On the desk lays a surprisingly small folder, attached to the front is a picture of a grim-looking young woman holding up a card with her inmate number. Her fingers and parts of her cheek are coloured in red, maybe blood, maybe ink, who knows. The investigator flicks the file open, once he’s seated. He’s surprised by the amount of censored information and the notes the previous, now dead, investigator left. Surprised, since the suspect was a high-ranking officer and t

Hoseok often claimed he didn’t know how it started, letting anyone who knew about it assume he was simply a sugar addict. Maybe he was addicted, just as addicted as the ill-tempered boy smoking his lungs black outside their motel room—Hoseok would never admit that, though. He wasn’t destructive like Yoongi, fire and smoke loving Yoongi. He just likes his chocolate, that’s all.