prologue;

They're brought together by pressed blazers and shiny Italian oxfords, dripping in old money and oil spills. Rich kids with a disdain for dirty money and greedy capitalism, although never above reaping its benefits for themselves. They're all beautiful in their kingdom of false grandeur, ruled by social classes and sadness. Socialites united by fate or destiny - never sure which.

The first is Oh Sehun with star kissed lungs and mean grins - slash on a chiseled face, Michelangelo's David ruined. 

The second is a fountain of blood in the shape of Choi Jinri, venom for lips under the false pretense of saccharine sweetness and cherries.

And the last of them is Kim Jongin - rich, beautiful, privileged, and quite possibly the worst of the three. Kim Jongin, with the school emblem on his blazer and matching colors on his tie. A boy made up of poison and insomnia beneath olive skin and boyish grins against authority. He's a golden boy who’s plenty rich and plenty popular but keeps to his favorite flavors of tabacco clouds and tied cherry stems.

And what, is more awful than a golden boy who keeps venom by his side?