#mxsungjong

[ @mxsungjong + @mcxsuzy + @mxwoohyun ]

Although it was definitely a relief to finally have escaped that forest of nightmares, Dongwoo wasn’t all that comfortable with what he was faced with next either. Of course, that could have been the result of them forcing him away from Suzy and making him clean himself up. He did enjoy the opportunity of showering and getting into less filthy clothes, but he still felt strange. They were in some unknown place, and now he couldn’t have his eyes on her anymore. Being that he felt protective of the girl at this point, it was unsettling for him.

✏ What are their creative outlets?

There is something raw about this sound. Not the steady club music rounding his skull and ending when he shoves towards an exit. Sharply inhaling air empty of too many drunken details whispered in his ear, scent of sweat up his nose, and close contact on skin. And he keeps walking to ignore the friendly offers for a drink. Mind heavy with deadlines and much more than he would confess here. What stops him this time is far from silence. But dull scraping--TEARING--motions working through solid material.

Daisuke steps forward to see the fork of an alleyway. Eyes already narrowed, and raised hand a curtain to block out a hazy streetlight barely stretching across an arched spine.The drum of his heart sticks in a dry throat, and he can see now the hunched form of not an animal. But a person over another person.

Asking if they need help is drowned out by the same noise. Hands reaching not for, but deep inside to wrench up again. Teeth clamp into the flesh of his tongue, blood filling his mouth and he nearly heaves there as their hands pry open remains. Same blood dripping down their chin joining the shadows of the early AM. The puddle beneath their feet not rain at all. It has not rained in days and runoff is never this dark.

Daisuke retreats backwards, one step—two steps--teeth digging further into a new wound to bite down on the yell that would give him away as an onlooker. Nearly gagging at the iron taste as their face replays behind shut eyelids. Hands buried in a lifeless cavity and bloody teeth glaring under a weak flickering light. He covers his mouth, shaking on the inhale—

But he never switches the his phone off when venturing out to clubs. Favorite piano piece rising in volume as he curses himself to hell for it now.

@mxsungjong

In Sungyeol’s line of work, he usually found himself taking photos at local events or wherever a good news headline could be found, though occasionally, he found himself picking up some extra work on the side. His job at the news press hardly paid as much as he needed, so doing jobs for the citizens of Busan helped tremendously, though still he hardly made enough. But it added up in the end.

Today, his current freelance job happened to be taking photographs for a married couple at a local restaurant. They were friendly enough, and very polite. They were especially kind towards Sungyeol, whether it be offering him extra pay for excellent work, or simply offering to buy him a meal at this very restaurant as a tip. Sungyeol had accepted their offer, of course, and they expected to pay for his meal as soon as was done photographing with their own.

The session was stopped for a brief moment as the husband had to excuse himself to the restroom, and the wife told Sungyeol that he may take a break until her husband returned. Unsure of what to do, the young boy simply walked around the establishment in an attempt to look casual.

After a moment of wandering the place, Sungyeol spotted a nearby waiter. Not seeing the harm in it, he pulled his camera out once more, and snapped a photo. Once he had, he lowered his camera, yet continued to smile at the stranger.

Was it an invasion of privacy?

mxsungjong

Death. It was the inevitable fate that all humans had to face; some earlier than others. Woohyun had vowed, after his parents’ death, to protect those closest to him no matter what it took. Yet he failed, once again, to protect the only relative he held dearest to him - the only relative he had left.

With a bouquet of alstroemerias in hand, he steadily made his way down the dusty old path - the one he’s grown to memorized so well - before finally reaching his destination.