Just something I whipped up a while ago. I have other snippets, but I can't quite figure out how to put them together, or even what the main conflict is T.T
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It starts with a murder. When they find the body it is gruesome. Some of them have clocked over 10 years in the business and this is the worst that they’ve ever seen. The woman is cut open and splayed out, body parts removed and sewn back on all the wrong places. Even before setting eyes on her, Jongin can smell it, that unmistakable metallic tang of so much blood. When he does see the body, he gags. And he knows.
After work he makes a call to Kyungsoo. When Kyungsoo picks up his voice is tight, and Jongin has to berate himself, because of course Kyungsoo has already heard. He decides not to beat around the bush.
“So you think this is what I think it is?”
Kyungsoo sighs, and Jongin can imagine him chewing at his lip worriedly. “This is not good, Jongin. We expected this of course, but this violent display…They’re more unhappy than we thought.”
Jongin stares out the phone booth, at the cars that race by on the streets, throwing up waves of water onto sidewalks that glimmer orange under the streetlights. Seoul is bustling as usual, and so, so oblivious.
no subject
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It starts with a murder. When they find the body it is gruesome. Some of them have clocked over 10 years in the business and this is the worst that they’ve ever seen. The woman is cut open and splayed out, body parts removed and sewn back on all the wrong places. Even before setting eyes on her, Jongin can smell it, that unmistakable metallic tang of so much blood. When he does see the body, he gags. And he knows.
After work he makes a call to Kyungsoo. When Kyungsoo picks up his voice is tight, and Jongin has to berate himself, because of course Kyungsoo has already heard. He decides not to beat around the bush.
“So you think this is what I think it is?”
Kyungsoo sighs, and Jongin can imagine him chewing at his lip worriedly. “This is not good, Jongin. We expected this of course, but this violent display…They’re more unhappy than we thought.”
Jongin stares out the phone booth, at the cars that race by on the streets, throwing up waves of water onto sidewalks that glimmer orange under the streetlights. Seoul is bustling as usual, and so, so oblivious.
“Jongin, you still there? What should we do?”