the world, as if they had always belonged to him.

seonghyeon was leading an entire section in a fanchant, but really, it was just a bunch of teenagers screaming all the lyrics. 

and martin, of course, was beside you again, like it had become some unspoken rule of the night that no matter how the crowd shifted or how the space changed, he would eventually end up there.

for a second, it didn’t feel like a concert anymore—it felt like a celebration.

then the next chorus hit.

and for thirty completely ridiculous seconds, thousands of fans, five idols, and one very guilty girlfriend all moved together as one, jumping in sync with the music, singing every lyric at full volume, the entire arena shaking under the weight of it, staff visibly giving up on trying to control anything at all, and the members looking like they were having the time of their lives, fully unrestrained, fully in the moment.

martin, who was right beside you, kept looking at you like he couldn’t quite believe this was real, like this was somehow the best possible version of everything he had ever imagined a concert could be.

no barriers between anyone. no cameras. no recordings. no proof that it had ever happened outside of memory. just a moment that only existed for the people inside it.

the final chorus hit harder than any of the ones before it, louder, heavier, more chaotic in the best possible way, and the entire crowd reacted like it had been waiting for that exact release.

everyone screamed. everyone jumped. everyone sang till the last note ended. 

as the members finally began moving back toward the stage, martin looked out over the crowd again, then at the fans, then at the members, and finally at you.

he laughed then, properly, completely, the kind of laugh that didn’t feel controlled in any way, the kind that came from somewhere too full to hold it in.

when the outro ended and they were all back on stage, everyone was breathless, sweaty, still laughing as the adrenaline refused to leave their systems.

keonho grabbed the microphone, pointing a finger directly toward the crowd in barricade. “special shoutout to the fan who started that.”

the arena erupted immediately. you ducked down on instinct.

unfortunately for you, martin also had a microphone, and when he spoke, he was smiling in a way that made it immediately worse. “oh yeah,” he said, like it was obvious, like it had always been obvious, “i know her.”

(they gon’ mention me every time they gossip with they friends?)

the members collapsed into laughter on stage, the crowd lost its collective mind all over again, and in that moment it became very clear that whatever control you thought you had over the situation had completely disappeared because of martin.

because somehow, against all odds, his secret girlfriend had shown up to the first stop of their biggest tour, won barricade, started a mosh pit, convinced half the arena to join in, and accidentally created the most unforgettable concert cortis would probably ever have.

 ☆

years later, people would still swear it happened like it was carved into collective memory rather than documented reality.

they would call it the incheon pit.

the one night that somehow lived without proof, without clips, without a single shaky fancam to anchor it to something physical, as if the internet itself had blinked at the wrong moment and missed it entirely.

no recordings. no timestamps. no physical evidence.

just thousands of voices insisting, with absolute certainty, that the arena had turned into something alive that night, something that moved like a heartbeat and sounded like a storm, something too loud, too bright, too shared to ever be properly captured.

and every time the story resurfaced, it would feel slightly unreal again, like a memory that didn’t belong to just one person but to everyone who had been there at once, pressed together in sound and light and adrenaline, jumping as if the ground itself had decided to participate.

people would argue about it online, reconstructing fragments of it from nothing but feeling, trying and failing to prove what could only ever be experienced, never replayed.

and somewhere far beyond the noise of those discussions, the five boys would just smile, each time the memory came up, like they were remembering the same impossible night from five slightly different angles, none of them willing to say too much, all of them knowing that anything they added would only make it feel less real.

because some nights don’t survive as footage… some nights survive as legend—and the incheon pit was one of them.

© hyuneskkami ❦