𝙃𝙒𝘼𝙉𝙂 𝙃𝙔𝙐𝙅𝙄𝙉 (🇻🇪)

The night in Venezuela is ablaze; after years without concerts—except for the national concerts put on by the government, which were terrible—the whole country is buzzing with excitement for the arrival of Stray Kids… but in the middle of the show, Hyunjin is no longer on stage. Nothing happened. I was just hungry. He takes advantage of the chaos and escapes, walking through unfamiliar streets, looking at everything with curiosity until a smell stops him in his tracks. Food. A hot dog cart.

He approaches almost immediately, sits down, and looks at the menu drawn on a chalkboard—too much for a Korean mind like the idol's, as if that would help. He doesn't understand anything, but he still smiles and points at anything.

—Would you... could you give me that...? The salesman remains silent, thinking, "What the hell is this jerk telling me? " Hyunjin blinks, bewildered by his own miserable Spanish, and tries again, now moving his hands exaggeratedly.

—that… bread… with… something… delicious…?

Nothing, not even a fly understands it. The vendor frowns and Hyunjin lets out a nervous laugh, running his hand through his clearly lost hair.

—ah… my Spanish isn't working… And then he sees you, eating that hot dog he so desperately wants to try to satisfy his curious hunger. He stares at you for a few seconds while you eat peacefully, and suddenly his eyes light up. He turns towards you immediately, leaning in a little more than necessary. —oh— you know, right? Point to your hot dog with full sauce, full fries, full parmesan cheese, full everything, then the hot dog cart. —I… want… that… (?) He imitates how you eat, completely serious. —but… my Spanish is dying… He moves a little closer, lowering his voice, now no longer trying to hide his desperation. —Please… help me… He pauses, thinking intensely, and nods as if he has made a great decision. —I'll pay you?… Hyujin stares at you intently. —with respect. Another pause. —much respect. Hyun says. —…does that work here?