catch you
@jihoonmi
bomin knows what he is. he knows that he isn’t your average college kid, that he’s involved in darker things, dangerous things. his mind is his asset, his weapon. yet there were still many things that bomin could never understand about his own self.
he sits on the couch of the apartment, staring at the screen of his laptop, his mind at unease. bomin knew he was a criminal, if you were involved a gang, didn’t that make you one? his eyes fall onto his hands, scratches on them when he’d attempted to get more involved on the field. he’s no stranger to bloodshed and just what consequences his actions have.
though lately, after having spent more time with people from his college, with people that weren’t involved in the scene that he was, he craved that normality. yet he knew that someone like him could never be normal, he hadn’t been given the gift of simplicity.
he takes a look around the apartment, and everything there only reminded him more of the fact that he wasn’t normal. that crime lingered at every corner. but there were just simply days when he’d want to forget. he wondered if that was possible. “shit,” he sighs, clearly unhappy.
frustrated, he balls his fist up and slams them hard against the table. “shit,” he repeats, biting hard on his bottom lip. his hands begin to bleed, the wounds opening up once more from the intensity of his fingers against his palm. bomin sits there, staring at the blood on his hands before he stands up to head towards the first aid kit.
“oh jihoon,” he says, “sorry, i need to get something,” he doesn’t allow the frustration to seep through his lips, again he does what he’s best at and masks his emotions. he’d always been one who preferred to remain calm, uncomfortable with whatever he felt himself.
