#munhwaso

munhwaso

"Dylan." He recognized the voice that had spoken his name--it brought him comfort, a sense of home. It made him miss his father. "Dylan, it's me." He looked up--he was sorting medical supplies in one of the examination rooms, preparing for a patient to come in for a post-operative check up due to her heart surgery three weeks ago. "How did you get in here?" Dylan murmured softly, more to himself than to the older, haggard man that stood in the door way. The man was one of Dylan's father's oldest friends--his best friend, if yakuza members were allowed to have one--and he was one of the only members who was willing to keep Dylan's location a secret.

"One of your nurses told me you'd be in here...but I can't stay for long. I told the others that I was here for a quick appointment. I needed to tell you something." Dylan set down the tray of supplies onto the counter, turning to look at the man. A second father to him, the second most prominent male in his life--if being in the yakuza had taught him anything, it was respect. "Dylan, there's another yakuza residing in Korea. I don't know who they are, where they are from, and what they're doing but... be careful. Here's where one of their lord's daughter works. Don't get into any trouble, okay?" The man stepped forward, embracing Dylan affectionately--the only time Dylan was willing to accept any sort of display of affection--before handing him a note with an address scribbled across it. Without another word, the man pressed a kiss to Dylan's forehead goodbye and disappeared within seconds.

17. My muse is dying in your muse’s arms.

He'd send his ghost to haunt whoever found out about the presence of two hearts in his chest cavity, to kill whoever sought to kill him out of the sheer need of revenge. His silver tinged blood stained the innocent fingers of the girl fighting to keep him alive, slipped through the thin digits onto the heated concrete. 

     Lying in bed at night was when Luhan really thought; not the routine thought about being bored of doing the same things everyday, but he thought about where he'd be if he weren't where he was right now. When he was back home in China, he spent a lot of time on his computer, watching YouTube videos, learning dances, or singing with his headphones on. Albeit he loved his life now, there was one thing that always made him miss being home (although, he considered Seoul his home, now): his pen pal from Korea. Those were the days, he thought, when things were simple. He had no time to send her any e-mails now, and that really got him down, when he thought about it--if he thought about it at all.

Recently, he'd become bored with his schedule and routine, that it was obvious he was slacking off during practices with the rest of EXO; it was apparent that his mind was elsewhere. His mindset had practically taken a 180°. Now, he'd be late to practice, and be the first to leave, and his work effort lessened exponentially. If he was already being this lazy, he thought, he might as well check what's going on on his e-mail. There was no harm in that, right? It was better than doing something that could cause problems for the work relationship between himself and the managers at SM, so he couldn't get in trouble. Even though the company micromanaged their social media accounts, his e-mail was something he still considered personal.

Rolling out of bed, his leg hit one of his unpacked boxes, and he quickly planted both feet on the floor, pulling his blanket up over his shoulders and wrapping it around himself, and shuffled over to his desk, sitting in the chair and opening his laptop to check his e-mail, only to find a draft that was unfinished to his long-time Korean pen pal:

"Guess what? I'm becoming a trainee at SM Entertainment in South Korea!! Maybe we"

The message ended there. After a few minutes of thought, he pressed the "compose new message" button, and he allowed his hands and his mind to just go crazy to send a message. Hopefully, she'd be able to read it, and still used her e-mail.

"Come to the Pollalla Museum tomorrow at 17:00."

Mechanic Hwasa ʜᴀs ᴍᴏᴠᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇx!

renting flat #345, a studio apartment.