#dam8te

“ that's what i'm wondering ... fuck. fuck - fuck - fuck. ” lucy doesn't ever swear. not really. kind of. at least not in this capacity. here, she's able to keep it under her breath, the strung - out words nearly inaudible. this mask she wears never slips, even when she feels like panicking and eating her own heart out just to stop its trepidation. the misconception here is that stalkers, or sasaengs, are more dangerous when in foreign territory, and while that may be true, it was worse when they followed from their main country. it always weirded lucy out enough to see repeated faces across every tour stop, and worse when they somehow landed on the same flights as the group ... but managing to stay in the exact same hotel where they were supposed to be taking time off ? wherever sasaengs went, paparazzi followed, and thus came the unwelcome sprouts of scandal. she's frozen in place in the small hotel boutique, slender digits absentmindedly tracing the fabric of some sweater. “ i can see them taking pictures. there's definitely two of them. we can't even pretend we're not who we are because they caught us without our mask and glasses on. ”