PiningInProse
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“Gihun-ssi, this elevator won’t open. I think this mask doesn’t work here.”
“Well.” Gihun sighed; his voice was steadier than he thought it ever could. “That’s a shame. We must find another way.” Gihun stepped closer to inspect the reader. The distance between them shrank to a few centimetres. He leaned in and whispered into the man’s ear.
“Why don’t you use your mask to unlock it then, Frontman?”
Seong Gihun had learnt, through harsh lessons, that he could not beat the game with violence or mass persuasion. So, what else was he left with but something tender—and far more dangerous—turning towards one man?
Hwang Inho had set out to trample Seong Gihun’s naive faith in humanity. He was enjoying watching the man’s crumbling confidence like a fine glass of whiskey. That is, until those naive eyes looked at him one too many times and he realised the foundation of his own belief had been eroding.
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Note: Weekly update plan. -
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Inho was having a bad day. It also happened to be his birthday—not that he would celebrate anything ever again after what happened last year, but still. It was raining, and the traffic in Seoul was hellish. He took an unfamiliar route, and his car broke down in front of a run-down fried chicken shop.
The owner offered him a place to rest—and a plate of freshly fried chicken when he noticed it was Inho's birthday.
It was supposed to be a brief stop. He ended up staying longer.
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Pre-canon. -
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In the final game, Sangwoo crumbles under the loss of everything his existence depends on—only for Gihun to prove it could be offered freely.