talk shit, get hit.
( @cctaehyung )
it’s still sickening –– everything. sometimes jongin thinks it’s better not to remember, at least that way he doesn’t have to live with this constant guilt digging at his chest. it’s even worse when he’s here and he’s reminded of the fact that these people (at least, some of them) know him as a killer in a different life.
he sits by the coach, and his mind is a mess. he closes his eyes, coffee in his hand in an attempt to calm down but all he ever sees whenever his eyes are shut is red. blood, the look of despair –– betrayal.
“shit,” he mumbles under his breath, quickly sipping on his drink. he needs more rest. in actuality, he knows that he needs to get away from this place, it brings back too much. yet for some reason he just can’t. there’s this odd feel of unfinished business that still settles on his chest.
leaning against the couch he peels his eyes away from the cup of coffee at hand only to see a familiar red head approaching him. it doesn’t take long for his mood to go from tired to annoyed.
