( @95jdn )
perhaps it was the weather, the cold that kept tickling at his throat to stay warm somehow. or it was the type of day he had. he felt... annoyed? like he was ready to rip someone’s throat out of their body if they looked at him the wrong way. but yoongi found his solace in a lit cigarette, hanging from his pale fingers. the puffs of smoke heaving out of his nostrils, filling the chilly seoul breeze with some heart. he looked like any other delinquent who roams the city at this time. absentminded, ignorant, revolting.
though he found himself in seoul, his actual soul was vagabond, taking him to wherever the road ends. he didn’t feel the need to settle down in one specific place, nor find comfort in one specific person. his only comfort was himself.
with another puff, and another gateway to death, he heads north. not caring where he goes anymore. the bud hung from his chapped lips, fumes seeping through his surprisingly white teeth. but, there was someone staring. almost trying to decode him. so he obliged.
“do you want one or are you just going to keep looking at me like you know me?”
