Park Chanyeol, renowned killer.

Byun Baekhyun, bereft orphan.

An uncertain ending, a web wound of lies.

Perhaps they never will.

" I've lost my true self. I've been someone else for too long that I've lost myself, somewhere . "

" I'll find you. You haven't disappeared yet. There must be the real you, somewhere else. "

" What if the real me is gone, hidden absymally in an enigimatic abyss? "

" Even so, I'll find you. I'll find you and dig you out from there. You don't deserve to be hidden away from nowhere, to overshadow your face from the rest of the world. "

" Is that a promise? "

" ... Yes. "

"There is a devil inside of everyone."

Sheens of greyish monochromatic rain skittered, frolicked across the glass windows of Chanyeol’s newest Ferrari as he sped, over 250kph, across rough bumpy gravelled roads lined with little pieces of debris and loose stones that would fly up and hit the car windscreen every now and then. Chanyeol drives, feet pressing down hard on the accelerator, hands fidding with the clutch. He drives with an intensive amount of focus, his hands covered with gloves clutching the steering wheel, well-kept nails digging into the brown leather of the gloves, with his back tightly pressed against the seat of the car, bent back at an angle.

Perhaps they never will.