Everything has a beginning, does it?

JongIn is in front of a theater spectacle, he seems to not be amused. They are all mad here, their eyebrows are furrowed, their fits are red and faded white, riches purses and for the cherry on the top, no emotions. He smiles a little, he thinks at it twice. His orbs glances around him without making a sound but he grins upon his hamming arrogance. It finished and closed, he stands up the first and makes his way towards the exit door. Kim JongIn loves more Hongdae's streets, the filthy ground ; where he can dance until the undercover. When passant stops by and watches him dance. He called it life, they called it dance. Everything had a cost, doesn't it ? It was at night, 9PM actually, that KyungSoo ; a rich pulse ; had stopped by. Watching JongIn move by all it cost, it was called being out of the races. He put his hands onto the pockets of his suit. He looks absorbed but not impressed by the attractiveness of JongIn. At the end of the performance Jongin bent down, looking at the tips left over. He saw numbers, he takes it and gives it a essay.

• At 11PM meet me at the Sun's cafe. Don't be too late.

  It reads, he obviously glances around him, he makes sure that there's no one here. He sighs.

He found himself making his way until the 7^th avenue of the empty streets.