Pluck a flower before its prime and your hands bleed for the crime. The cut, albeit shallow, bleeds red like the rose petal pinched between fingers. The taste of iron and copper mingle on his tongue as he tries to stop the flow. It does and it doesn't. The physical bleeding has stopped but the mind runs wild as eyes trace the veins of the delicate petal.

Flowers are offered to deities, our idols, as a common practice. Visual aesthetics for the span of a few minutes before they fade into oblivion. With the first signs of wilt they are discarded because rotting should be out of sight, out of mind. The yellowing at the edges and the once fragrant aroma becoming pungent with time. Everything waxes and then wanes. It's the cycle of life. Taehyun can't help but wonder how it reflects the trajectory of his own life.

Wrapping crinkle under his fingers as he tucks the blossoms away into a bouquet. Probably for a date or a love interest. Such beautiful things to look at and receive but what else?

The shift ends soon enough and he begins to lock up the place. A routine made out of habit that he could perhaps do in his sleep.

There's a sense of sanctity in the bustling streets, everyone to themselves, providing time to contemplate. In a world dominated by society - whether in person or virtual - sequestering time just for yourself is a rare gem.

It's a good thing he decided to bring his guitar to work today. The strings are worn like the guitar itself, fingers yet calloused from the lack of practice and his beginner's touch. But he tries anyways. Simple chords to simple songs that he sings his soul out for.

//sets up a hastily prepared cardboard and plops down at one of the most convenient street-art performance areas, a winter jacket and a folded hoodie to keep his butt warm (what a great idea this was, it's so cold outside… !)

                                                  but taehyung is broke,

and make up and hair dye is expensive, and so is the fried chicken at KFC.

so, he tunes in his guitar and looks around, clears his throat before strumming a simple melody ; maybe he should've just asked for money, but he's so hungry he could devour the sign he prepared for this random occasion ;  

          With sleeping sun came shadow, with solitude came silence. Night settled across her form, the tips of its sprawled wings reaching to the pale moon. Its silhouette slipped through the spaces between the trees, darting in and out across her cheeks as it shivered, mirroring the licks of flame held in the stone chasm of her heart. With statued stature her back leaned against the building, she could have been missed for a shadow had it not been for the cigarette held between her fingers. The end of the length was still hot, the glowing center a lone firefly in the darkness.

          Her anxiety left her in spews of smoke that escaped small ‘o’ formed by her parched lips. Once, twice, thrice -- jaded orbs followed the paths as they branched out like strings of thought; thin arms reaching out slowly to the light overhead. out of sight, out of mind in her cut off corner, The urge still unsettled the woman. Smoking was a habit of her father’s, not her’s. Yet somehow Yerim had found herself exiting out of a store with a pack of Marlboro and few hours later, about a quarter of the box had been emptied. She looked down at the cigarette. It suddenly began to look even more misplaced in her hand. A flick of the wrist, and the embers were stepped out. Yerim felt her lungs constrict, the ashes settling inside.

         Haste had made waste and had left her with a bitter aftertaste to clean up from her tongue.

        ( Ugh. )

          The rustling of leaves shook her back to her senses. Her chest tightened at the sound, her spine straightened itself along the wall. Hardened eyes darted this way and that, searching. 

        ( Breathe. )

The specials for the day was out, his chefs busy preparing for the imminent crowd to arrive. He had a no reservations policy for his bistro. At the same time, without sufficient space within, the waiting time for food could stretch for hours.

Thankfully, with an electronic queue system setup, patrons only need to register their mobile numbers and a text would be sent to them, once a table was available. It allows his waiting patrons to explore Hongdae while waiting. Something he personally was happy about, having had enjoyed the district's sights and sounds from his days studying here.

Cracking his neck after a long exhale, he turned and blinked when he noticed a presence behind him looking into the bistro.

"Hello there." He greeted the stranger, a wide smile appearing on his lips. "Lunch isn't for another half hour, would you like to register yourself? You are here for food... Right?" He chuckled after.

After such a long and tiring day of her first day as a server in Thanks Nature cafe, Youngji finally able to go to her new place in The Blue Mansion. Well, it's kind of far from her place to her workplace, but she won't complain about that. The fact that she at least has an income and can afford to live in that place already makes her feel grateful. The cafe is not too busy today in her first day, which is good for her, somehow.

Youngji studied the place she started to settled from now on and checked on her watch.

           "30 minutes to eleven...," she thought.

She looks around and found that music still on and there are a lot of teenager going around here and there. It's completely different from the place she used to live in other part of Seoul before. She is rather feel happy and worried about that. This place is so lively yet she feels such a strong vibe of freedom, what makes her worried is that she afraid that she might want to go around and hangout rather than study or doing her project.