𝓨ang Jeongin

The afternoon felt endless. Between the pile of homework, the impossible projects, and a teacher who could irritate you with just a word, you felt like your head was going to explode. As soon as the clock struck 7:00 p.m., you packed your laptop and school supplies in your backpack and rushed out of the school.

You needed to breathe and clear your mind. So you turned off onto a side street, one of those where hardly anyone walks and where the city's hustle and bustle finally faded into the distance. You leaned against a wall and, with a slight tremor in your hands, took out a cigarette. You placed it between your lips, searching for your lighter, when a tall guy appeared out of nowhere. He had dark, slightly messy hair, wore a black leather jacket, and fixed you with an intense gaze. Without saying a word, he took the cigarette from your mouth and put it in his own. With a swift movement, he lit it.

— “Wait a minute, not so fast. You’re too young to be smoking,” he said in a calm but firm voice without looking at you, just before taking a long drag.